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rafaelaaron · 3 months

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𝗣𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘂𝗽 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗲 | 𝗔𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗛𝗼𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗻𝗲𝗿

Summary: You comfort Aaron after a tough case

cw: fbi!reader, typical criminal minds violence, mentions of Haley, drinking

Word count: 1.25k

A/N: English is not my first language, sorry for any grammatical mistakes

It's gonna be okay

Everyone needs a bad day

Remember you told me

You're not alone, just pick up the phone

And call me whenever you're feeling lonely

Remember you told me

You're not alone, just pick up the phone

- pick up the phone by Henry Moodie

The Counter-terrorism Unit shared the same floor with the BAU, making it easier to keep in touch and check each other's departure and return.

Not that it mattered much.

Except Agent Hotchner and Agent Y/L/N.

The two units were not exactly close nor held a joint investigation frequently. Still, Hotch and you shared a fair amount of time since the first joint investigation which was against numerous bombs installed near tourist attractions in DC.

You had occasional coffee breaks in the hallway sometimes and worked late in Hotch's office together to avoid working alone, both being the infamous workaholics in each other's unit.

“Hey.”

You saw the BAU agents getting out of the elevator, all of them exhausted. Hotch gave you a short nod before disappearing into the bullpen, which was odd for him because he always talked to you, even briefly. Although you were not a profiler, you could read his stress signs only because you spent enough time with him to know that.

“Bad case?”

“Yes, especially to Hotch. We saved a boy, but not his mother. Guess it reminded him of Foyet.”

“That’s awful.”

“Someone needs to talk to him.”

JJ shrugged and waved her hand, walking away. You stood there, biting your lips in concern. Hotch’s look made you worry about him all day at your desk while doing paperwork.

Your mind went back to a certain night several months ago, when he held you in his arms as you cried after failing to save a life in your first joint investigation. He had knocked on your door, asking if you were okay before you collapsed in his arms.

"I feel awful, Hotch."

"Please, don't blame yourself. You did everything you could."

His thumb had gently wiped tears away from your cheeks, smiling softly.

"When you feel bad, just call me. I will come right to you, or at least listen to you when I'm far away."

You had nodded and followed his words, calling whenever you needed his soothing voice and words.

You knew that he would need you too. However, you could tell that he would never call you or come to you, being stubborn. So as soon as you handed the files to your unit chief, you went to the BAU.

“Agent Rossi,”

“Agent Y/L/N. As I know, Aaron went home about 30 minutes ago.”

Rossi said with a wink.

“No wonder you're a profiler.”

You rolled your eyes playfully with a smile and went straight to Hotch's place. You called him first but he didn't answer, worrying you even more.

“Pick up the phone, please.”

You whispered almost desperately, dialing once more. He still didn't answer as you parked your car in front of his apartment.

“Hotchner, open the door before I kick it op—”

Your continuous knock was interrupted by him opening the door.

“Y/N,”

“Aaron,”

“What are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped seeing him. His hair was messy as if he ran his hand multiple times through it. His tie was loosened and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. His shoulder was tense and his eyes were slightly red. You could conclude that he had been drinking scotch, but you have never seen him like this.

“Well, uh, JJ told me it was a bad case and since you are too stubborn to call me, I thought it would be better to visit you myself and I don't know, probably just listen to whatever you say?”

You rambled, suddenly not sure if you could help him feel better. Hotch just stared at you for a while before dragging you into his house by your hand. You sat down next to him on the couch, his hand never letting yours go.

“I wanted to answer your call,”

He began after a moment of silence.

“But I didn't want to be a burden to you.”

“You know you never are.”

He dropped your hand, his shoulder slumped. You opened your arm and he hesitantly moved toward you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“The unsub kills the mother and a child in the house, waits for the father to come home, and forces him to kill himself. We could save the child, but not his mother, and his father came home to witness the unsub being arrested. I— I saw him being devastated, and—”

“That reminded you of yourself. And Haley.”

You finished for him, and he nodded, burying his face deeper and letting stray tears seep into your shirt collar. You gently rubbed his back, waiting for him to calm down.

“I’ve got you, Aaron. It’s alright.”

He pulled away eventually, flashing his rare smile bashfully.

“Sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be, Aaron. You always try to comfort me, and I am just returning the favor.”

“Thanks. I feel much better now.”

You suddenly had no idea what to do now. You were still worried about him, but you didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable by staying there longer. So you glanced at your wristwatch, realizing it was already past 10.

“It’s late. I gotta go, I guess.”

You rose to your feet and took a few steps toward the front door when he grabbed one of your wrists and pulled you down. His strength had you practically sitting on his lap. Hotch's eyes drifted down briefly to your lips but went back up right after.

“...Aaron?”

“As you said, it's late, and you should stay the night.”

“Aaron, it's fine—”

“It's the least I can do.”

His intense gaze and firm grip around your wrist left no room to argue. You sighed and accepted his suggestion.

“Then I'll use the guest bedroom.”

“No, honey, sleep next to me.”

You blinked your eyes slowly, your brain trying to process that he had just called you 'honey' for the first time, and wanted you to sleep next to him.

“I won't do anything, I promise. I just— I don't think I can sleep alone.”

“Sure.”

You nodded and he led you to the bedroom, handing some of his clothes to you.

You lay on the bed facing him. He was giving you a look you couldn't quite decipher.

“What?”

“Nothing,”

Hotch smiled ever so slightly and you would've missed it had you not known him so well.

“Just, thank you for stopping by.”

“You're welcome, Aaron.”

You returned his smile, but only bigger.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Aaron.”

He watched you sleeping for a while before falling asleep himself, adoring the way you are looking so peaceful.

“Morning,”

Hotch was leaning against the doorframe, each hand holding steamy mugs. His shirt hugged him perfectly, his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Morning,”

You replied sleepily, and asked,

“Feel better?”

“Yeah, thanks to you.”

He smiled, genuinely this time. You realized how much you loved to hear his morning voice and see his smile.

“Come on, I made some breakfast.”

“Never knew you could make pancakes.”

“I try.”

"These are amazing, Aaron."

When you finished the pancakes, his 'that' look showed up once again.

“What?”

“Nothing. You need to get changed, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I'll drive you home.”

“I drove here yesterday.”

“You can pick up your car later. It's the least I can do."

You shrugged, secretly liking the idea of Hotch driving you home.

When you arrived at the 6th floor of Quantico with him, he whispered,

“Have a nice day, Y/N.”

“You too, Aaron.”

Hotch watched you walk away towards the other side of the hallway for a long time.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #thomas gibson

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anna-dreamer · 2 years

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Баллада Финрода к Амариэ is a hot mess

Soooo i did it. I summed up some of my thoughts and criticism of Баллада Финрода к Амариэ which i will just call Amarie for short. I wanna say in advance that this is not meant to be taken too seriously. I love Finrod and i had a great deal of fun dissecting this song. I don’t know much about how Finrod-Zong was created, and i don’t know too much about Lora Bocharova’s artistic style nor about how much different authors contributed to the rock opera. So i will just be talking about an abstract author when i need to.

Good things about Amarie

There are very good tropes, mostly refrains and anaphoras. На Западе...; Не в том беда, ...а в том беда; Одной душе служить, любви одной; Между нами...; Ты отные - ...; etc.

As I said before - there is one extended metaphor i really like, Ты стала путеводною звездой - Веди меня теперь сквозь бездорожье.

There is also a cool gradation hidden in the refrain: Не в том беда, что я теперь один - ты сказала “нет” - мне нельзя назад. And it is concluded in Привал with Мы несчастны здесь.

What plagues Amarie is clichés.

A lot of vocabulary and phrases in Amarie and in Finrod in general ring stylistically amateurish. Some of them just aged poorly as the text was written at a relatively early stage of the internet when meme culture was not at all that big. And some are straightforward tired clichés that appear everywhere and need to be avoided. That same между нами... sadly falls in this category as there are numerous Russian pop songs that are built around this We are sooo separated so much stuff is between us notion. More examples are, Застыло сердце во льду and Возможно, между нами нет преград (this is just hilarious). And of course there is, unfortunately, one of thematical formulas of the show, Ах, если бы любовь не знала правил.

Other big things are syntactic awkwardness that plagues Finrod in general and sloppy usage of grammatical government.

Of course, Amarie is nothing like Истина where native speakers have a hard time getting through lyrics, but it also has a fair share of confusing statements. For instance, what exactly does Hет любви, что можно предать mean? If we drop awkward syntaх here and take it at face value. It’s understandable that the author was trying to construct an anaphoretic gradation with Нет дороги, кроме прямой. But the second part of it kinda landed flat on its face. The thought behind it supposed to be something like, You can’t just betray a love, you must fix your mistake. You should have never betrayed it, actually. But it also very mush reads as A love that can’t be betrayed does not exist, there is no such thing, so it’s impossible to betray it. Previous statement that reads as No way there is for me except the straight one contributes to this reading. Now, it is probably not the point Finrod is making here, but it is equally possible.

There are also smaller things, like граница льдин. Граница is a line between two things that sets them apart. In this phrase construction the relationship between граница and льдин reads as possessive one. As if Finrod means that Amarie lives somewhere within this ice and that line where this ice ends is actually what sets them apart. But it’s not what he means. I believe this граница льдин is meant to be read as phrase with definition, that this line is icy, it is made of ice, the line is ice. But this is not a correct way to convey such a meaning in Russian. It should be граница из льдин or льдистая граница. Also the very words in this phrase are off. Both граница and льдины are cases of poor usage of partial synonyms. It should be преграда as in a thing that impedes you from going somewhere (not a thing that marks a stop of an area, as in French border, border of France); and лёд or льды as a vast frozen wasteland (not льдины as in separate floating pieces of ice). What author means is there is ice between Amarie and Finrod, there is a ледяная прегада or преграда изо льда between them. Alas, rhyme and rhythm do not allow such a phrase to happen, and we already have one case of преграды in the song, tautology would also be no good.

There is one last thing, and it is a little hard to explain, and it also might be just a matter of personal taste. It is hitting the meaning.

Amarie is a complicated piece. It is meant to be a turning point for Finrod, a moment of doubt, and the result is he abandons his old way and submits to his destiny. It is also a reflective piece, an aria, where he tells the audience of his feelings and lives through them. Thus i believe there should be a delicate balance between things that Finrod already knows (he left Amarie, it’s been a long time, there is no point in lying to himself, he did it to himself, he suffers because their song was broken off but that's not all) and things he comes to understand as the scene unfolds (she was right, he must have followed his heart then, now it is time to do it again, he should not have abandoned her, now her truth must lead him through his hard choices towards the right thing).

The problem is that Finrod’s feelings which he should already know are also sometimes portrayed as pondering, as a thought process. There is А лгать себе, похоже, слишком поздно and Похоже, это я тебя оставил. And the big one, the refrain, Не в том беда, что ..., а в том беда, что песня не допета. This whole thing, and last case especially, gives me an impression that author did not know how Finrod should have felt at that moment and was figuring it out on the go. I’ve seen that a lot in teenage fanfiction. It is like the author is trying to develop their emotional intelligence but is not giving it enough time. Such figuring out on the fly sometimes is also meant to be read as cool and broody. Now, I really do not think this is what is happening here. But considering Finrod’s existence in a fan culture where such writing does appear a lot it surely gives the wrong impression. Now, i suspect the real purpose of this refrain is a false opposition turned trope. It probably should read as, the problem is not in all these small grievances but in this big and real sorrow of unfinished song. But alas, in this surrounding of constant questioning i cannot help but read it straightforwardly. And thus it appears a stylistic error, not a deliberate trop. It does read as two things opposing each other yet being both right. And at worst, it reads as insincerity on author’s part. We all now that я теперь один is a problem too, and so is ты сказала “нет”, and мне нельзя назад too (as is мы несчастны здесь from later). We do not need to deny it for purposes of questionable esthetic.

#Finrod the Rock Opera #finrod rock opera #Finrod the opera #Finrod #Amarie #Don't mind me #I'm at it again #I'm not really sure why i write it in english #I guess it's just fun to do #anna dissects rock operas

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vqnillaclouds · 3 months

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Newer homes are so boringgg like where’s my window seat??? Why’s my room a square?? Why are there no built in bookshelves?? What are you telling me my home doesn’t consist of numerous conversation pits that all sink a few steps below the other for each portion of the home like the kitchen, then the living area, then the bedrooms?? Where’s my magical enchanted courtyard for secret meetups with my besties??? Where’s my marble statues??? Spiral staircases???? Old 1920s elevators with the gold doors that close like a Nintendo Ultra Hand??? Large extensive libraries with the black and white checkered marble flooring that I would probably only use for playing the ACNH morning stretches mini game when I need a large open area for motion controls??? Where’s my old fantasy well that’s really just an elevator to the underworld??? Where’s my giant clock tower with a giant It’s a Small World type cuckoo bird mechanism with cute doll like animatronics??? Where’s my balconies I can overlook the meadows from and sing about what I want in life??? Where’s my rococo era paintings that fill my walls like a giant art gallery??? Where’s my secret door from the library made out of a bookshelf that leads to an underground hangout area with pillows and cushions and blankets and oversized teddy bears for puppet shows, sleepovers, movie nights, and video games??? Where’s my magical fitting forum chamber with high ceilings adorned with shelves of fabrics and sewing materials that the fairies use to help me and my friends get ready for the ball???? Where’s my gigantic ballroom with a skylight dome ceiling and crystal chandeliers??? Why. Why. Why. WHYYY DO I NOT LIVE A FANTASY MAGICAL PRINCE LIFE WITH PINK COATS AND CROWNS AND BALLROOMS AND OUTDOOR GARDENS AND FAIRIES AND HAPPINESS AND BEST FRIENDS AND LOVE AND ADVENTURE AND FUN??? …

Adults say to “enjoy your childhood while it lasts,” but that only stresses me out. I don’t have friends, I don’t have extracurricular activities, I struggle to get my work and assignments completed even though I can prove from tests and benchmarks that I know the material, I don’t leave the house, I don’t have a chance to leave the house, I feel trapped and sad and stressed and my heart rate rises knowing that I’m just not enjoying my childhood.

I keep imagining other lives like the one I described previously and how much more I would enjoy it. I can’t tell if these thoughts make me feel better or worse.

If I were to look at what I really want from all these fantasies is a group of friends I can easily spend time with in person, who are not emotionally draining to engage with, who I don’t have to “logic” my way through a conversation with like I’m solving a math problem for how to get them to like me, who do not have issues in our relationship yet refuse to cooperate and solve it, and make me feel included.

I am so sorry for the likely large amount of grammatical errors, (mainly the lack of commas and abundance of spelling mistakes,) as this is less a “public declaration that I have issues” and more a long tangent that I quickly put together, despite my original intention for this post being a list of complaints I have with unoriginal, interior floor plans in modern homes. That’s just how writing flows and changes, I suppose!

Thank you for reading this seemingly incoherent mess of thoughts and ideas! I hope you find meaning in this as much as it meant for me to express my thoughts, dreams, and desires, however as non relatable this may be. Take care, fellow internet enthusiast!

#vqnillaclouds #vent post #Wow I really could have attempted to space out that first paragraph into smaller sections. It almost hurts to look at!

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thesassywallflower · 2 years

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Of Stitches and Satin

Characters - Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary - While you love running your family formal wear shop, sometimes you get a customer that drives you absolutely batty. So to cope you people watch the customers coming and going from the shops around yours. In particular one specific hunter, and sometimes you even let yourself daydream about that person.

Word Count - 2,674

Warnings - Steamy daydreams and that’s about it I think. This is my first Reader fic so all my apologies in advance for any pronoun and perspective mistakes. Please be gentle. Also this is unbeta-ed so more apologies for missed words, comma abuse and grammatical errors.

Happy SPN Fanfic Secret Santa to @waywardnerd67 who asked for a fluffy, smutty Dean x Reader! I hope you like it!

***

“If I have to sew this lace back onto this bodice one more damn time, I’m burning this dress and then sending the bride the bill for any damage to the shop…” You muttered around a mouthful of pins. This was it. The last bit of hand sewing needed to finish the seam holding the last bit of lace overlay on the bodice. Finally. Good lord, you’d dealt with numerous bridezillas over the years you’d spent running your formal wear shop, but this one took the cake. You’d altered this particular bride’s dress no less than fifteen times, and half of those alterations were an adjustment of a quarter inch or less. Once she’d demanded that you shorten the train by an eighth of an inch. A FRICKIN’ EIGHTH OF AN INCH. All because the bride said the train didn’t perfectly line up between the aisle as she walked down it! Like what the actual hell??

Normally you'd put your foot down after the fifth or sixth time, but when the bride was the daughter of your parents' college best friends, you could only bite your tongue and cope with it all by drinking an extra glass of wine or three after work. Mercifully the wedding was tomorrow so the Nuptial Nightmare wouldn’t have time to request another alteration…at least you hoped not. After this dress you were seriously going to have to rethink your customer contracts.

Most of the time you loved your job. Even with demanding brides and nightmare mother in laws, there wasn’t anything else you’d rather do. You loved the way a sixteen year old’s eyes light up as they tried on a ball gown for the first time and saw just how beautiful they truly were.

Loved seeing a mother of the bride’s happy tears as their daughter gasped with joy when they found that perfect dress.

Loved watching a seventeen year old’s shoulders straightened and immediately pulled a James Bond pose in the mirror as they tried on their first tuxedo.

But then there were the few like this particular Bridal Beelzebub that made you want to scream right into their botoxed and Juvedermed faces, “Fuck you! You can take your stupid lace and crinolines and shove them all up your ass! I’m gonna go clean Porta Potties for a living!”

Stretching your neck in an attempt to loosen the excruciatingly tight muscles that had formed from being hunched over a needle and thread for the past 4 hours. You glanced at the clock. 10:15! It was almost time for your favorite show. Which was ogling one Dean Winchester as he walked to and from the post office across the street. He didn’t show up daily. Sometimes weeks would pass between his visits, but when he did, he always -like a Swiss watch calibrated down to the millisecond- walked into the post office at 10:20. Sometimes with his brother and sometimes alone, but always precisely on time.

Most of the time he came out with the strangest boxes. Once you would’ve sworn the box he was holding was shaking and glowing a putrid yellow. Another time, it looked like he and Sam were carting out a body bag. But while it was entertaining to try to guess what they might be picking up, the real reason you liked to watch him walk into the post office was…well…to simply watch him walk down the street. Yes, that probably made you the absolute worst sort of creeper, but a person only had to glance at that man, and they would’ve been mashing their nose against your shop window right alongside you.

Quite simply the man was sex on a pair of long bowed legs. Gods above, the only thing better than watching him walk into the post office was the view from the back as he walked away. His ass alone could stop traffic and then there were those shoulders. Sigh. And the way he walked…It was like watching an ancient Viking march across the deck of his long boat. Like a Pict covering the battlefield in ground-eating strides on his way to take on the Roman legions invading his clans

You sighed in anticipation. Two minutes to go. Maybe just maybe, this time he’d stop by your shop too. Not that he ever did, but maybe the good Lord would reward your patience with the bride from hell with a visit from one of His most gorgeous creations. Now he was at your brother’s a couple times a month, but never yours.

Your family had been in the dry cleaning and formal wear business here in Lebanon for almost a century. The shop had been passed down through the generations starting with your great grandparents until it reached you and your brothers. Technically it was two stores. One the dry cleaners and one the dress shop, but you all considered it one store. You tackled the formal wear store, your youngest brother manned the dry cleaners, and your oldest brother ran the business side of it all. Dean had never stopped by your side of the business before, and why would he? Unless they had a wedding, prom, or gala event (not that those ever happened here in Lebanon), men generally avoided your shop like the plague. Which meant that Dean never stopped by your shop. The Winchesters were frequent customers of your brother’s though, and Vincent would occasionally send a shirt or jacket your way to patch up a tear or a hole. Why two men put their poor clothes through so much torture, you would never know. And things on those clothes! Blood and dirt you could explain away, but the other weird stuff? Your brother was always dragging you over to guess what would cause the stains on the men’s clothing. Just a couple weeks ago, they’d both brought in two complete outfits all covered in fuchsia goo that smelled oddly of pepperoni pizza. Like what the what??

The rumble of his Impala echoed down the street. There he was! He parked in his usual spot and stepped out of his car. Sweet mercy, he was wearing that emerald green buffalo checked plaid. This particular shirt was your favorite. It featured prominently in a number of your daydreams. In fact, it had been the star of the one you’d had before you’d fell to sleep last night…

He playfully tugged the bolt of satin you were rolling up out of your hands and tossed it onto the massive cutting table behind you. “Enough work for today, sweetheart. It’s time to dance, Y/N!”

‘But-but I need to finish adding the satin edge to that flower girl dress. They’re picking it up tomorrow evening!”

“I know, but all work and no play makes my girl a very tired and stressed out girl, and I can’t have that. Now step away from the satin and come dance with me.” Those velvety soft lips, grinned down at you. How could you resist that smile?

“Okay, okay,” you groused, secretly giddy to not only take a break, but to spend time with your favorite person.

Dean tapped his phone and immediately the sounds of Wilson Pickett’s version of Bring It On Home To Me filled the work room. Sliding his arms around you, he pulled you in close, so close you could feel buttons of his green flannel shirt brush against your chest, and began to sway you around the room.

“Thank you,” he smiled down happily at you as he twirled you around the workspace.

“For what?” you smiled back. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did. You took time out of your crazy work day to be with me. I know how busy you are this time of year, how many deadlines that you’re juggling and how much pressure you put on yourself to make all your customers happy. So it means the world to me knowing that you made time for little ol’ me.”

You felt a blush burning up the back of your neck and tried to deflect with humor. You’d never been one to take a compliment well. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call you little… Plus, do you remember how many plates of spaghetti you put down last night?”

“Hey now!” Dean squeezed your butt in retaliation, inadvertently causing your pelvis to press against his crotch. You softly gasped in reaction, heat instantly pooling in your center. He was already semi erect. How long had it been for you two? You’d both been so busy lately that there hadn’t been time for anymore then a lingering kiss here and there.

His eyes flared as he caught your quiet response. The song switched to Allen Rayman’s Lucy The Tease, as he gently grabbed your hips and ground his cock against your core. Like a match striking an iron stove, fire flared between you two, and you were dragging his head down to you. Your mouths met, and you both sighed. This. This was what you both needed so desperately. At first you kept it gentle. Each taking little sips from the other lips, a gentle nip here and there. Then his tongue licked along the seam of your lips and when you opened to him to tangle your tongue with his, all gentleness flew out the window. Hands tangled in hair, tore at clothing as you both struggled to find bare skin to touch.

“Too many clothes,” he rasped as he tugged at the strings of your heavy canvas work apron and pulled it and your shirt over your head.

“Me? Why do you have to wear so many shirts at a time?” A squeak punctuating your question as he licked at the tendons in your neck.

He kept walking you backwards until your ass hit the cutting table. He reached to lift you up on the oak surface.

“Wait! The satin!” you yelped.

“Fucking satin,” he huffed with exasperated laughter as he tugged off his flannel. He spread the soft green and black checkered material over the baby pink satin and smirked down at you, “Good?”

“Perfect.” You quickly unbuttoned your jeans and shimmied them down your legs and hopped up onto the table.

Dean stilled at the sight of you clad only in black and green plaid panties and matching bra. You laughed self consciously and nervously tucked stray strands of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail behind your ears. “What can I say? I have a thing for that shirt.”

“Sweetheart? You flatter me,” a wolfish smile tugged at his lips as his big, calloused hands slowly spread your thighs wide, and he knelt between them. Weighted seconds passed as he stared at the damp fabric covering your pussy. How were you getting wet by him just looking at you? It wasn’t fair. The man was a veritable warlock when it came to making love.

Then he was tugging at the waistband of your underwear, “Lift.” He commanded and you instantly complied. He dragged the panties off and tossed them who knew where. Then he leaned forward those last few inches and handed you heaven. He buried his face between your thighs and dragged his wicked tongue along your delicate lips before spreading them with his thumbs and blowing a stream of cool air directly on your swollen bud. The bud that was nearly vibrating for his touch.

“Dean!” you wailed, desperation threading your cry. “Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

The next thing you knew his tongue was dragging from your channel to the bud eagerly waiting for him. You hissed and your hips bucked upwards at just that simple touch. “More! Please!”

He then set to work on your clit, licking and suckling as you threaded your fingers through that short honey brown hair. One of those strong, clever hands of his reached up to unfasten your bra and began stroking your soft breasts, carefully pinching and tugging at your hard nipples. All the while he never stopped worshiping your pussy.

The heat and pleasure cascading through your body began to tighten and tighten until it exploded. You cried out, toes curling as you fell backwards, barely catching yourself on your elbows. It had been a long time since you’d come that fast. Dean stood up, wiping your moisture off his lips and slowly licked it off each finger. You whimpered, and your channel clenched in response.

“Your turn,” you purred as you eyed the length straining the limits of denim currently confining it. You couldn’t wait to get a taste of him. After all, turnabout's fair play and all that. You reached out and pried open that brass button and tugged down his zipper, careful to not catch any sensitive skin. He spilled out onto your waiting hand and you stroked his cotton covered cock, mouth watering for him.

“Sweetheart…” he groaned and pried your eager fingers off his length. “Y/N. Stop.”

You froze. “Do you not want me to-”

“No! Yes! No!” Dean pressed his forward to yours. “I mean yes, I want your mouth on my dick in the worst way possible, but it’s been so long that I want-need to be in you when I come. I need you to come with me. Together.”

Desire shafted through you in waves more intense than what you just experienced. “Oh. Okay then.”

“You sure?” he asked as he pulled his jeans and charcoal grey boxer briefs over his hips and tore off his henley and undershirt.

“Always. I’m always sure with you.”

The swollen head of his cock was nudging through your drenched folds and nestled at your aching entrance. He glanced down into your eyes, silently asking again. “Yes, my love, a million times yes,” you breathed as you tugged his lips down to yours again, desperately needing every inch of him touching you. You both gasped into the kiss at that first thrust. He didn’t stop until he filled you to the brim.

You stilled.

One breath passed.

Two.

Three.

Then he broke, thrusting and thrusting his cock in and out, grinding against your bud with each down stroke. You wrapped your legs around his hips and held on for dear life. He tore his lips from yours and captured one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around and around that hard tip. You dragged your short finger nails down his scarred and muscled back until you reached his ass. You began kneading and stroking those firm cheeks.

He thrust harder in response. That heat began to spiral again, only lower and deeper this time. You began chanting his name under your breath.

Close. So close.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I got you. You can come. I got you.” He murmured in your ear before nipping it.

With that you went over, pleasure radiating through every pore until you swore you saw fireworks. You screamed as that final wave crested. Dean was right behind you, pouring himself into you with a strained shout.

Panting, you clasped him in your arms and rested your cheek against his chest. He brushed a kiss against the crown of your head. “That was amazing. You’re an absolute goddess, Y/N.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sir,” you chuckled as you brushed a tender kiss against his jaw.

“Think that satin survived all that?” he snorted.

Your eyes flew open as you surveyed the damage around you. Clothes and underwear were strewn across the room. Somehow your bra was dangling off your mannequin’s head like it was a Von Dutch hat model in 2005. “Oh lord! The flower girl’s dress! I’m never going to be able to look her mother in the eye again after what we just did on it!”

Dean threw back his head and laughed, “I’m sure it’s-”

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG!!

The sharp peel of the bell above your door shattered your daydream. With a huff of mild annoyance you turned to face the customer rude enough to interrupt it.

Green eyes met your shocked ones. “Hi there. Do you happen to do suit alterations here?”

Tagging - @spnfanficpond and @mrswhozeewhatsis

#spnfanficpond secret santa #spn fic #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean x you #manda writes

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Aftermath

Request: This is a request that @mycosmicparadise asked me for a long time ago. Sorry, sweetie.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: After the events in New York, the team reunites to carry out the mission to get Loki's scepter, but things go wrong and your mission changes completely, now you have to go after Ultron, but you find yourself unable to keep your powers under control.

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of abuse.

Word count: 3972

A/N: Avengers Age of Ultron. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader's powers: She is a powerful empath, as she can sense and manipulate other people's emotions. Proficient unarmed combatant.

Hydra, Research Base, Eastern Europe.

You felt like your insides were full of hate and rage, every person you met through the thick forest, the only thing they felt when they saw you was dislike, mixed with the anger of wanting to get rid of you. Your powers worked because you kept your own emotions under control, but it was a constant struggle, as you used to feel inside you the emotions that others possessed and that made your insides filled with every negative emotion.

"Shit!" you heard Tony through the relay you had inserted in the back of your ear.

"Language!" Steve instantly rebutted him.

You held your position through the thick forest of Sokovia, Hydra's base was on top of a mountain, or rather it was the mountain itself, for around it they had built a rather impenetrable base that you wanted to access in order to get the Sceptre that you were unable to take from Loki at the time. Numerous clearly trained soldiers were trying to stop you in your tracks. Jarvis had informed you that the building was protected by an energy shield, which was against you as it was the most advanced technology you had seen in any Hydra base of operations.

"Loki's sceptre must be in there," Thor announced, as you guarded one of those soldiers under your body rendering him completely unconscious. "They couldn't have those defences without it."

You ran across the field trying to close the gap with Natasha, who was a few metres ahead of you, Clint following.

"Okay," you said staring at one of your targets and getting him to lower his gun to tackle him, "so what do we do?"

"Wait a second," Tony interjected. "No one else is going to deal with the fact that Cap just said "language?"

"I know," Steve replied, making your eyes roll at the distraction they were causing in the middle of the mission.

The graze of bullets was almost audible through your body, it seemed to go on forever, you had been going on for hours and all you could manage to do was run into more troops sent by Hydra to hold you in that quadrant of the forest. Natasha was trying to get rid of two guys who had tackled her, you turned to her and stared at one of them but just as you were about to make the mental connection something that you barely noticed made you fall to the ground.

"What the hell?" you exclaimed getting up again and looking around you hoping to find the cause of it.

"We've got an upgrade," Steve informed you.

"Wait, you don't call her 'language'?" Tony complained at the situation. "Okay, I'll tell her. Language!"

At that instant a muffled shout from Clint sounded behind you.

"Clint!" Natasha had effectively freed herself from the two henchmen and you both headed towards Clint, who had been shot from a bunker. "Clint's hurt. Can someone take care of that bunker?"

As if Natasha's words were an order, Hulk appeared out of nowhere to overwhelm the small building and the soldiers inside. You stood up and turned your full attention to your surroundings while Nat continued to perform the necessary treatment to alleviate the blow that your companion had received.

"Clint is in bad shape, he needs to be evacuated," Nat reported over the transmitter, as Thor and the Captain instantly landed next to you. "I can take Barton to the Quinjet," Thor replied and focused his gaze on Steve. "The sooner we leave the better.

"Copy that," Steve replied for both of you, but at that moment he noticed your face.

"Roger that," Steve replied for both of you, but at that moment he noticed your face. "Are you all right?"

You nodded, returning to an introspective position beside Natasha.

On the ride home, silence flooded the Quinjet more than ever, the mission had finally succeeded but it wasn't really in the air, it wasn't felt inside any of you, even though Stark had proposed a victory party.

The following days nothing had gone as planned, the analysis of the sceptre that Stark and Banner had carried out, more than an analysis it was a reconfiguration of a network of neurons that they had found, in order to create an artificial intelligence. Artificial intelligence that they used in Stark's secret 'peacekeeping' programme called Ultron, designed to allow the Iron Legion to operate independently. That brought some trouble, when at the end of the Party he showed up to personally attack you, well rather, the whole of humanity, as Ultron thinks the best way to save Earth is to eradicate humanity, he might be partly right.

"Ultron is gone," Banner's voice echoed within the four walls of the lab, "he has used the internet as an escape route."

"Ultron," you whispered to yourself, as one hand covered your face thoroughly.

"He's been all over. Files, surveillance," Natasha explained. "He knows more about us than we know about each other."

As the conversation continued to escalate, emotional energies radiated through the atmosphere, and you picked up on every one of them. Negativity, gathered together with worry, confusion and concern took over your body, you still felt a resentment from the attack you experienced three days ago in Sokovia, which managed to heighten each of the sensations. You closed your eyes as you hid your face with one hand and the other voices became ominous, frustrating your senses. Natasha was the only person who seemed to notice your situation, stopping the voices with a "guys", but just as they stopped, a small laugh from a completely distracted Tony typing on the computer made you burst.

"You think that's funny?" the hand hiding your face disappeared to give way to hard features and a raised, gruff tone of voice, Tony turned and looked at you a little quizzically, but you could see a hidden smile.

"No," he said indifferently. "It probably isn't, is it? This is terrible, it's so..." again his laughter tackled him, causing you to be completely confused and your frustration to grow. "I know. It's so terrible."

"It's just as terrible that you're taunting all of us right now with your fucking arrogance," you said approaching him.

"No," his tone unlike yours seemed pleasant and friendly, "It really is funny, just like it's funny that you don't understand why we need him," Tony closed the distance with you, positioning the two of you in the middle of the lab, his voice had completely changed it was just as gruff as yours.

"Tony, maybe this isn't the time," Bruce interjected in a melodic tone.

"So, a killer robot was what we needed?" you reproached, lifting your chin to position yourself against his height. "The shield that was supposed to free us from alien threats frees us by wiping out all of humanity, yeah, really brilliant."

"Remember I put a nuke through a wormhole?" he rebuked you, recalling for the umpteenth time that night the event in New York. "Tell me, how did you plan to win that? What was your damned solution to get rid of that damned hostile alien army that came through that wormhole in space?"

"Together," Steve interjected quickly, causing Tony to look away from you and back at Steve.

You made the air rush into your lungs offering you some relaxation, instigating your mind to let positive memories come to you. Your differences with Tony were known, your understanding of his views was limited, a fact that generated the occasional verbal conflict between the two of you, let's just say you couldn't stand each other more than you deserved.

The night was long, mostly because there was hardly any rest after planning what you were going to do to stop Ultron, which led you to South Africa.

"She should stay," Nat's whisper reached your ears. "The mission in Sokovia has left her with aftermath she has yet to overcome."

"Oh, last night was a aftermath?" Tony from the pilot's seat added to the conversation. "Nice."

"You know I'm here and I can hear you?" you asked without opening your eyes from your seat. "I'm coming down, worry about you guys that..."

"Okay, listen," Tony stood up from the command post. "I may regret saying this but I agree with her. I think you should stay here with Banner. Keep you two company. Get to know each other better. You know."

"Why don't you stay here, Tony, and get to know Banner better?" you opened your eyes and looked at Tony, but thought for a second. "Well, I'd better not, lest you get the bright idea to create Ultron's sister."

"He's an only child," Tony countered your irony.

"The roles are split," you added as a definitive point. "I'll take the girl, you take Ultron."

From a mountain fortress to a ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. You entered its interior, a quite feasible target, when in fact what you all feared lay within. Darkness fell over your pupils, the smell of dampness professed in every corner.

"You're with me, aftermath," reported a voice from behind a suit of armour. "Stay sharp, this guy is made by me."

The long corridors soon took you deep into the heart of the ship, they were as eager to run into you as you were to run into them, so it was only a couple of minutes before you were reunited in a vast maze of iron catwalks.

"Stark is a sickness!" exclaimed that robot called Ultron.

"Ahh, Junior," Tony posed in front of him and his two enhanced companions, "You're gonna break your old man's heart."

From that moment on things happened too fast for a clear description to be made. The corridors seemed to lengthen as you tried to keep that enhanced girl, Wanda, away from the others. She was powerful, trying to play with your mind and you with hers. It was a battle of mental endurance, if you could keep your mind blank and safe from all the negative things she was trying to make you see, you could keep going. It seemed doable, you seemed to have it under control, you had freed yourself from the transmitter that kept you in contact with the others to avoid any external distractions, but none of that was enough when a new enhancement came into play making you lose your balance completely, you felt the emptiness flooding you, as if your body was falling unchecked into the darkness.

A halo of light circled over your eyes making you recognise what was around you, you had escaped, you had fled from that ship thousands of miles in space and time. A figure that you recognised instantly was in front of you, smiling at you, raising her hand to caress your face, it was the figure of your mother, she was laughing, but with each laugh the atmosphere became darker. The main living room of your house appeared before your eyes, but it seemed totally neglected, the furniture was worn out, there was dust and mould in every corner, your mother was prostrate on the floor and a figure without a face was on top of her beating her, you heard the screams of a little girl, they were quite familiar, they were yours. That scene began to repeat itself over and over again, reliving your childhood, you fought to try to change it, but you had no control over it or over your mind at that moment, time after time the pain invaded you and although you tried to stop it, it became impossible again. You had entered a loop, you had lost track of time and space, you couldn't run away from it. Your own mind had become part of it.

Your ears only picked up your screams and those of your mother, you kept your eyes open but your vision was not able to see, you fell to your knees wherever you were in reality and you stayed there, until someone managed to locate you.

"I got her," as a faint whisper drifted into the scene you were living. "Okay. You're safe, I've got you."

As if you were again falling into the void your body rose into the air, and the darkness once again hovered over you, causing all your limbs and your brain to go into a deep, eternal sleep.

Without really knowing where you were, you could hear a faint hissing sound that came more and more strongly to your senses. Light broke through your eyelids, which were struggling against their will to open. Familiarity with the space made you realise where you were. The whistling sound was coming from the air hitting the Quinjet, for all was silent inside. You sat up slowly, the mental pain was suffocating, not only because of what you had seen and what you had been through, but because you could feel the same sensations all around you.

You sat up, covering your face with your hands and hiding it between your legs trying to pull yourself together, but at that moment you felt someone kneel down right in front of you and put a hand on the back of your neck.

"What can I do?" Tony's voice sounded cautious, but there was really little he could do in those few square metres of anguish, so you just shook your head. "Okay, look at me," you shook your head again not wanting to have direct access to any more emotions at the moment, "Look at me. Please."

Your breathing was rapid and your heart kept shrinking, causing a lump in your throat that almost prevented you from breathing. You couldn't extract everything you had inside you, nor could you find the calm you needed to let him go, you were afraid to look at him to interfere with his feelings and manipulate them by offering him yours, you were also afraid of acquiring his negative emotions and adding them to your own. But still you felt his hand go to your chin and he gently lifted it up to catch your face in his gaze.

"In a couple of hours we'll be in a shelter," his face was close, his fingers held firmly on your chin. "Do you think you'll be okay?"

A subtle nod is what you offered in reply, Tony nodded as well and took a seat right next to you after having moved closer to Barton.

"In a couple of hours we'll be in a shelter," his face was close, his fingers held firmly on your chin. "Do you think you'll be okay?"

A subtle nod is what you offered in reply, Tony nodded as well and took a seat right next to you after having moved closer to Barton. Those two hours seemed endless, you kept your hands pressed to your temple trying to forget what you had seen, but more so what you had felt. Tony, along with Barton were the only ones who had not suffered the effects of Wanda Maximoff's mind control on you on that occasion, it was evident from the physical and mental state of the other teammates.

Tony stayed by your side for the entire 120 minutes, worried and afraid that everything that had happened was his fault, and it was all coming back to you.

"Stop," you whispered trying to get Tony's attention.

"How?" he whispered and bent his face closer to yours, which was resting on your hands.

"Stop flogging yourself, I've had enough of the others," you pleaded a little rudely, unable to control yourself.

"I'm sorry," he placed his palm on your back, but an uncomfortable gesture from your shoulder caused him to remove it a second later. "I'm sorry."

A couple of hours later, the Quinjet took up position on a large greenish esplanade, the greenest thing your eyes had ever seen in your life. In the centre was a small cottage, cosy enough for anyone to see. Tony held you firmly, as it seemed that your body would fall if he let go. You went inside together, a hospitable warmth surrounded each of your limbs causing you to get some peace in you after hours.

Time seemed to have taken its toll on your senses, as you barely understood half of what was being said around you. But everything changed when two children entered, bringing joy and life to the room, it was the most comforting thing you had felt in weeks, the innocence that each of them possessed was like a breath of fresh air to you. You gently removed your arm from Tony's shoulders, murmuring "I'm feeling better," and he returned an "Okay" with a still worried look on his face. Actually Barton's idea of taking you there had been really successful for all of you, except for Thor who left, but for the rest of you it was something you'd never been able to contemplate in your lives, kind of like what it would be like to have a family.

Sunset was near and the view from that wooden porch surrounding the house was charmingly soothing.

"You look good," Tony appeared behind you with his hands in his pockets and perched next to you, leaning on the railing.

"Thank you," you said, looking back up at the grove of trees that loomed before your eyes. "And thanks for earlier."

" For what?" he asked with confusion in his voice.

"When you tried to reassure me on the Quinjet," you said without looking at him. "And... I think it was also you who took me back."

"Yep," Tony put his hand to the back of his neck and turned to you. "The truth is, that process would have been a lot more feasible if you hadn't gotten rid of the transmitter, it would have saved me a lot of time."

"I know," you ducked your face, but a small smile appeared on it.

"Do you want to talk?" Tony's voice seemed somewhat hesitant after stating the question.

"No," you shook your face, letting the last rays of sunlight fall on him. "Do you want to talk?"

"What do you feel?" he answered your question with another question, ignoring it completely. "What do you feel inside when you feel us?"

"I feel what other people are feeling," you explained, looking at him for the first time. "If I concentrate I can feel what you're feeling right now, or what Steve is feeling, or how the Hulk feels when he turns."

"How?"

That conversation you'd had on several occasions in your life, but at no point had you had it with Tony, you hadn't been close at any point, closeness you could find in Natasha or even Steve, but not in Tony, that's why that moment was peculiar, as well as comforting.

"It's easy when my emotions are in control," you turned your body towards him and leaned against the wooden railing. "I just have to look at my target and focus on how he feels, knowing that whatever is inside him I'm going to feel it too," you focused your gaze on Tony's eyes, "for instance, right now you're remorseful about what happened with Ultron, but you also feel misunderstood because no one understands your point of view, you're also melancholy about being in this place, a little envious about discovering the life that Barton has, and..." you paused slightly as you discovered one of his feelings, but you chose to ignore it, as he seemed to be really nervous about the process of analysis he was undergoing, "embarrassed because right now I'm feeling the same way you are.”

You offered him a slight smile, which he himself returned a little nervously at the exposition you had offered him, Tony was a very rigorous person when expressing himself and this had completely thrown him off.

"That..." he put one hand nervously to the back of his neck while the other was hidden in his trouser pocket. "Great, I guess it's nice to know I'm not empty. But well, we'd better keep this between us."

"Of course," for the first time you felt a little satisfied with your task just done, it was nice to see that this person could shed his pride on several occasions.

"Well, I'd better go and help Rogers chop wood," he said, standing up beside you and scratching the bridge of his nose.

" Yes, he certainly looks like he could use your help," you commented wryly as Steve had little difficulty chopping wood in one fell swoop.

"Yeah," he shoved his hands in his pockets and slipped out of the place as quickly as possible.

Within a minute you could feel him perch next to you again, leaning his body on the railing and looking at you.

"That's all you found?" he asked with a frown and gesturing nimbly with his hand, a gesture that denoted nervousness. "I mean, there was nothing else."

"What do you mean?" you frowned as he did, looking completely puzzled, since you already knew what he meant.

"Well..." he scratched the back of his neck again, "Do you usually do this to me? I mean, have you ever gone inside my head before to see how I'm feeling or have you only done it this once? Is it usual?"

"Do you really think I want to know what you keep in your head Tony?" you asked holding back a laugh at his reaction.

"Okay," he gave a long nod biting the inside of his lip. "And there was nothing else you said?"

"Do you want me to try again? Maybe I can find something else," you offered humbly, knowing what he wanted.

"No, it's... all right," his words were accompanied with a step back, putting distance between you and him. "It's all right. I'm... going to go help Cap."

"Okay," you bit your lower lip as you watched him disappear behind you again. behind you again.

You watched as Tony walked over to Steve's pile of firewood and picked up an axe to imitate his movements. You remained in your position, keeping your gaze lost in that grove of trees that made you feel so calm, but it was very easy to catch Tony's gaze watching you from his position. He knew that you had felt it, because perhaps it was one of the emotions that was strongest inside him at that moment, but evidently you didn't want to expose it out loud, and let him know that you had discovered it. Yet there it was, and it was going to take you too long to forget that feeling, because it felt too good to let it go.

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keichanz · 4 years

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when i first read this, i was sad. then i read it again, and i started to get angry because how dare you?

normally these types of reviews don’t bother me; i’ve gotten so much anon hate lately i’m basically immune to it now and i just let it roll of my shoulders like no BFD because it’s not. it’s a waste of my time to read bullshit so i don’t.

but this one. this one really bothers me because you have no right to say something so callous to someone who agonized and lost sleep and researched until her eyes bled in order to create a fic that she was so excited to share with her readers.

yes, I realize You Rescued Me is one of my more detail oriented fics with background context and a lot more plot than some of my other ones. there’s murder, there’s a bit of mystery, there’s romance, there’s complex world building that i will openly admit that is definitely not my strong suit. i struggle with subtle intricacies, and foreshadowing, and tying little details together because i tend to forget about them in my excitement to advance the story. i am not good with coming up with analogies, or imaginative, complex murder mysteries (I’lll leave that to Witchy and her amazing story Deductions because i am always just so fucking astounded when i read that it’s so wonderfully thought out and put together)

but you know what? i did my best. i did my fucking best and yeah, there probably are loopholes i missed. there probably are numerous errors and discrepancies that contradict something i wrote earlier on in the story, amid the no doubt endless spelling and grammatical errors in earlier chapters, before i had a beta.

newsflash, asshole: i’m not perfect.

i will make mistakes. my writing is by no means flawless or smooth, but you know what? i’m better than i was yesterday. i’m better than i was the day before that, the month before, the year before, because authors never stop learning. we adapt, we learn, we grow, and we improve and we strive to become better writers, better creators than we were before.

You Rescued Me was for sure not easy to write, but it’s one i would gladly write again, because it challenged me. It forced me to slow down, to really think about what needed to be written, so my readers can glimpse into my mind and see exactly what plays out.

YRM is my baby. It’s not as long as DD, but it’s definitely more fleshed out with a deeper, more serious plot and I’m very proud with how it turned out. so don’t you fucking stand there and tell me i’m not good at storytelling or regular writing, because I have dozens of followers and readers that would heartily disagree with you. and yes, again i will admit, maybe it’s not my strong suit, but that doesn’t mean i should stick to something i’m good at, like smut, as your example.

no, what it means is i’m just going to work harder. practice makes perfect after all, and if i’m not good at something but i want to be, well then the solution is obvious, isn’t it.

write more. challenge myself. and, most importantly, give a great big, giant, fuck you to the naysayers like yourself that leave unnecessary and callous comments such as this. really, why did you feel the need to tell me this? if you think my smut is better to read than an actual story with plot and character, then go read my smut if that’s what you enjoy. nobody is forcing you to read my apparently subpar storytelling.

okay. yeah i just had to get this off my chest. so fuck you, anon, and if there’s a chance that you’re on tumblr and you see this post, i hope i made you feel guilty for being an asshole. this was completely uncalled for, and count yourself lucky you reviewed anonymously because had you not, all of this?

this would have been sent directly to you.

peace out bitch and check those ‘roids in your asshole since apparently it’s corrupting your sense of decency and judgement.

#rant #dammit keiz #what is wrong with people #seriously

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ilooklikeaburntchickenugget · 3 years

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Only Mine Pt. 2

A/N: Part 2! I’m really sorry if there are any grammatical errors. I haven’t updated in a bit, wanted to give you guys something, so I haven’t really proof read... like at all. So yeah, if there’s some weird mistakes it’s that. Pairing: Gerard Way x F!Reader Word count: 2339 Warnings: Implied smut, a few curse words (I think one, tbh)

The Grammys. An artists dream award.

To even be recognized by the Grammys was already a huge deal for any singer, songwriter, or band. But to be nominated for 10 awards? That was a whole other ballgame.

That’s where you stood tonight though. On the large red carpet in a formal ball gown, an off shoulder look with a slit next to your leg, and it was a beautiful emerald green color, Gerard next to you in a solid black tux. Usually he would say no to these events, but it was you. And this could have been the night you received your greatest accomplishment ever, so he was not going to miss it for the world.

Just like Gerard had predicted, My Midnight Boy was an absolute hit. Many were already considering it the album of the decade, and was placed on to Billboard Top 100 at #1 for over 12 weeks, with over half of the songs reaching the top 5. While that was exciting for so many reasons, a lot of other things in your personal life took a 180. For starters, paparazzi were everywhere. Anytime you or Gerard walked out of your New York apartment, a line of at least half a dozen paps were suited with large cameras to take as many photos as possible. When the two of you were together, there were usually 20. So naturally, you both had to hire security. It was never a decision that you wanted to make, it was one that needed to happen.

Next, your band broke up. Apparently, the boys there couldn’t take your individual success and broke up in a screaming fight which left you crying in a studio, and Gerard having to come and console you for a few hours, reminding you that they left because they couldn’t handle your fame and success.

Your fandom also grew immensely, which was great. You loved scrolling through your Instagram and Twitter everyday, only to see hundreds of fans show off your merch. Some even had Y/N Y/L/N themed parties, rooms, and costumes. It was all so overwhelming, in a good way.

You and him had both done numerous interviews at this point. You were especially glad that Gerard was being asked about My Chem, and not just you. And the questions that did come about you, he would always have the sweetest most genuine answers. “She’s honestly the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I’m so lucky to have her as my best friend and fiancee.” “She’s a musical genius, honestly. She’s way smarter, way more beautiful, and way more talented than me. Which I’m okay with because she deserves and has earned everything she has.” “She surprises me everyday. She has new, crazy ideas for music. And they all work. She just makes it work.”

And every time you would stand off with a huge smile and even more prominent blush on your face. Finally, at one point, you were asked about Gerard. After all, it was pretty well known now that “My Midnight Boy” was, well, Gerard.

“He’s honestly the best man ever.” You smiled and looked over at him as he just smiled, “I wouldn’t have written as genuine, and heartfelt songs about anyone else. He just makes me feel every emotion, and he’s the one who brings out the best me. He’s my number one supporter, and he always reminds me of that. I couldn’t dream of a more perfect person to spend the rest of my life with.” You could feel your lover squeeze your hand in a small gesture of thanks. You both smiled, departing from that interviewer where your manager met you at the end of the carpet.

“You both did great.” He smiled, “Now the official show starts in about 20 minutes, so they’re beginning to urge everyone to take their seats. Since both of you are done with interviews, it’s probably a good time to head in.” The two of you nodded, being led into the auditorium where you were seated in the first row. Best of the best.

You had an insane amount of people, stars who you had never even dreamt of meeting, coming up and introducing themselves, starting small talk about just how incredible your album was.

You were quite overwhelmed by everything, being at the Grammys hadn’t really sunk in until you were actually there. Gerard could tell, pretty easily, and simply placed his hand on your knee, giving it a lightly squeeze. “It’s okay, sugar,” He whispered into your ear, “You’re doing great.” You gave him a tight smile, him returning one back.

Only a few minutes later, the awards started. You had to admit, it was less glamorized than what seeing it on TV made it out to be. Of course the performances were great, but the moments of complete boredom during commercial breaks and such made you realize were so many stars had complained some about the Grammys.

“After this,” You yawned during once of the breaks, placing your head on Gerard’s shoulder, “Can we go home and eat get some Chinese take out?” “Whatever you want, love.” He kissed the top of your head. You and him were not into much PDA, so anything beyond a hand hold or kiss was a lot.

“And a movie?” You asked next and he smiled.

“Of course, darling.” You smiled back, picking your head back up. The show restarted, both of you sitting back up as they continued going through some of the smaller categories, finally hitting the large ones.

“Next up, we have song of the year.” The two announcers smiled. They went through a list of artists along with their songs, Ariana Grande, Beyonce, and a few more were included, “Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N.” They said and you smiled, Gerard next to you smiling as well as the cameras flashed to the two of you.

“And the award goes to...” It took them a few moments to open the card, your heart beginning to race. You grabbed onto Gerard’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and him squeezing back as your eyes went wide in anticipation, breaths caught in your throats.

“Cardigan, Y/F/N Y/L/N!” You heard cheering as you let out both a breath and a huge smile. You stood up with Gerard, who was already standing and clapping as you gave him a hug, him immediately hugging you back and giving you a kiss on the lips as the cheers continued. You only stayed for a few seconds before smiling at him again, and running up to the stage to the best of your abilities.

You hugged the two announcers as they handed you your very own Grammy. You looked at it only for a brief moment, holding it while you walked up to the mic. “Okay, so this is absolutely insane.” You sighed as a few people began laughing. “This is my first Grammy ever, and to even be able to be nominated for something like this was enough for me. But winning is beyond my wildest dreams.” You took a brief pause to actually breathe, “I want to thank all my friends and family who let me follow my passions and dreams of being a musician, I would like to thank my wonderful fiancee and muse who, without him, this song and no other song on that album would have been written. And I would like to thank every single fan who has stuck by me through thick and thin. You guys are what keeps me running every day and give me motivation to keep pushing my music further even when it may seem like I can’t, or it’s impossible. This is just so crazy, but thank you everyone!” You smiled as the cheers re-erupted, the trophy being taken away from your temporarily.

You found yourself right back in your loving fiancees arms before sitting back down. “You just won a Grammy.” He sat in awe and began lightly laughing, “You just won a Grammy!” “I know!” You responded, too in shock. “I really hope you do realize I couldn’t have ever done it without you though.” You smiled at him.

“Oh, please,” He scoffed, “You’re a musical genius. You could easily do anything without me.” “But you’re my muse!” You defended.

“Which is extremely flattering, thank you.” He gave you a peck on the lips, “But seriously, you deserve every inch of that award. You worked hard for it. You deserve it.” You smiled up at him.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” “Oh, not nearly as incredible as you darling.” By the end of the night, you had managed to do what almost no other artist had done. Won 10 Grammys in one night.

You stood on the large red carpet, dozens of Grammy logos behind you as you yourself held 10 trophies, stacked on one another, up to your chin. You smiled at all the cameras, flashing from a million different directions, your name being yelled over and over as they tried to get your attention.

Finally, you got the okay to walk off, a few people helping to retrieve your awards, which would later get your name engraved into them. At the end, behind everyone and all the chaos was your manager and Gerard, who both stood and smiled at you. You ran into his arms, giving him a tight hug as he gave you one back.

“I’m so proud of you.” He smiled down at you, your height difference pretty visible.

“Thank you.” You smiled like a fool giving you a quick kiss.

“I can’t believe it, Y/N,” Your managed spoke, “You did it!” You nodded and gave him, too, a hug. “This is huge. I mean, absolutely huge!” You nodded. “You set a record, you have 10 Grammys, I mean-” “It feels too good to be true.” You commented and he nodded. “Are you two heading to any of the after parties?” You shook your head, “I assumed not.” He smiled, “Which actually makes my life easier because I don’t have to go and monitor either.” You lightly laughed, “Well you two go home, and relax. Have some fun, but not too much fun.” He smirked.

“Oh shut up.” You rolled your eyes and waved as you and Gerard went to the back entrance to be picked up by a driver who was taking you back to your LA home.

Gerard opened the front door, letting you in first, and closing it once he got in. You slipped off your shoes with a sigh. “I think I’m gonna go upstairs, take off my makeup and all.” You lightly smiled at him. “I’ll come with you.” He smiled back. The two of you ran up the stairs like foolish teenagers in love, stumbling from one stair to another before reaching the top floor and running to the master bedroom, Gerard shutting the door eagerly behind you.

He immediately ran up to you after that, giving you a long and passionate kiss. You melted into him, letting him gently push you onto the plush bed. “So we’re on the same page?” You pulled away for a brief moment to catch some air. He lightly laughed.

“Yeah, babe.” He went right back to his assault on your lips, moving down to your neck and collarbone, finding your sweet spot quickly where you let out a loud moan. “Gee,” You begged and he hummed.

“Yes, baby doll?” He inquired, looking up to you from where he continued to plant kisses on your collar bone.

“Please.” Your strained and needy voice sounded.

“Please, what, baby?” He teased you a bit and you lightly huffed.

“Just fuck me.” You said with confidence this time.

“Your wish is my command.”

That led you to laying beside him, your body covered in both his and your own sweat. His arm was tightly wrapped around you as he played with your hair. He gave you a quick kiss. “Where’re you going?” You whined. He looked back and lightly laughed.

“To clean you up, sugar.” He lightly smiled, walking into the en suite. “I don’t deserve you.” You muttered and smiled, pulling the duvet over your bare body.

“I could say the same for you.” He smiled, coming back with a towel. “You’re just too damn perfect.” He sighed.

“Oh, c’mon Gee, don’t lie to you or me.”

“I mean it,” He climbed into bed next to you, “You are perfect.”

“Sure,” You sighed, he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

“I’m going to work my entire damn life to make you understand you’re perfect if I have to.” You placed your head on his shoulder.

“I love you.” You smiled up at him.

“I love you too.” He smiled back.

“Now can we get Chinese food.” He lightly laughed.

“Yes, of course.” He got up, wrapping himself in a towel, “And then watch Star Wars?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, what else we would watch?” “I don’t know,” He sighed, “A horror movie-” “I don’t like those, Gee.” You whined.

“I know,” He smiled, “That’s why we don’t watch them.” You got up yourself, taking part of a throw blanket to cover yourself as you walked into your walk in closet, grabbing your Star Wars PJs.

“Gee,” You called into his closet, “You better be wearing your-” “Star Wars PJs? Yeah, I know.” He walked out with them on, and you with yours.

“Perfect.” You smiled and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You know I am so proud of you, right?” He looked over at you as you were walking down the stairs. You smiled, blushing and involuntarily covering your face with your sleeves to hide it. “Oh c’mon! I wanna see your pretty face.” He complained.

“Thanks.” You looked up at him lightly, still shying away from the praise.

“C’mere sugar.” He opened up your arms which you walked in as he held you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “You really are perfect. Too perfect, but perfect.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfiction #gerard way #gee way #my chemical romance #My Chem #my chemical gerard #my chemical gee #my chemical romance x reader

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.1)

I KNOW MY EDIT SUCKED. HEH. That’s my book cover in Wattpad. Couldn’t post CHAPTER 23.2 there because the application is glitching and I’m annoyed af. Anyway, enjoy this chapter for WOTN.

CHAPTER 23

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe a witch isn't the key for your getaway because it could be deeper than that.

Warnings: The summary sucked. I couldn't write anything to avoid spoilers. LMAO. Curses. Tybalt and Geralt banter/hate for each other? 😂 Rohesia is my OC, not connected to any of the games or books. The witcher character named Gerd (AHA. I'VE INTENTIONALLY DID THIS. Surprised to see a stomach sickness used as a name lmao jk 😂) from the Bear school has been used. Bethleheigm is also a made up kingdom from moi. 😂 (Pronounced as Beth-le-haym)

Words: 4.3k

A/N: I know Kaer Morhen is located in Kaedwen. Damn it. I lately knew it when I was already half way through this fic and I can't change it anymore. Let's just say...oof. They'll eventually go there. Don't worry. Oop. Is it a spoiler? 😭

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (Credits to the rightful owners of the gifs, it’s written in the lower part of their gifs. Though, some don’t. Still, credits to them. If you want it to be removed, just kindly message me) The edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books or games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

DAY THREE CAME QUICKLY THAN WHAT WAS EXPECTED. Taking the shorter route to keep the proximity of hours easier for traveling back faster to Kaedwen. Geralt and Tybalt had an allayed journey towards the outskirts of Bethleheigm.

If a narrator was utterly dramatic, he or she could say that the witcher was beyond exhausted over being with the higher vampire because he only knew how to gall him over and over---a deathless cycle through out their travel, side by side with their own horses and vexation over each other. Yet, Geralt rarely has given him his energy for a battle that was pathetic as it ends.

They've both shared a night somehow. Their backs meters away from each other. With Geralt and his sarcasm never shutting one's eye until Tybalt was cursing him out under the moon light because the white wolf warned him not to think about hunting people to quench his thirst for blood. The higher vampire was left throwing him a pebble on his back and muttering how the full moon won't be until the day of the feast in the castle where he would technically celebrate over being a vampire but this choice could also be eradicated since blood was not in the highest scale in his pyramid law of needs.

Nights weren't the only thing shared between the two. Unbeknownst to them till Geralt was humming in displeasure, they've actually shared a drink of your home made ale. Tybalt commented how it was as good as Kaedwenian stout---perhaps, even better. Mentioning that the beer was probably made of your love for him which made the witcher scrunch his nose for how cheesy it sounded. Tybalt even declared numerical reasons as to why he kept you with him until today because you knew how to make his drunkard self swoon over your culinary skills.

Your cookery abilities were still different and utmost impressive than Geralt's regardless of how he has been used to embellishing his own food alone before. His midget's skills were technically amazing, add up the peculiar recipes that only you know---but, actually existed in earth---your earth. Those recipes that could get his family and him included, humming in deliciousness because it was new for their taste buds.

They were ought to arrive at the abandoned house today. Side by side, Tybalt and Geralt silently rode on their horses. Both of them fed up at the opposite of every presence that galled them to the brim. The witcher blurting out his opinions very frankly at the scowling vampire who was acting like he wasn't there along the hunt.

"You should've just stayed in the castle and played with your army stocks," Geralt grumbled as he held onto Roach's reigns. Tybalt's advancements for what he has done to you never leaving his memories when he clearly remembered the causes about why he was hating him more than to drown in a monster's stinking guts.

"I should've stabbed yer' horse while we were travelling---or feed off to er' horse blood," Tybalt clapped back, sending the remark in the nonchalant way as possible with a sarcastic raise of his brows.

"Leave Roach out of this,"

"Gods, yer' such a strange one, Witcha'!"

The witcher's scowl was as nasty as an Alghoul's bum. Tybalt seemed to be thoroughly embittered for even tagging along with a cold heart that was grudging to even join his hunt. If it weren't for the queen's request, he would never even be within Geralt's area of personal space. Howbeit, people have been trying to frustrate him even more with their sudden decisions erupting from either sides, like a dormant volcano that no one expects to explode.

Grey undertoned house. Ramshackled from the roof till the decaying roots of stones stuck in between their spaces. Close enough to be dilapidated if a wolf would've tried blowing the house down---though, the three little pigs weren't inside for it to hunt. They were closing in towards their destination, Geralt was anticipating this point of their journey; to immediately seek for the witch and to come back sooner than expected.

Yet, his anticipation burned in disappointment by the familiar look of the house rooted in front of them.

He'd heard stories about this abandoned home in Bethleheigm through drunk men in the Inns. They were having a tete-a-tete that it was a boobey trap made by homeless pirates who hadn't gotten back to shore, concealing the home as a place for them to steal one's belongings until they were ripped off their coins. Some tattled that the house was a dragon's nest where a woman lived in and disguised as one that Geralt knew entirely as a bullshit rumor because no dragons would dare pick to stay in the middle of a forest where the house was the only home built through out the map.

The witcher jumped off his horse, hushing Roach down with a soft caress to her mane because she'd begun to neigh.

Tybalt couldn't help but cackle from how he was affectionately eyeing the horse as if she was his other half, "---I wouldn't be surprised if ye' bring yer' horse with ye' while you bed yer' little woman!" he outlaughed and had a hand on his clothed stomach, shaking his head from the witcher's strange gestures with everything.

"Hmm."

Geralt gave him the side eye, endlessly shooting daggers since the moment they bonded together. His comment receiving a lour from the brooding white wolf because of the baldy judgement said.

"Yer' grumpier than usual---like ye' have been in a fight with yer' current flame---is it the tiny lass, anotha' one of your sorceresses or princess?" the Upir quipped with a smirk, hopping off his own horse before giving the house a look. He seemed to waver with a clear of his throat.

Geralt disregarded his ridicule and question with a blessed silence, his mood turning sour from even mentioning you. The weccan's golden eyes scanned all over the tumbledown house, his amber narrowing as he examined what was expected to be a necromage's hideout that he has heard from one of the drunk men's gossips in the inns.

"This abandoned house," he gruffly started beneath his baritone, harsh breathing as Geralt huffed for his disappointment over the founded location. The bind he had with you turning heavier as days go by like he knew you were turning into a melancholic person due to his faults. Hence, it was keeping him more insane than he can ever be because he always seem to offer only mistakes towards his people---where they end up getting hurt because of him.

Which wasn't new in his life.

"---There is no hag in here. Only a Necromage I presume."

Tybalt walked several steps to stop beside Geralt, shrugging his fur-coated shoulders with a curl of his upper lip, "I told ye' to take the longer route. Right path, Witcha'."

"And I told that you are bringing us both in an early demise because Golems and Downers are bound to get in our way,"

The higher vampire kept his mouth shut after that, his foot tapping on the ground before he received a subtle warning of Geralt's glare. The witcher was right about it. Basically, Tybalt was trying to stall over their journey because he knew what exactly was the stratagem kept for a clandestine truth bound never to be known.

Geralt pushed his peculiar fidgets away as it was still sounding so loud with his heightened hearing. He narrowed his eyes upon the engraved words carved inside the four corners of a mettalic flattened surface stuck on the grimy, stoned walls.

"Thou who shall take a step, requires a fee for entrance and something valuable to heart in order to talk with death,"

He silently read the words inside his head. Considering the requests before slightly pursing his lips, the ends looking like a frown but was actually just irrespective of what he was currently thinking. The ramshackle home being surrounded by an invisible strong force field shielded for not any normal man could trespass in without the rules asked. Another form of magic that he knew---though, this wasn't just any simple sign. It was created by sorceresses or wizards to safeguard the whole home for decades end, not risking anyone to touch whoever was inside, like it was keeping something from entering the place.

Geralt gave Tybalt a look while the vampire continued to whistle along the winds, his arms crossed in front of his chest whilst checking his awfully long nails, intentionally ignoring his companion until the witcher tried to grab onto a rock, strongly throwing the stone towards his head until Tybalt used his abnormal abilities, instantly dodging the stone coming forth and sprinting beside Geralt in just a second to see him nodding his head for his crackerjack skills that he seldomly uses.

"Coins." the white haired weccan roughly stated before he heard Tybalt huff and grumble from his demands, giving his palm to him and expecting for a bag of coins to be placed on his hands.

"You have your own, Witcher."

Geralt cocked his head to the side with a feigned smile, shaking his head, "My coins will remain untouched. I'm not risking mine for favors asked."

"Fuck you and yer' coins. I hope you feckin' go slow and die as soon as you're done with us,"

In the end, Tybalt eventually had to fish out a bag of crowns inside his coat, begrudgingly dropping them off on the witcher's awaiting palm who has shrugged his broad shoulders for his easy submission. The words to the engraved poster switching to dust, swirling through the air, changing into an arrow pointing at a brick where Geralt had to slightly touch for it to be pushed back.

Thorny, earthy tone colored vines snaked their way out of the hole. The brick of the old house never being seen as the roots formed a symbol of two palms sticking together like it was asking for alms. Geralt placed the coins on the makeshift hand, slowly slithering its way back to its home.

The house was alive. He was sure of that when he felt the aegis slowly fading away. Its stone doors cracking to slide open for them to enter.

Tybalt hasn't moved a step from his side. He returned to crossing his fairly muscled arms, hearing hasty pads of footsteps shuffling from behind as Geralt halfly turned to see a Hirrika panting on his side, yelping as a way of his bark towards the witcher who had his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and stupefaction; stunned to see the familiar beast who has impressively found him despite of his long travel.

"Kolby."

"Your whore's feral pet," The Upir deadpanned, chuckling nasally like a sarcasm.

Tybalt heard a low growl coming the monster, his fangs shown to the vampire who he could sense and remember, his scent awfully making him remember how he'd hurt his master.

"Watch it." Geralt gruffly mumbled, giving Tybalt the side-eye as he tried monotonely hushing the rare beast like how he'd seen you soothe his annoyance or anger whenever Jaskier irritates Kolby.

"Down, Kolby. No teeth." he gruffly scolded with a raise of his palm.

The Hirikka chattered like a cat as he glared at Geralt's temporary companion, spinning on his own place before howling, his snout tilted at the sky as he yowled, the sound making him wince from how loud it was---too sensitive for his heightened hearing. Though, that didn't stop him from judging his gestures, noticing how he was jumping in his own spot whilst doe eyes stared back.

"He's saying something," the white wolf frankly stated, exhaling a languid breath through his nose because he couldn't understand what he wanted, "---Stay here and don't touch Roach or my Hirikka." he mentioned for Tybalt who appeared to be mentally finding their whole interaction as comedic. Geralt took a step forth, subtly leaving a pat on Kolby's head that eventually calmed him down, making him skip his paws to the side.

The Hirikka jumped to sit on his short tail, his knees bent and close to his chest as he silently watched Tybalt and Geralt conversing together with snarls and insensitive jests until the witcher finally moved away from him, bravefully entering the threshold.

"Where ye' going?" Tybalt called out and made him cease his steps, promptly giving the growling Hirikka his heed to see Geralt judging with his slightly entertained peepers, fighting off the curl of his lips because of how his Hirikka was making the higher vampire uneasy. He was agile but lacked knowledge over the beastiality of the continent. Probably, because of how he has been confined in the castle in an early age and known more politics and schemes more than the lore of monsters.

"To ask the Necromage about that witch,"

"Just like that?"

"She might know her whereabouts. Stay here if you don't want to get your vampire nails grimy,"

Tybalt cocked his head to the side, effusive of cursing out the witcher who had a smirk as he turned his back away from him, continuing his path around and ignoring his cavils.

"Why am I even following ye' around, Mutant?"

Geralt of Rivia entered the perimeters. His newly sharpened swords latched on his wide, broad back. Every step had his chest heavier than usual; bred-in-the-bone like he knew there was something happening to you back in the castle that he couldn't decipher and it made him scowl. The energy in the house even adding more of that deep-seated feeling---the home being cursed as well like some sort of magic was ceasing his advancements from talking to this person living inside.

The place wasn't ruined after all. It was all charmed and just a mere visionary trap or distraction that won't let people fall for even staying close to whoever was inside. Clean and utterly fixed, furnitures sat on their proper rooms which held up a second floor that Geralt didn't plan on exploring for as a presence could be felt while he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Necromage,"

This person was a woman, Geralt silently stated the obvious inside his head. Her voice was tremulous and surprised to see a gigantuan man standing in the middle of her kitchen which she has never seen before in all her life.

"I am no Necromage," Rohesia calmly informed him, her heed turning distant from the mention, "She...has already died. Cristabell, My lady of the rarest in Bethleheigm---the only necromancer in this kingdom. May her soul rest in peace,"

"---You're the witcher." she paused, taking a gander and examining the white wolf before her. White hair falling on the tips of his shoulder blades. Gold eyes. A scowl prominent on his face. This was the witcher she has been warned about from both parties.

Geralt attempted a cynical smile, seeing that she held more lies and have been doing so for a lifetime, "There's no use of lying."

She was feeble. As old as Eanraig in terms of physical appearance but not his actual age since he was a scholar of the forest. The witcher held onto his medallion, seeming to feel no vibrations over his necklace that he strongly felt before the doors have been opened. His white and black spotted eyebrows furrowed for what singularity was happening.

This was supposed to be the Necromage. Yet, why does she felt human who had no magic to offer?

The hoary, old woman was not lying after all.

Rohesia forced to give him a small smile, walking past him to sit on one of the wooden, dining chairs. Gesturing her palm outwards for Geralt to take a seat that he simply answered with silence as he stood rooted on his spot, assessing what she truly was.

"I offer you no lies of secrecy. My mouth speaks nothing but the truth for I am just a mortal who thrives to live peacefully in the continent," she honestly answered his curiosity and judgements which made him nod at her uprightness---making his job easier for him.

The woman really was no necromage at all.

"A mortal who stands for her virtues. Hmm."

"Why are you here, Witcher?"

His glower was permanent even as he sauntered to where she was, standing upright and leaning a hand on the top portion of her dining chairs whilst he patiently explained.

"To find the hag who has cursed prince Althalos of Kaedwen."

Rohesia only offered a small, genuine smile. Her shaky laugh erupting through her chest because she knew this was the man who her former witcher and lover give fair warning to when the Kaedweni started their murdering plots upon fellow weccans who fall for their crimes. Vesemir never wanted to be involved with their delinquencies, explains his periodic leave in the kingdom---his constant visits for the woman seldomly occurring since Nilfgaard has attacked and conquered another domain after Cintra.

"Are you doing this because Vesemir has told you so?"

Geralt went on with his speechless talk, low humming followed suit for the flabbergast he felt over hearing his senior mentor in the art of their kind. The end of his lips subtly turning the opposite of a lour, relieved to suddenly hear his name through another person's mouth---a woman he probably had a relationship with; a former flame and mortal that Geralt least expect for Vesemir to entertain because of the conducts he had told him prior into becoming one skilled witcher.

It is that being involved with mortals and even having a soft spot in the job won't make them any better.

"Does he visit often?"

She ignored his question with a simple, wholehearted feeble laugh. Her circumvent obvious that Rohesia wanted not to talk about Vesemir after he has chosen to leave her for coins and another woman---another mortal years ago, thinking that because she aged badly was one of the reasons why he chose something better than to be with her. Hence, they were even known to be monsters of their own kind. Monsters who slay other beasts in exchange for coins. It was what she believed them to be---yet, she knew to herself that if Vesemir would come back to her, she would still accept him with all her mortal heart.

She dryly coughed, avoiding his eyes and covering her mouth with a tightened fist that Geralt quickly knew she was physically sick just by the looks of it.

"If you...still want to live and take your coin, turn back around and forget that you have stumbled upon this place forever."

The latter shook his head. Determined to find answers from this elderly human who knew his mentor and a fatherly figure he had been to his life. He believed Rohesia knew more than just Vesemir based on how she was trying to push him away.

"Where's the hag?"

"You cannot find the witch anywhere even out in Kaedwen, Geralt."

He was impressed. Geralt raised both of his eyebrows, pursing his lips with a tilt of his head that she knew his name regardless of not introducing himself yet.

"Vesemir has obviously told you more about me,"

She ignored his statement again, grabbing onto the ends of her dirty Tunic as she stood, saying her words firmly and with finality. Never knowing if her decision over dropping out hints would be good for her isolation from everyone---isolation and somehow imprisoned inside a house. The necromage being her sentinel, a guard given orders that she wouldn't escape and try to spill secrets that will ruin such plans. Howbeit, she still had high respects for Cristabell who had been too kind for her that she has brought Rohesia with her whenever she was out for some business.

"The witch you have been finding has been around the castle for decades."

Perhaps, it was time for the truth to set out free because Rohesia knew she had only weeks to live in the continent. Revenge pushing her through the decision she wanted for trying to keep her contained, watching her every move; ruining more of her wrecked life.

"I have been the queen's loyal servant. After she has given birth to Prince Althalos, he has already been cursed when he was a bairn." Pause. "---Sorceress Ingrith has managed to sneak into their quarters and cast the curse by whispering such spell and gaining a tiny drop of his blood. I've all seen her cantrips and heard them as I came back to guard the prince in his sleep. The wail of an offspring shall bring despair for the royal family,"

The sorceress' name felt like a crime to be told. Heaviness in her chest finally unleashing after decades of being caught up with the lies she was telling people who asked or went to gather information as to who has cursed the prince; finding the witch and ending up dying from the hands of her womanly guard. Cristabell recently died from the hands of the last witcher who she knew as Gerd, the necromage dying after their battle whilst she tried to fight for her cousin's trangression---continuing doing so for the sake of her selfish reasons.

"---She...she was also the king's mistress before the queen has given birth to Prince Althalos while she also gained her position. I may never know if it was made from jealousy over the queen's position. Though, it is their life that I promised to stay away from. Only sorceress Ingrith may reverse the curse or happen to know how,"

A beat of silence wrapped them both after Rohesia's candor. Geralt's mouth forming a deeper scowl than ever as he loudly sighed, languidly blinking in weary for being tricked by the sorceress and her right hand, Tybalt of Touissant. His jaw began to clench for who stood outside of the house, the higher vampire making him mad for leading him on circles---the cycle wouldn't have ended if he chose to go forth with his suggested path. It was why he was trying to lead him towards a swamp filled with monsters than the shorter route because the truth was with this rumored woman.

"Should've known."

He deeply grumbled begrudgingly, blaming himself for not thinking it through. His time wasted for you to be saved and taken out of the palace. If only he wasn't as pale as Ivory, his face would've been empurpled with fury for what they've made him appear to be---an idiot or for whatever bullshit they can call him.

"You're coming with me..." Geralt deeply said before he was cut off to her introduction of name.

"The name's Rohesia, Witcher."

He nodded back to the lady, going on with his ceased sentence with solicit, "---Back to the castle,"

Rohesia saw him walk closer to her, face to face with the infamous butcher she has heard tales about. The butcher of Blaviken who has managed to slaughter goons of Princess Renfri's hooligans and also earning another moniker of being a butcher of Ard Carraigh. Kaedwen's capital. The name would eventually spread throughout his kind because of how Kaer Morhen was close by. Her eyes catching onto the badge latched on the rain-guard of his sword.

"I have been told to never step foot again or I shall be put into death,"

"Do I need to beg for your compliance and offer protection?"

"What's in it for you and me?"

The witcher deeply sighed, shifting his amber away from her as Geralt looked withdrawn, his next words sounding like a mumble, dubious of his own bluntness. Disbelieving that he could hear his own voice say the words like an echo of his consciousness.

"You get to save the castle from anguish," pause. "---and you get to save the life of someone dear to me,"

"A woman I assume---your woman," Rohesia sounded so surprised, staring him down in incredulity, "---Is she royal? another sorceress too? a mutant?"

"A mere...mortal," he hesitated to honestly say, his eyes filled with a memory he truly can't forget. Your skeptical voice stuck inside his head when he remembered the first time he met you till the moment you told him how you suited to be a queen.

Geralt clearly remembered his reaction and teasing reply. Telling you how you suited more to be called a midget. His midget. Yet, now you were being treated like his queen where he would kiss the ground you walk on no matter how in denial he gets.

"---Perhaps...a queen to her kingdom in her rightful dimension," he was caught in his train of thoughts, never seeing the stupefaction in Rohesia's eyes over what dimension he meant---having no clue for his words. She could see what Vesemir once was like until life has ruined everything for her, including the sorceress corrupting and controlling the people and castle of Kaedwen.

"Learning to love doesn't suit your kind, Witcher."

"It's because it isn't what you think it is."

Rohesia shook her head for his lies, he was thoroughly unaware of the feelings sipping through his words once he mentioned you. This witcher believed that he wasn't capable to love nor emit feelings just like how her previous lover have been. A typical characteristic of his own kind. Denial and the feeling of being unworthy of recognizing such emotion was making him sound insensitive. But, people who could read others can see through him regardless of how he tries not to, "Deny it all you want. To us humans, it is. Love as many people assume."

"---you're still human after all. As far as I believe for your kind, Geralt of Rivia. Sorceress Ingrith might be glad to see me again soon---I hope."

Don’t hesitate to message me if you don’t want to be included in the taglist anymore, bb’s. I won’t be mad. Thank you.

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @butterpumpkinscotch @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88, @ruthoakenshield, @just-a-sad-donut, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo, @alexwinchester23, @naturalthrone22 @supernaturallover2002, @tellmesomethinggud

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn, @marvelousell, @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex, @fckdeusername, @evansislife @nothinggoesunpunished

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unsafepin · 3 years

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Optical Illusions: A Study of Aesthetics in Activism in Two Accounts

There’s been a particular thing bothering me about social media for a while. I should probably get a cool editing app, write it in a few bullet points and post it on Instagram. You know what I’m talking about, right? The goddamn infographics. If I have to sit through another slideshow explaining to me another military conflict, another societal issue, another existential unfairness on a baby pink background in a cheery font, I might combust. But the cognitive dissonance of aesthetics in activism has been a problem for a while, hasn’t it? So today, I want to examine the effect of focusing on aesthetics over content, or, on the flipside, not considering the optics of your activism enough, and what it does to the consumer of your content by picking apart two local activist-adjacent media projects, Tetraedras and Giljožinios.

Firstly, I want to make my own bias abundantly clear. I am personally acquainted with the teams of both projects, so obviously there will be innate personal bias involved. I highly encourage anyone reading to check both projects out themselves (@t3traedras and @giljozinios on Instagram, as well as Giljožinios’ YouTube channel) and make their own conclusions on the matter. I believe that while my familiarity breeds deeper knowledge of my subjects, it also makes me more vulnerable to assumptions about individuals involved. My insights come from the perspective of an observer, not an expert. Welcome to the circus.

The use of the word “optics” in a metaphorical political sense sprung up in the 1970s to describe the way major political decisions would not necessarily affect an average citizen, but how it would appear to them, e.g. 'U.S. President Barack Obama temporized for weeks, worrying about the optics of waging war in another Arab state after the Iraq fiasco' (Toronto Star, 19th March 2011). However, it’s become increasingly relevant in our age of social media, an age of perceptions over substance, of shortening attention spans and increased barrage of information one has to stomach daily. Social media is the great equalizer - a random person off the street can theoretically hold as much influence as a politician - thus it is becoming increasingly crucial for the average Joe posting on the countless apps owned by Facebook to be as familiar with PR terms as a firm with a six figure salary. Or at least that would be nice, seeing that more and more average Joes are becoming actively involved in politics and education, seeking to influence their newfound audience.

So, let’s see how successful average people with no media or politics degrees are at balancing their image. Both Tetraedras and Giljožinios lean into their 2010’s social media project optics: millennial pink themes, bold names, young teams. But that’s where the similarities end. Tetraedras’ brand is safety. The shades of color on the profile are calming, the illustrations are youthful and playful, their more serious posts are interspersed with more relaxing content (poetry, photoshoots, etc.). Giljožinios is confrontational. The colors electric, posts loud and to the point, they’re what it says on the box - a leftist project - and unapologetic about it. This might help to explain why audiences react as differently as they do to these two, on the surface, similar accounts. Because while you might’ve stumbled on Tetraedras organically while browsing, them having almost two thousand followers, Giljožinios crashed into the educational/political social media scene by being featured on the goddamn national news, that’s how controversial the project is. And obviously I am oversimplifying the issue, Tetraedras slowly built up to posting more opinionated content, while Giljožinios came in guns blazing accusing USA of imperialism, but you’ll have to let me explain. Tetraedras, in its essence, is a welcoming environment. They explain complicated problems in short bullet points with accompanying comforting visuals, their mascot is a inoffensive geometrical figure and their face is a beautiful girl, make-up matching the theme of the post. Giljožinios is named after a revolutionary device, their profile picture is a monarch being beheaded, their host quite infamously sat in front of Che Guevara memorabilia in their first and (as of writing) only video. It’s a lightning rod for angry comments by baby boomers, no matter what comes out of their mouth. In fact, I would argue that, if presented accordingly, the idea that the US is conducting a kind of modern imperialism is just a simple fact and personally can’t wait until Tetraedras posts that with a quirky illustration of Joe Biden to introduce the concept to the wider public.

This leads me to my next point, because despite what’s been previously suggested, I’m not here to solely sing Giljožinios’ praise. There is a cognitive dissonance in both of these flavors of social media activism, but while I can understand Tetraedras’ on a PR level, I’m kind of personally insulted by Giljožinios’. While purely personally I find aspects of Giljožinios’ radicalism distasteful, I appreciate the honesty in the youthful maximalism, of coming in strong and not backing down, but from the guys that made a communist Christmas tree once I almost expected something more stirring than “military industrial complex bad”. This leads me to ask: who is your content for? Your average breadtube-savvy twenty-something already heard this a thousand times, because they consume similar english-speaking content and I doubt any minds of the vatniks that came by to fume in the comment section are being changed. I’m obviously harking on a newborn project here, the team of which has already been bitten by authorities censoring their content, but so far there has been a lot of optical bark, but no substantial bite, especially considering the team seems to be in a safer place now. And the inverse is true for Tetraedras, while I can understand wanting to be visually interesting yet inoffensive, their visuals are sometimes laughably, morbidly light for the topics they discuss Sexily posing in Britney Spears-inspired outfits while discussing the horrors of her conservatorship springs to mind (funny how Britney’s conservatorship leads her to have next to none bodily autonomy, including her public costume choices). And, once again, your target audience is teenagers. They understand English, they’ve seen the news, they don’t need you to translate infographics filled with statistics and information that’s locally completely irrelevant. There needs to be some kind of middle ground between aesthetic cohesion and common sense, because this all signals to the viewer that the content is meant to be mindlessly consumed first and to educate second.

Which leads me to ponder what kind of consumption accounts like these encourage, which will surely lead me to an early grave as I drink away the existential dread of how social media rots all of our brains. Because yes, actually, producing funky visuals to convey an idea way too complicated for an Instagram post is fun. I myself got distracted multiple times during writing to make the first slide for my own post. Meta, I know. This is obviously more of a problem for Tetraedras, who seem to fervently resist injecting their content with a few more paragraphs and a tad more nuance, but even with Giljožinios choosing a more appropriate long-form format to educate, I still pray everyday they don’t get lost in the revolutionary reputation their group built up and forget to make a point, not just talking points.

Because what all this all inevitably leads to is misinforming the public. Again, this seems to be less of a problem for Giljožinios, as the amount of critical eyeballs they have on them leads to them being corrected on every incorrect numerical figure and grammatical mistake, I just hope all this harassment, once again, doesn’t get them all caught up in the optics of a revolution against all the Facebook boomers and forgetting to do their due diligence to the truth. As far as I know, the only factual mistake is miscalculating how much Lituania invests in NATO and there’s still a historical debate in their comment section about the existence of a CIA prison in Lithuania, if anyone’s concerned. Tetraedras, however, is safe. And safe content goes down just like a sugar-coated pill, you don’t even feel the need to fact-check it. And fact-checking is what it sorely requires, or else you’re left with implying that boxing causes men to become rapists and citing statistics of every country except the one in which, you know, me, the team and the absolute majority of their followers live in.

So what’s my goddamn point? Burn your phone and go live in the woods, always. But in the context of this essay, if you are a content creator that aims to educate, inform, incite, whatever, you need to put aesthetics on the backburner. And, more importantly, we as consumers need to stop tolerating content that puts being either pretty or inflammatory first instead of whatever message it’s trying to send, because the supply follows where the demand goes. Read books, watch long-form content made by experts, not teenagers on the internet chasing followers out of not even malicious intent, but almost a knee-jerk reaction. Because while the story of those two accounts cuts especially deep, expectations for local-, even friend-made content being much higher than that for some corporate accounts shooting their shot at activism, the problem is entrenched deep, thousands of accounts exhibiting the same problems racking up millions upon millions of followers. Having said that, my attention span is barely long enough to read the essays I write myself, so maybe do burn your phone and go live in the woods.

Also, pink is actually my brand so both of these accounts are being contacted by my lawyers and the rest of you don’t try any shit.

#unsafe pin

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pavys-originals · 3 years

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The Stranger At The Festival

Title by the wonderful @ellieisdreaming !

Alaana Rohikshuul x Coruscanti!Reader

Genre: Fluff mostly, very brief mention of angst/aggression.

Warnings: Very brief aggressive behaviour against the reader. (It is non-violent but still aggressive.)

Summary:The reader has come to experience the festival of the new year on Tmryn for themselves, because despite the world being at the very edge of the outer rim, the festivals are supposedly worth the trip out there.

Words: 4.1K

Notes: - I know that people don’t usually read ocs x reader, but I just want to say I worked really hard on this, so any and all notes are really appreciated! - Improper/Grammatically incoherent English/Basic may be used when certain characters are speaking. This is not a mistake. Not all characters are native English/Basic speakers, and so have learnt it as a second language. It is not making fun of anyone, nor is it a mistake. It is just there to add depth and realism to the characters who speak in that manner. It was not written to offend anyone, and I apologise if it does.

Not my gif

To say that you had been anxious to make such a long and supposedly grueling trip to the edges of the Outer Rim would have been a little bit of an understatement. The trip was longer than most, further than Tatooine by quite some length- both in time and distance. This was merely one of the things that gave you concern. You had never flown too far into the Outer Rim, you quite liked the feeling of being so close to your home. Being separated from a place where you had such fond memories made you feel a tad uneasy. You had been assured and reassured by many of your friends and close companions that the journey would be more than worth it- Obi-Wan and Anakin had said that the sights of Tmrynish festivals were a true scene to behold- “It was like a vision from some sort of deity”, Anakin had recalled- and Padme had not stopped talking of how beautiful the views of the holds and city dwellings from the mountain ledges could be in the twilight.

So, here you were now, sitting eagerly on the edge of the plush seat of the ship- that classic shine of Nubian metal reflecting the brilliant glow of the Tmrynish sun from it’s position in the dark void of empty space off in the distance. Out of the window, the view of the terrain below astounded you- brilliant hues of greens and earthy browns of the enormous and fabled forests, marvelous rich blues and teals from the rivers and seas that held numerous forms of life, and even the dotted white of snow-capped mountains,which helped to shield the holds at their feet from most directions, from either attack, invasion, or natural evils that plagued all worlds.

You eventually settled back into your seat when you started to land- though the crew seemed a little nervous. The captain had promised you they had made the trip many times, but that didn’t hide the glint of fear in the crew’s eyes. But fear of what? Landing incorrectly? No, that couldn’t be it.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts and theories that you hardly felt the craft land on the hard stone of the landing pad. You- and your few fellow passengers- began to rise out of your seats, hastily grabbing your belongings one by one. You had been advised not to take too many devices that would need regular recharging, as only those with enough money or status could afford the technology like that in their homes. Workplaces had them, sure, but it was highly unlikely that they would let outsiders use their equipment. Keeping this advice in your mind, you had firmly settled on travelling lightly- a few garments to last you the week, the odd bit of necessary technology that didn't need to recharge over short bursts of time.

So, when you first set foot on the dampened earth of Tmryn, you allowed yourself a minute to take in the scenery that surrounded you.

The almost makeshift landing pad was surrounded by trees- tall, towering life forms that overshadowed all besides the mountain off in the distance. They towered so high that you could hardly see their tops in the warm sunlight that just managed to reach the ground. They had thick trunks, and needle-like leaves that rattled quietly in the gently breeze that washed through them. A few of the needles fell and bounced about your feet, but they were soon lost in the green moss-like grass beneath your boots. It was as if they no longer mattered in the greater scheme of the planet, they were no longer a part of it's plan.

The visions that had been painted in your mind's eye by others who had visited the Tmryn system did the place a great disservice, nothing they had described could ever truly compare to the terrain that threatened to overwhelm you. You didn't allow it to, however, taking in each piece carefully as your eye glided over it's surface.

Snapping out of your nature-induced trance, you came to realise that the other passengers of the spacecraft had started to leave you behind. You briskly gathered your things, you didn’t want to lose the few semi-familiar faces you had.

There were no conversations shared between the passengers of the ship during the walk to the largest hold of Tmryn, where the majority of the celebrations took place. The other holds and settlements of course had much smaller celebrations of their own, but the large hold of Doverah- named after the wiseman of the Old Triumvirate and the hold’s founder-stroke-patron- was the one that drew in all the tourists, and even other inhabitants of the system. It was full of life of all kinds, varying species and dialects, and even slight variations in tradition, depending on households and other influences.

It seemed peaceful and harmonious, a settlement that clearly all those who took up resident within adored. Children played happily in the streets, dodging quickly in and out of their parent’s legs, nimbly evading capture from their friends. Clearly the excitement of what was to come that evening had already set in, making the various children more hyper than they normally would have been. Their parents chittered and chattered with one another, keeping an eye on their young but letting them play as they pleased, not yet wishing to rob them of the magic childhood had over their lives. At least, this is how they acted from a distance.

It seemed that the stares- innocent and appreciative as they may have been- from yourself and fellow first-time passengers made the Tmrynish residents a little uneasy. Whether it was the fact there was constantly at least one set of eyes watching them as the group passed, or whether it was the fact that the group were largely unaware and unfamiliar with the etiquette of Tmrynish cities and holds and thus completely alien to them, it was hard to say. But as the group kept moving, occasionally getting close to some residents, they pulled children close if they had any near and about to run into the path of the tourist group. If they did not have any children near, they would just back up a step or two, averting their gaze and folding their arms over their chest. A few of the more burly looking citizens gave the tourists a harsh glare, however none of the pack seemed to notice or acknowledge this.

Eventually the group had to trek up the side of a mountain that was the back drop no matter where you stood in Doverah. It towered over everything, and was in fact the tallest mountain on all of Tmryn. It was no wonder that this place, so high and close to the heavens above, had become the main hub of religious sects in the system. It was custom that any and all offworlders pay respects at the temple of Doverah, to show they bore no ill will to the residents. It was with this custom in mind that the group moved, and thankfully there were no harsh winds to hinder them on their journey when exposed at such high altitudes. The stone steps were uneven and steep, and a little nerve-wracking given the fact there was nothing protecting those from the sheer and rocky drop next to them. No one seemed to want to focus on that fact though, instead starting to notice the rather ornate carvings starting to appear in the side of the rocky path.

The frieze ran up alongside the stairs, curving upwards slowly with the slope.They depicted an army of figures, all in rows, armoured and armed, locked in some sort of battle. Some held spears, others were atop feline steeds, and as they reached the top of the winding stairs there were arching firing their bows at whatever enemies were at the start of the frieze- none of you could remember in your slightly enamoured state, and at the very very end there were a collection of nine figures, each distinct in their attire and stance. The entirety of the group slowed to admire this little segment of the sculpture, clearly depicting the divine beings that the Tmrynish paid respect to and worshiped.

You were all distracted, however, when an old woman came forth from the temple, a huge smile on her face. She seemed to be the very height of friendliness when compared to the other residents of Tmryn. “Drema-Lok, offworlders!” She greeted cheerily, and though her voice did croak with the wisdom of her years, it still sounded very welcoming. She did a quick head count, and nodded in satisfaction. “I am very pleased that you all managed to find your way without any trouble..” She chuckled lightly. She leant heavily on an oaken looking staff- it was thick, and ornately carved, with similar symbols that had been scattered along the frieze. “Oftentimes a few will get mixed in unfavourable scenarios...” She seemed to be rather amused by it, still smiling softly as she slowly turned on her heel, gesturing for your group to follow along behind her. They slowly did, your fellow tourists sharing odd looks between themselves.

There were a few more steps up into the large, gilded archway that led into the temple, and the old woman seemed to conquer them with relative ease, she probably climbed these, and the other stairs on the mountain, regularly. It was slightly odd to see though, a woman clearly so on in her years moving quickly as if she weren’t a day over thirty. Though she hobbled, and walked with the aid of her staff, she was just as fast as any of your companions.

The detailed frieze and golden archway seemed to only be the beginning of the pure extravagance that had been poured into and over the interior of the temple. The floor was mosaic, and a flurry of golds, blues, silvers and whites. It was painful trying to think how long it must have taken to place each one of those squares. There was no particular image per se, from what you could see- instead it was a sea of different swirls, all amassing in the centre, and the mixture of colours seemed to depict the image of the skies above in the depth of night.It was truly beautiful. The others seemed to notice the beauty of the piece too, and as they were about to snap photos, a reptilian looking deacon or priest addressed the crowd; “Please, refrain from capturing the Divines and their images... Not here, good friends. Tell tales of what you see, yes yes, but let others come and see for themselves what the inspiration of higher powers can achieve... It is only just.” He spoke, each instance of sibilance drawn out a little longer than how most would speak- though the cause of that seemed to be the elongated and razor sharp teeth settled neatly in the reptilian's gums.

With his words, those who had taken out camera devices put them away once more, as requested. The old woman, still at the head of the group, nodded softly at him. “Kogaan, Naxxus.” She smiled at him gratefully, before gesturing to the veiled Naxxus, who returned the gesture. “Naxxus is our highest ranking seer in Doverah... If he gives you advice, you would be wise to heed it...” She told your group, and there were gentle murmurs of acknowledgement from around you. Naxxus nodded again in farewell to you and your group, before moving off to speak with other smaller groups scattered around the large hall you were all stood in, the tough claws from his feet clacking quietly on the tiled floor.

“Now, off-worlders, come this way!” The old woman gestured for the group to follow her again. “Whilst I would be glad to let you roam this great hall and pay homage to our Divine providers, we believe it that you should wear the proper attire first and foremost.” She informed, leading you all down a hallway, lit by bright and golden sconces spaced out evenly along the walls. “Not that the majority of your clothing is not practical nor respectful... It is merely not what we wear during times of religious festivities.” She explained, it seemed reasonable enough. She lead you into a sort of common room, just out of sight to where an average citizen would go when visiting the temple- unless they had requested to look at a scroll from the holy archives.

The common room wasn’t empty, there were a few priests and priestesses, all helping one another with their regalia. They all looked magnificent. Robes were gilded at the hems, silver and gold threads intertwining to frame sapphire blue material that seemed to have a texture somewhere between velvet and silk. Whatever it was felt extremely soft to the touch, and incredibly expensive. How could you tell this? Because you were handed similar looking robes by the kindly old woman. The group all changed fairly quickly, with only slight struggle with wrapping the sash round the waist and over the shoulders.

There was a soft grunt and mutter from behind you. You turned slightly, still holding the robes against your body as you tried to place faith that your wrappings wouldn’t fall. Standing behind you was a tall, brawny looking feline male. His body was covered head to paw in short, grey fur, which lightened to a gentle snow white around his palms and muzzle. His muscular arms were crossed over his equally toned chest- you could tell he was well built even through his fuzz. His ears- both long and placed either side of his head, had arched downward slightly as he snarled, bearing his sharp, lengthy canines at you. “Off-worlders should not be allowed to wear garments of such fine cloth,” He hissed, starting to attract more attention. “It is blasphemous... And you..” He pointed a large finger towards you in particular. “You disgrace the clothes of the Divine providers most of all. You cannot even trust it not to be wound too loose!” He exclaimed, and at this outburst, one of the priestesses came to investigate.

“Parthas,” Her voice seemed to be the embodiment of calm, the direct juxtaposition of Parthas’ tone. She moved how she spoke too, smoothly and calmly. Her presence seemed to soothe the entire room, even the roaring fire seemed to settle somewhat. “Friend, what is the matter? The offworlders are doing nothing out of the ordinary..” She gestured to your group, and you caught a glimpse of her face.

The first thing that caught your attention was her eyes. They were a deep brown- a brown like the earth that was beneath your feet when you stepped outside, the provider for all of life on the planet you were visiting. Despite their dark pigmentation, they were full of life. Vibrant, sparkling life. On top of those eyes were mounted sleek, arched eyebrows. They were not arched in a way that made her threatening to look at, but rather it was a gentle, inviting, soft arch. To frame her tanned, heart shaped face there were long, flowing locks of deep, almost raven black hair. Almost. The fire from beside you revealed it to be a very deep brown. Her posture, straight and confident, and exuded the same calm her voice did. Clearly, she was a professional in whatever occupation she found herself in.

She wore similar robes to everyone else in the room, however there were a few more bits of embroidery along the sash, and her antler headdress was much more extravagant- covered with little jewels and small feathers. Clearly her more expensive and lush clothes were a sign of her position and the amount of respect that she had earned both inside and outside of the temple. The headdress seemed rather weighty, but she seemed to be very used to it, she was perfectly balanced.

A huff from Parthas drew you from your trance-like state.”They know nothing of what the cloth signifies, they are desecrating-” “Do you know what it means?” The woman quickly retorted. “What?” Parthas’ snout crinkled to his show his confusion at her question. “Do you know the significance of the cloth?” She repeated, slower, and the feline man started to stumble over half-formed words. It was very clear that he did not. He shuffled his paw-like feet, still unable to find any words to answer her, and unable to turn his face away from her piercing green eyes. “Precisely, friend. Do not criticise those who suffer from a similar ailment to you. It is hypocrisy, is it not?” She chuckled quietly.

“Uh, yes, lady priestess... My deepest apologies...” He gave a gentle bow, and the woman gestured to you. “I think this here off-worlder is more in need of your apologies than I am, friend.” She placed a hand softly on your shoulder as she spoke. Parthas looked at you, almost grudgingly. “My... Apologies, off-worlder.” He reluctantly spoke, almost grimacing at his own words. The priestess nodded in a cue to leave, and he quickly did as you turned to face the woman, who was offering you a kind smile. “My apologies for the behaviour of some of our guards... Some of them have been brought in from other holds and settlements- rules and regulations differ ever so slightly. They’ll come around eventually, we believe. Anyway,” She paused with a chuckle, “He didn’t say anything too rash to you, did he?” She asked, seeming genuinely concerned whether you had been offended or not- and to reply you shook your head. “No, I suppose he didn’t...” You trailed off for a moment, your brows furrowing slightly in thought. “I’m sorry- and I don’t mean for this to be rude in any way- but why do you care so much about a tourist? I’ve not experienced something like that on any other planetary system... And, may I ask, why did he listen to you?”

“Ah, many questions, you off-worlders can be most curious,” She chuckled gently. She didn’t seem to phased by your questions though. “I suppose to begin with your first question, I stepped in because I feel that all people should be given a base level of respect, until they prove themselves to deserve more or less than that amount respect. Parthas... Was not giving that respect, I feel. As for his argument of you desecrating the sacred robes, I think he is slightly misguided on his line of thought, as you are not wearing the robe in a way to mock our culture- you are actively participating in our festivities at our invitation. There are certain restrictions of course, since you were not born here, but if you cannot take part, you most certainly can watch and support.” She nodded gently as she spoke, and you started to nod with her, she seemed to make sense. “And as for him listening to me, I am an honorary high priestess of the temple.” She told you with a smile, and you mirror her smile. “Honorary?” You echoed, “Why only honorary?” “Because I have a primary occupation- but my family is respected enough for the temple to still grant me an honorary position here, since I cannot permanently fill the position I was meant to take because of my current place in the galaxy.” She told you. For a moment, you can’t think of what to say. It was a rather long-winded explanation, and you can only just about wrap your head around it. “Oh?” Is all you can think to reply with. She chuckled gently at you. “I am a Jedi,” She explains, “Therefore, only an honourary Priestess.” This, more simple explanation, helps you understand a little more. You nod, falling silent for a minute.

After a few more minutes, she broke the almost awkward silence between the two of you. “I think that it’s time we get on the move,” She said to you, gesturing to the other members of the group you had journeyed here with. You nodded in agreement, moving back to the wide hallway, hanging towards the back of the group, so as to keep speaking with your new guide. “So, would it be alright if I asked your name?” You ask politely.

“Of course.” She replied, just as politely. “My name is Alaana Rohiikshuul.” She told you. “And may I ask you yours?” She looked at you with a slight til of her head. “ (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).” You respond, with a slight nod of your head, trying to think of what to say next. You clear your throat before speaking, “I don’t mean to seem rude, or ignorant, but what festival are we attending? We weren’t told all that much before coming here, besides it being the new year?” You asked, prompting her slightly.

“Ah, yes. It seems that people in the Inner Rim have stopped trying to explain what our festivals and rites are like or are for.” She mused gently. “Like the Inner Rim with their parties, fireworks and the like, we too celebrate the coming of the new year- albeit in a way some may deem more ‘primitive’. The festival not only celebrates another year passing, but honours the Divine that the Tmrynish believe watches over the very concept of time itself; Don-Zeh. We call it the Donzic Rites.” She fills you in quite gladly on everything. “There’s a lot going on throughout the night, so don’t be afraid of missing something. Besides, not even the Tmrynish always take part in everything.” She chuckled softly, and you smile along with her. Her company was calming, and soothed your anxieties of being in such a different setting to what you were used to.

You were about to ask another question about what precisely the evening would entail, but you were quickly distracted by the distant sound of music fast approaching as you made your way down the mountain with the tourist group and your newfound friend. Almost as soon as you all reached the streets, you were split up from one another, whisked away into the dusk with singing and dancing, feasting and drinking. Whilst on paper, the generic ideas of the activities would have ordinarily taken place on Coruscant too- but the Tmrynish seemed to put their own little cultural twist on everything, it was colourful, and indescribable. You realised now why Anakin had some difficulty trying to convey everything to you.There was simply too much to try and get through. The lights, the colours, the sounds, the food- everything. It all amassed in this beautiful, divine and it was just an atmosphere you couldn’t replicate anywhere else, even if you poured your heart and soul into it all.

At some point during the evening, you found yourself sitting upon a felled log just outside the city walls, where the celebrations had spilled out to as the night had continued. You were staring up at the ink black space above, identifying a few of the planets here and there- though they were much smaller than you were used to. Whilst distracted, you didn’t notice a figure sit beside you, taking off their headdress. “Had enough for the evening?” She asked, and when you turned your head you realised it was Alaana, her voice immediately making you smile. You chuckled softly; “I am a little worn out...” You admit, and she nodded gently in understanding, she seemed to be in the same state at the moment. “Was it the dancing?” She asked, an amused tone to her voice. You sheepishly nod. “Not to worry, (Y/N), even the Tmrynish get worn out from their own dances... It means you’ve danced well.” She told you. It seemed reasonable enough.

Barely even noticing your own movements in your drowsy state, you rest yourself slightly against Alaana’s side. She doesn’t move in protest, just smiles up at the sky, the stars and planets reflecting in those deep, chocolate brown orbs. “Thank you, for earlier today...” Your soft, and almost sleep-filled voice fills the silence between you both. “You don’t need to thank me.” She replied, quite bluntly- she really felt that you didn’t need to thank her for what she had done, she was just doing what she believed was right. You nod softly against her shoulder as your eyes grow heavy. Unable to stop yourself, you drift off into a deep, and restful sleep, Alaana letting you rest against her for the rest of the night.

#oc x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars oc x reader #oc x reader oneshot #coruscanti reader #original character #original character x reader #original world #star wars original character #x reader oneshot #star wars prequels #x reader requests #requests open #please request #please don't let this flop #rohiikshuul twins

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ravenforce · 5 years

Text

Missing Link Pt. 3: Complicated

Summary: This chapter is a look at your relationship with the Mikaelsons especially Rebekah.

Pairing/s: Rebekah Mikaelson x Reader, Salvatore Brothers x Reader, Mikaelsons x Reader

Word Count: 2955

Warning/s: Explicit content.

A/N: Ok lovely people, it’s my first time writing smut please be gentle. I write angst, smut I’m not really good at it probably. All grammatical mistakes are mine, sorry. Let me know what you think. xx

If you haven’t read the previous parts they’re here: Part 1 | Part 2

“Katherine knew?” Damon asked, clearly frustrated.

“I knew too, obviously,” Rebekah said while leaning in against Stefan seductively, without regards for Lexi, Stefan’s girlfriend, being on the same table. Stefan groaned.

“And you didn’t tell me,” Stefan said through his gritted teeth. Rebekah just grinned at his display of anger.

And Rebekah blatantly flirting with him makes your blood boil. She is naturally flirty though. She knows she’s beautiful and she’s not afraid to use it on her advantage. You’ve watched her through millennia, sat across the room while she dances with helpless souls before she feeds on them. You’ve watched her care for some of them from time to time but watching her this way with your brother makes you regret coming here with them.

“Well,” Rebekah spoke merrily.

“Countless nights hunting together, numerous days sleeping on the same bed,” Stefan said until he’s interrupted of your glass shattering in your own hands. All eyes turned to you, Klaus smirking from his wine glass.

“I’m going home,” you said before you abruptly stood from the table, ignoring the blood in your hand.

Stefan tried to reach out, Klaus warned him not to do it. When you felt your brother’s hand on your wrist, you turned around and held him by the throat and lifted him up a few inches off the ground.

“Unhand me,” you said with a deathly calm voice and deadly glare. Damon tried to rip you away from Stefan but you’re much stronger than both of them combined. You’re made and trained by an original vampire after all.

“Okay, that’s enough. Let your brother down (Y/N),” you heard Elijah said through the haze of your anger. You dropped Stefan like he weighs nothing. Klaus stood from the table and left a few notes before he looks at you.

“Come on little one, let’s go home,” Klaus said before every Mikaelson followed you out of Mystic Grill.

When you got out of the pub, the fresh summer air kissing your face you felt like you’re breathing again. Klaus has his arm slung around your shoulder as you allow him to steer you to the direction of their estate.

“I haven’t seen you this jealous since London 1990,” Klaus teased you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Not jealous,” you whispered.

“And we’re not immortals, dear sister,” Kol who caught up with you suddenly said. You glared at him while Klaus laughed harder.

****

When you arrived at the Mikaelson estate, you playfully shoved Kol and raced Klaus to the bar at the living room. You were pouring yourself your fourth glass of scotch when they arrived at the living room. When Rebekah walked around Klaus to stand behind you, you nearly knocked Kol as you super speed away from her.

“I’m going to bed,” you said without looking back. Rebekah frowned.

“Tsk, tsk, you wound her sister,” Kol teased.

“What did I do?” She asked Klaus just in time as Elijah sat behind her.

“I think you know exactly what you did,” Elijah said as he pours himself a drink.

When Rebekah eventually went to retire to her bedroom, she expected you to be there. Both of you had an affinity of sleeping in the same room since you were turned. So when she found her room empty, she was more than disappointed.

After a few minutes of deliberation, she walked back out and tiptoed to your room on the other end of the hall. She crept inside, only to find your bed empty too. A moment of panic washed over her, not this again. In the past, when you found out her attachment to Stefan it turned into a huge fight, which prompted you to leave.

“What do you want, Bekah?” You asked. She whipped around and found you sitting on the armchair in the dark with your head hanging on the reverse as you look up to the ceiling. She heaved a sigh of relief.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” She asked.

“What do you care?” You said without a trace of emotion.

Rebekah bristled, sometimes you do take on from Klaus a lot. Understandably, as your maker, you did learn a lot from him; unfortunately it includes behavior too. Rebekah walked towards you, shedding her heels along the way. You didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling until she’s straddling your lap. She wrapped one hand on your jaw to make you look at her, while the other is pressed against your chest. It’s so reminiscent of the time you came home after a year of gallivanting God knows where.

***

“Welcome home sister,” Elijah said after a night of drinking in celebration of your return. They are genuinely happy to have you back, except you think, Rebekah. If one can die from the amount of glaring, you would have been dead the moment you walked inside the house. You expected her to be mad at you though, you left her and for a year at that.

You just sat on your reading chair when the door of your room nearly come off its hinges by the way Rebekah barreled through it. You didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling, you expected her to confront you the moment she gets you alone.

“Where have you been?” She asked angrily.

“What do you care, Bekah?” You answered calmly.

If you’re sure of anything about her it is this, she’s impatient. She super speeds to you and straddled your lap. She cupped your face roughly to make you look at her.

“It’s been a year, and you still wouldn’t look at me,” she said softly. Now, this looks like the Rebekah you know in private. She’s hyper-aware of how you’re gripping the arm of the chair to prevent yourself from pulling her closer to you.

“I’m tired Bekah. If you have anything to say, please say it and leave,” you said coldly. Looking into your eyes a year after, she can see clearly that sleeping with your brother hurts you tremendously.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N/N),” she whispered against your lips.

You closed your eyes, the truth is you’re not mad anymore. You spent a whole year processing your anger, jealousy, and the realization that you’re in love with a woman who might still be in love with your brother. You spent a whole year bedding as many humans as possible to process the fact that you miss her, that you want her.

“I miss you,” she whispered against your ear before you felt her planting a kiss behind it.

She’s eradicating the invisible line between the two of you as she kisses down along your jaw. You and Rebekah had a very confusing relationship. With Elijah, Klaus, and Kol you’re sure your relationship is familial; they’re your chosen brothers but with Rebekah it’s complicated. You’re sure she doesn’t see you as her sister either if the looks and the way she deliberately touches and kisses you is any indication.

“Rebekah,” you moaned as she nipped against your neck. “We can’t,” you tried to reason, to yourself or to her, you simply don’t now know.

She pulled back a little to look at you. “Why? We’re not blood-related,” she said matter-of-factly before she connects her lips to yours. You moaned against her mouth, she has never kissed you on your lips before; always just at the corners of your mouth, your cheeks, your forehead, your hand, sometimes even on your shoulder.

She smiled the moment she felt your hand on her hips and your mouth moving against her. She kissed you passionately as she grinds her hips against yours. A surge of arousal pooled between your legs and she moved her hips against you.

“(Y/N),” she moaned.

***

She looks at you tonight the same way she looked at you the night your first become physical together. The only difference is, she’s not topping you tonight. When she rolled her hips against you one more time, you immediately put your hands on her ass and carried her to your bed. When you dropped her in your bed, her pupils are blown wide with arousal.

You quickly rid her of her skin-tight jeans and panties. You threw the garments on the floor and dragged her on the edge of the bed. You kneeled in front of her and unceremoniously swiped your tongue against her wet cunt. Her eyes rolled at the back of her head as you attached your lips on her clit and sucked it hard; her hands went to your hair pulling you closer.

“(Y/N),” she screamed without a care for her brothers downstairs.

You alternately flick your tongue back and forth and sucking her clit. She’s squirming and grinding her pussy against your face, begging you for more but you’re determined not to penetrate her until she cums in your mouth first. It didn’t take long before she’s literally screaming your name and you felt a gush of wetness against your mouth. You lapped up her juices to guide her through her climax. Before she can truly come down from it though, you removed your mouth against her and quickly inserted two fingers inside her.

“Look at me,” you commanded as you slowly rubbed your fingers inside her. “Look at me or I’ll stop,” you threatened, and quickly opened her eyes and look at you.

“You take your eyes off me, I’ll stop and you won’t get to cum again. Understood?” you said. Seeing your more dominant side is such a turn on for her. She just nodded. You leaned down and kiss her before you continued to pump your fingers in and out of her. She’s struggling so hard to keep her eyes open.

“Faster,” she moaned out. You obliged, after adding a third finger and she groaned at the stretch.

“Harder,” she pleaded. You obliged, you know she has always loved being fucked rough.

“Harder,” she moaned while impressively holding your gaze. You obliged; had you been human you would have given out by the amount of strength and stamina it requires to fuck her. You can literally hear the headboard hit the wall as you pound on her cunt.

“Please, make me cum,” she pleaded. You smirked at her but obliged nonetheless. A few more deep thrusts, fingers hitting the right spot, accompanied by a few hard sucks on her clit was all she needed to tumble over the edge and to oblivion. You gradually decreased your speed before completely pulling out of her.

Her breathing has yet to come back to normal when you lay down next to her. She turned her head to look at you and giggled.

“I just gave you two mind-blowing orgasms and you have the audacity to laugh at me,” you said. Turning her giggles to a full-blown laugh.

“Sorry, you just fuck me so good when you’re jealous,” she said. You rolled your eyes at her.

“Whatever,” you said before turning on your side. She chuckled as she watches your back. She scooted closer, planted a kiss on your shoulder before she spooned you.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” she whispered when she thought you’ve drifted off to sleep.

“You’re the past, the present, and the future (Y/N/N),” she said before she leaned her cheeks against your back and drifted off to sleep. You smiled at that.

***

When you woke up, Rebekah is still cuddled next to you. You extricate yourself from her vice grip and padded downstairs. When you entered the dining hall, Kol is glaring at you.

“What?” You asked as you walk to the fridge to get a glass of blood.

“I think you and Rebekah should move out,” Kol answered.

“And why would we do that?” You asked calmly as you joined your brothers in the dining table.

“Because it’s aggravating how loud she can be when you two have sex,” Kol grimaced. “And all that banging on the wall, I’m surprised it didn’t give out,” he continued.

Klaus laughed while Elijah still looks impassive.

“We don’t do it that often. Besides, did you hear me complain when you binge fuck those women in the 80s?” you defended. Kol threw a piece of bread in your face. Klaus continued cackling.

Kol turned to Elijah for help. “Don’t look at me, she’s right. When Klaus, and I was away they had to endure you all on their own,” Elijah teased, making Klaus laugh harder.

“What’s so funny?” Rebekah asked as she walks in into the dining hall. She walked directly at you and gave you a sweet kiss.

“Kol is complaining about how loud you were last night,” you said.

“But you were,” Kol defended as Rebekah glared at him.

“Like you weren’t, (Y/N) and I had to escape the house every time you come home with another of your conquest back in the 80s,” Rebekah said sat on your lap. Everyone laughed except Kol, who turned beet red in embarrassment.

***

You looked at Rebekah as she laughs freely. Moments like this make you feel thankful for having chosen this family. To the mystic world, the Mikaelsons is this family of super powerful monsters. They’re known to be cunning and ruthless but to you, they’re so much more than that. Others are quick to judge them for the legends they live up to because they don’t see, they don’t experience them the way you do.

Others don’t know them the way you do. Elijah is who he projects himself to be, cool, collected and responsible. To others, he appears impassive and a little mechanical but he’s not, he cares but he’s always level-headed. Klaus is the cool big brother, he lets you run wild and free but he’s always there to catch you when you fall. He would do anything to ensure your little family is always safe and thriving.

Kol was through and through the obnoxious little brother, you never had. He likes to tease you mercilessly but he has always been there to indulge you on trying popular activities in certain eras, like hanging out in a hole in the wall pubs and watching grunge bands that are way too pedestrian for Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah. He enjoys pop culture with you, unlike the three who likes all things classic.

Rebekah and you have always been complicated. When Klaus brought you home, everyone has made you feel like family but you both saw each other as friends than sisters. She was an only girl, so when you came around she was ecstatic to have someone she can do girly things with like shopping and going to the spa. She taught you a lot about using your femininity to your advantage, heck she even taught you how to kiss. From that first kiss, you realized you like her more than just a friend but Rebekah can be hard to spell.

She loves you, of that you’re sure but she never expressed any interest in discussing the nature of your relationship and that had to be enough. You never really concern yourself with whoever Rebekah fancies at the moment, by the end of the day she comes home to you anyway. That’s until she met your brother, Stefan. Hence, seeing them interact recently brings out the worst in you.

“Hey,” Rebekah nudge you. “Where were you?” She asked when she realized your mind is elsewhere.

“Sorry, I’m here,” you said before kissing her chin.

“Gross,” Kol said. “Let’s go eat dinner somewhere else,” he said.

Apparently, they decided to just go out while you were daydreaming. You followed everyone out of the house to the town center to find a place to hang out.

***

For the years you’ve been alive, you’ve been to many places. Majority of your life was spent in New Orleans but you’ve joined the Mikaelsons’ on their travels most of the time. You prefer big cities and Mystic falls is the exact opposite of it; its quaint and subdue. The worst part is, it’s so tiny that the probability of bumping into people you know is at least 90 percent. So you weren’t surprised when you saw your brothers along with Elena and Lexi exiting the only decent bar in town.

You can almost feel the electricity in the air as Stefan looks at you. You were crowding the sidewalk but no one dared to tell you off. Your brothers walked towards you, you see the longing in their eyes and you wish you can tell them you want to fix it but you don’t know how. Before anyone can say anything, someone else spoke behind the Salvatores’.

“Well, isn’t this convenient,” drawled the newcomer. A drawl you can recognize anywhere.

When your brothers turned around, Stefan was pale in his face and frowning. Two exes in town surely can’t be fun for him.

“What are you doing here, Katherine?” He asked, scowl growing deeper by the minute.

You spied Lexi’s hand going on his lower back and his posture instantly relaxed. Katherine just rolled your eyes at your brother before walking past him and directly towards you. She stops only when she’s a foot away from you.

“Why to see my favorite Salvatore, of course,” Katherine said punctuating her sentence with a firm hand on the lapel of your black coat.

You were speechless for a moment, it’s been forever since you last saw her.

“Oh how we’ve come full circle,” Klaus whispered behind Rebekah before heartily laughing and bypassing everyone to go inside the grill; Kol and Elijah hot on his heels. Rebekah fists both her hands to keep herself from ripping off Katherine’s hand from you.

Taglist: @violentmommabear42 @freekryptonitecloud @vampiregirl1797

#the vampire diaries #tvd #imagine #tvd imagine #vampire diaries #salvatore sister #salvatore sister reader #salvatore brothers x salvatore sister #mikaelsons x adopted sister reader #rebekah mikaelson x reader #stefan salvatore #damon salvatore #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #katherine pierce #tvd imagines

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fanfics-of-marvel · 4 years

Text

Winter Adventures

One Shot

Release date: 02/01/2020

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Y/N: Upon your 4th anniversary Steve has prepared a few surprises for you.

Words count: 2.5K

A/N: This fanfic was supposed to be a Christmas one but due to inability to finish it before Christmas I decided to re-write it with a slightly different theme.

Warnings: None!

One Shots | Masterlist

Taglist: @all-things-marvel-related ; @steeeeverogers ; @chipilerendi ; @mrspeacem1nusone ; @starkershomelife ; @itavero-pater (still unable to properly tag this person) ; @merlin-288 ; @nutellakirb ; @livsheph ; @ivvitm1109 ; @misstummelisa ;

I’m not a native English speaker, so there might be spelling or grammatical mistakes.

This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

——————————————————–

You opened your eyes to what seemed to be a lazy winter Sunday. An ordinary day for everybody else, a special day for you.

Exactly 4 years ago a friend of yours who was dating Bucky at the time invited you over on a double date with his best friend Steve. A habit which Bucky hadn’t forgotten from their common lives in the 1940s – trying to get his best friend a date as well.

However, Steve had no interest in dating and neither did you who had just gotten out of a long serious relationship. Your friend really just wanted to cheer you up and Bucky just wanted to get Steve out of his apartment. But this particular unwillingness to go to this double date was what bonded you two that evening. You talked and talked as if the time had stopped for just the two of you. You didn’t even notice when Bucky and your friend had left. You were completely consumed by each another.

Time passed and you kept on dating. And unlike your friend and Bucky who broke up shortly after you and Steve fell into a deep loving relationship that lasted for 4 full years. And this particular day marked this milestone. However, you never were much of a celebrating person when it came to anniversaries. You never demanded big expensive gifts, romantic diners at fancy restaurants or surprising vacations to exotic places. You rarely even wanted to make anything special on these days which would be different to any other regular day. A trait about you that Steve really loved.

But on this particular anniversary Steve had prepared a surprise for you because he wanted this day to be a very special one.

It all began in the moment you opened your eyes. A delicious scent of fresh toasts and coffee was filling the air mixed with… what was that? Strawberry jam?

You looked around confused where the delightful aroma was coming from and saw Steve holding a bed tray just across the bed.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He gently whispered as he lowered himself and kissed your forehead.

“Morning, babe.” You said sleepily with only one eye opened.

“Come on, sit down. It’s breakfast time.” Steve said as he placed the bed tray in front of you.

It wasn’t the first time Steve had brought you breakfast in bed, so you didn’t suspect anything. Until after you finished eating he told you to put on clothes because you were going out.

“Why? Today is a lazy day.” You tried to protest. “Breakfast in bed, hot cocoa in bed, a book in bed, maybe lunch in bed… you and I in bed.” You said the last words with a foxy smile.

Steve smiled back at you and bit his lower lip. How tempting everything sounded. But he still wanted to fulfill his surprise for the day.

“This sounds all great but we’ll have to leave it for another day.” Steve finally said. “Because today… I have something prepared for you.” He finished with a smile.

“Steve… you know I’m not really into these anniversary celebrations.” You said. “You can just come and cuddle with me under the blanket and it’ll be all the same.”

Steve smiled even wider. “It won’t be the same. Not at all.” He finished his sentence and helped you get out of bed.

It all started at the local Ice Rink.

You gasped when you reached the place. You loved ice skating but Steve was definitely not made for it. That was why you two had never done it beforehand. But Steve wanted nothing more than to make this day a special one for you. He bravely put on the ice skates and got on the ice. For 3 full seconds he was holding up, after which he fell on his butt. You laughed uncontrollably and went to check on him.

“Oh my god, babe. Are you alright?”

“I was under ice for 70 years. I think I’ll survive this.” Steve replied back wittily.

You held his big manly hand and helped him get up. You patiently started teaching him how to do it. Fall after fall, laugh after laugh, Steve started keeping himself in the air more and more. He managed to cover longer distances. At few times he even caught up with you.

You held Steve’s hands and started pulling him forward which resulted in both of you falling on the ground. Steve had nothing more to do than hold you in his arms fully exhausted of the exertion.

“Here’s no place for snuggles.” Said the person in charge when he reached you two. “I know you love each other but there are other people in here… and kids.” The man added with a playful tone.

You got back up and continued ice skating. Steve was falling, you were laughing. But at the few moments in which he managed to keep himself in the air long enough you two held hands and skated next to each other gazing lovingly at one another. Until Steve fell down.

At the end of the allowed time Steve was filled with bruises while the only thing you got were the probable abs from the non-stop laughing.

“Steve, that was amazing!” You told him after you got out of the Ice Rink. “That was absolutely incredible!” You grabbed his neck and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you!”

“I’m glad you liked it, sweetheart, because we’ve barely began.” Steve replied with a smile.

“Huh?” You were confused but excited at the same time.

Steve grabbed your hand and led you towards the next adventure.

You saw snowballs flying everywhere. People were at ‘war’. Or at least that was what the poster said. Somebody had organized a big event of snowballs fight. And you were about to go in the middle of it.

“Ready, babe?” Steve asked you still holding your hand.

“Steve!” You screamed uncertain but smiling like a kid. Deep down you wanted this.

“Come on, honey. It’s now or never!” Steve pulled your hand and you suddenly got to the middle of the ‘war field’.

A freezing wet snowball hit your face making you fall on the ground. Steve quickly laid down upon you and took a few hits on his back and butt.

“Ouch!” He screamed. “Not the butt! I just fell on it a few times on hard ice!”

You giggled uncontrollably once again as you could feel the numerous snowballs which continued hitting Steve. Including on his butt. He continued groaning with every hit. Until the soldier in him was awoken and he started crawling towards a hiding hole. All of the time he tried to keep you safe even though you took a few hits too.

You managed to hide where no snowballs could reach you. You could barely move your face which was freezing from the first hit. Nonetheless, you couldn’t stop laughing. Steve was turning around like a meat on grill which has to be cooked evenly on both sides. He was so bruised from the Ice Rink that he couldn’t lay down on either side.

“That’s it! I’m attacking!” Suddenly, Steve said as he started forming snowballs.

You lifted yourself too and briskly made a few snowballs of your own. Then you joined the ‘war’. You felt like that for every 1 snowball thrown you were hit like 2 times. And Steve continued to groan with every hit. You were laughing so much that eventually a snowball got in your mouth and you started choking. This time it was his turn to laugh.

After about an hour of intense snowballs war you thought you were going home. Until Steve held your hand and pulled it towards the next adventure.

“Steve! But we’re soaking wet!” You tried to protest. “I even ate snow… and you have a bruised butt.” You said your final words chuckling.

“Shhh, don’t worry.” Steve calmed you. “We’re going to warm up now… and what does my butt have to do with us being wet?”

You giggled even more as a reply and let him take you wherever he wanted.

Unexpectedly, you ended up in a local café. You wondered what adventure could there be in it.

“You want some hot chocolate?” Steve asked you after you walked through the door.

“Yes, please!” You were shivering like crazy, so you were dying for some.

“Well, then you have to earn it.” Steve smiled smugly.

You looked at him confused until you reached further inside the café. A man was standing in there asking for the next volunteers.

“Over here!” Steve suddenly said raising his hand while holding yours with his other.

“Ah, the gentleman and his beautiful lady.” The host said. “Please, come here.”

Steve smiled at you with a wink and pulled your hand to the improvised stage. After everyone gasped at the fact that Captain America himself was standing in front of them you two were sent to the ‘backstage’ to change your clothes. You were put in fitted sticky-on-the-outside costumes. You couldn’t stop laughing even when you were asked to go back to the stage again. You two just looked so damn ridiculous.

“And now…” The host started. “For their free hot chocolate + a muffin Captain America himself and his girl Y/N will play our latest game – Mission Impossible, the Sticky Version!” After his final words the small crowd went crazy.

Steve looked at you with a wide smile to which you replied with an even wider smile. Then some people came to you and adhered your costume’s back to Steve’s. A whole bunch of winter-related objects were scattered on the ground. And your task was to collect them all except that either one of you had a specified type of objects to collect in a specified for that basket.

The start was given and the time started ticking. Both of you ran towards their objects causing you two to fall down.

“Oh, my butt!” Steve exclaimed for the billionth time today.

You started laughing again. Steve tried to get back up but it wasn’t synchronized with you, so he fell again… on his butt.

Your laughter was so hard that you couldn’t get up. Steve started crawling dragging you with him, so that he could collect at least his objects.

Eventually, however, your giggling calmed down, so you joined the game as well. You were trying to crawl alongside Steve even though you were more often being dragged by him. After all, he was at least 5 times stronger than you. Or maybe 10 times?

You were trying to throw some of your objects to your basket from afar. One ball bounced off the wall and hit Steve accidentally… on his butt. You assumed it was all blue by now. Some people might have given up on this game after so many painful hits. But Steve… Steve had fought in the WWII against Hydra and the Nazis. He wasn’t the one to whine and quit.

Falling and getting up, crawling and dragging one another, hitting each other accidentally. After a few minutes of real exertion the finish signal finally beeped. Only a small amount of your objects were actually in their baskets, so you assumed you had lost the game. But the real purpose of it was to have fun and of course a marketing strategy to promote the café, so you were given your free hot chocolate + a muffin.

You sat down at a quiet part of the establishment with a nice view of the stage, so you could observe the next pair playing the same game. Steve groaned when he sat down.

“You alright?” You asked him playfully.

“Very funny.” Steve replied sarcastically.

“What? I am genuinely concern of your well-being… Well, I mean… your butt’s well-being.” You blew some more air out of your nose.

“My butt is fine.” Steve finally answered after trying to keep in his laughter.

“I’m glad to hear that.” You replied with a wide smile. “Thank you, Steve. For this amazing day!”

“Well, you better have your hot chocolate and muffin quickly because we are not done for today!” Steve stated with a smile.

You gasped. There’s more?

Then you enjoyed the free hot chocolate and the delicious muffin while having a sweet conversation with Steve and laughing at the next pairs that joined the game. Somebody falling off the stage was a most unexpected outcome. Neither was the couple having a serious quarrel while playing the game. But the two little twins were absolutely adorable.

By the time you got out of the café it was entirely dark outside. Steve held your hand and pulled it towards the local park. The Christmas lights which were still on were absolutely breathtaking. But they weren’t anything new. You had enjoyed them countless time prior to this evening. Besides, Christmas had passed and everyone expected them to be removed anytime soon.

“Where are we going, Steve?” You felt the need to ask. You were really impatient to know what the next adventure was.

“Shhh, we’re almost there.” Steve replied softly as he kissed your forehead.

You walked through the park until you reached a darker part of it. You were pretty certain there used to be Christmas decoration there before. You assumed the process of removing it had begun.

“You wait right here.” Steve told you as he walked away.

He got to a man nearby and started talking to him. Then Steve got back to you and held your hand. He looked forward in anticipation. You looked there as well.

A moment later a brand new decoration lit up.

“Happy 4th anniversary, Y/N!”

You gasped and covered your mouth with your hands. That was the last thing you’d expected to show up in there.

“Oh, Steve!” You exclaimed. “It’s beautiful!”

“You like it?” Steve asked as to be sure.

“Yes, I love it!” You replied with watery eyes.

While you were staring at the lights they suddenly shut down. Your eyes were still blinded by the bright light for you to have noticed that Steve had gotten down on one knee. Next thing you knew new lights lit up.

“Will you marry me?”

You gasped even louder. That was even more unexpected. You put your shaking hands at your face. You looked to your side only to find Steve holding a box with a ring at your feet. His eyes were sparkling with hope.

“Y/N…” He started. “Will you marry me?”

“Oh god, yes!” You exclaimed when you unexpectedly heard some random observers cheering up.

Steve got up and hugged you lifting you in the air. He spun you a few times after which he removed your glove to put on the ring. He found it a little hard because of your shaky hand. The ring was stunningly beautiful. You couldn’t stop staring at it until you got home. Even though your hand was freezing.

For the rest of the evening you two discussed the future plans for the wedding. The possible date, the clothes, the food, the guests, the place. You had ideas of the invitations’ design and talked about the decorations.

After that you cuddled on the couch while a nice romantic movie was on TV. Your head was placed upon Steve’s chest. Your head was going up and down at his breathing while his heart was singing you a lullaby. Imperceptibly, you fell asleep dreaming of your future life with Steve.

——————————————————–

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This fanfic is my own work, it is not to be re-posted on this site or posted anywhere else without my knowledge and consent!

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oskea93 · 5 years

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Think of You Part Seven (part 1)

A/N: Hey guys! I just want to thank you guys for the continued support for Think of You. I’m so glad that all of you enjoy the story. I enjoy writing Caroline and the gang. Out of all the stories i’ve ever written, Caroline and Mac are my favorite OCs. I hope you like them as well! Okay, so i’ve broken chapter seven up into two parts. The first part was a little goofy and filler-ish, but the second part will be more dramatic (ie Nikki and Caroline interactions). Without further waiting, here’s chapter seven! PS: Sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes. I’ll try to go back and fix them at a later time!

Have you ever watched a movie where the main girl sleeps with the main guy and then quietly sneaks of the room the next morning? You sometimes wonder how she’s being so quiet or how the guy can sleep like a log while she’s leaving the bed or getting dressed. Even though I’ve had those thoughts, I never imagined that I would have to figure those things out for myself. I remember getting to this point but I couldn’t believe I let it actually happen. It took almost a year for my ex-boyfriend to get me into his bed. He tried from the very beginning but I brushed off his advances and told him I wasn’t ready. It took Nikki Sixx less than 4 hours to not only bless me with the way his tongue worked but also have me screaming his name as he pounded into me. Oh gosh, that sounds so gross! Long story short- Nikki and I had sex. We had sex numerous times that night and it was amazing! Even though I was in eternal bliss last night and the early part of this morning, I was now regretting every single action I let happen yesterday. First of all, I regretted ever going to the concert. If I just stayed home and watched TV and folded laundry like I planned, this would have never happened. I would still have some sort of dignity. Hell, my poor dignity was left at that stupid concert venue on that slimy couch.

I looked over at Nikki, taking him in as he slept. Even though he was attractive when he was awake, he was even cuter while he slept. Part of me just wanted to stay and enjoy being wrapped in his arms. It felt nice. The other part of me, the side with all the judgment, was telling me to leave and leave fast. It was as if my brain was fighting with my heart, unfortunately my brain was winning. I had all these consequences running through my brain. What if he just used me for sex? He was a musician. He knew that he could have any girl he wanted and I was probably just a play thing for the night. He got what he wanted and I would never hear from him again. Did I want that? Even though I haven’t known him that long, I enjoyed spending time with him. He got on my nerves, and he still does, but I enjoyed being around him. I liked the way he laughed. His laugh was weird and cute at the same time. I liked how his eyes stared into your sole. He had gorgeous green eyes. He was so smart, too.

It seemed like he was an overall catch but I he was way too dangerous for me. He was in a rock band for one. He had tattoos. He sang and played music that mentioned Satanism. The most dangerous part of him was that he was utterly gorgeous and there was no way I could stay away. Why was he so damn pretty!

I decided that I needed to get out of there before he woke up. I didn’t want to deal with the awkward post sex talk. Granted, I’ve never had an awkward post sex encounter but I didn’t want to start now. I don’t think I ever had a regular morning after encounter. I’ve only had sex like four times, this making five, and I’ve always woken up by myself. That makes you feel really crappy. You think that you’ve spent the night with a great person and then you wake up alone and confused. Oh. That’s exactly what I was about to do.

I looked back at Nikki. Did I really want to leave him alone in bed after what happened between us? Would he be mad? Maybe he’d be cool with it. I’m such a terrible person!

I slowly removed myself from his grasp, trying my best not to wake him up. The poor guy had a vice grip on, I guess afraid that I would leave at some point. I basically crawled out of bed and landed on the floor with a light thud. I peered over the mattress to make sure the noise didn’t wake him. He was still sound asleep. The sheets that covered us were laying low on his stomach, making my heart race a bit. My new alter-ego, let’s call her Veronica, wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and replay last night all over again. After a couple of seconds, I decided that that coast was clear. I pulled my naked body off the ground and started looking for my clothes. The only article of clothing I could find was my romper. I had no idea where my underwear was and one of my shoe was missing. I quickly pulled on the romper and tried looking for the other shoe. Luckily, I found it near the bathroom door. I slipped on my sandals, trying not to look at myself in the mirror that just so happened to be in front of the bed. I looked at that plenty enough last night. My hair-tie was around my wrist, allowing me to pull my messy hair into an even messier bun. I grabbed my purse from the bedside chair and tip-toed out the bedroom door.

People were passed out everywhere.

Some people had all of their clothes on, while others were barely covered. There were alcohol bottles littered all over the floor, along with cigarette buds crushed into the carpet. I felt bad for whoever owned this house. I quickly made my way out the door and to the edge of the street. I remembered that the house was close to the strip. I made my way down the street, trying not pay attention to that passed me. You could definitely tell that I just had a one night stand. I didn’t have any undergarments on and my hair was piled on top of my head. My love bites, which had doubled, were on full display. The people that passed me probably thought I was a hooker or groupie. Was I a groupie? What exactly is a groupie? I’ll have to ask Mac when I get home; I’m sure she knows that answer to that.

Oh gosh, Mackenzie. Our conversation from last night flooded my memory. I could tell that she was mad at me for not answering her question. I can’t believe I lied to her. She’s my best friend. I shouldn’t have lied about what I did with Nikki. She would probably congratulate me for what I had done. I’m gonna have to call her when I get home. Maybe I should have stayed with Nikki. If I stayed, I wouldn’t be walking down the Sunset Strip in search of a taxi. What if there isn’t a taxi available this early? I didn’t even know what time it was? The sun was pretty high in the sky but I still couldn’t tell you the time. My dad tried to teach me all that wilderness stuff when I was younger but it never stuck. I was more interested in my Barbie dolls and helping my mom in the kitchen. “Taxi!”

After three failed attempts at haling a taxi, I finally made it back home. I immediately stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower. I allowed the hot water to wash away the sins that I had just committed. I didn’t realize how sore my body was until the hot water hit my skin. I also didn’t realize the extent of the love bites Nikki had left. They were everywhere! I had them on my neck, my chest, my hipbones, and my inner thighs. He just worked his way down, leaving his mark as he went. The ones of my neck were very noticeable and I had to be at work tomorrow. I never had to deal with a hickey before. I for sure didn’t know how to hide them from the world. How was I supposed to show up to my class tomorrow with bruises all over my neck? It’s like a bruise, right? Maybe I could say that the vacuum cleaner went rouge and attacked me. You’re so stupid, Caroline. The kids would probably believe that lie but their parents would not. Why did I let him do this to me? I could get fired for showing up with hickeys all over my body. I worked at a Christian school for goodness sake!

I removed myself from the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. I had a couple of errands to run today and I also need to speak to Mac. I knew that she was mad at me last night. I had every intention of talking to her last night but Nikki had other plans. I quickly dressed and allowed my hair to air dry. I made a list of the things I needed from the grocery store and headed out. My mind was going a mile a minute with the thoughts of last night and what exactly it all meant. I had sex with a guy I barely knew but my heart had feelings for the guy. Sure, he was obnoxious and into himself, but there was something intriguing about him. He had a mystery to him and I wanted to solve it and claim him as mine. Wow, never thought I would think that about a guy. Another thing that made me want him was that he was so not my type. From a scale from being my type to not being my type, Nikki was on another planet. My type was Earth and he was Pluto. He was an unknown planet that held secrets and darkness that I needed to lighten. I wanted to be the sun to his dark little planet. Okay, that’s a bit weird…

NIKKI’S POV!

You know when you meet someone and they are unlike anyone you’ve ever met? Well, Caroline Daniels was that person to me. She was different from the girls that threw themselves at the band or even those that walked around on the strip. Hell, she was different from any girl that I’ve ever met in my life. She had a shyness about it but I could tell that she had a wild streak hiding somewhere. She was quirky and kind of nerdy, but in an adorable way. She was so fucking smart! She wasn’t like the airheads that Vince associated with. I think she ever said she was a teacher? I could have just made that part up but that’s beside the point. Caroline has been the only girl that’s made me chase after her. Most girls throw themselves on me as a dash and fuck. We fuck and then they dash away to the next member. I’ve had girls in my bed one minute and the next they are in Tommy’s. It was a revolving door of chicks that wanted to fuck us. With Caroline, I had to chase after her. I had to be the one that puts myself on the line and hope for the best. From the moment I saw her at the concert, I knew that she was the girl I needed to be with. I know that sounds super cheesy but it’s the truth. I remember the first time I saw her. My heart started to beat faster and my pants grew tighter than they had been. She defiantly had an effect on my dick, but her effect on my heart was more powerful. It kind of pissed me off that she walked out of the concert. We were killing it and she walks out like she’s uninterested. She must have been interested because I saw her return a few minutes later. Once I fully got a chase to see her at the restaurant, I knew that I was in love. (Cheesy moment again). I’m Nikki fucking Sixx, I’m not supposed to fall in love with girls. I’m a fucker, not a lover!

I tried to get Tommy to ask her friend what her address was so that I could see her. I thought maybe she would be excited but it seemed to piss her off. I thought she was gonna call the cops on my at one point. I think the true icing on the cake was when I convinced Tommy’s chick to invite her to dinner. I asked the girl to tell her that it would just be the two of them. I needed to talk to her and that was the only way I could get her alone without showing up at her place. She was pissed at first but she started letting her guard down. I guess I broke through enough because she showed up to the concert and we all know what happened after the show! Like I said, I barely know her, but I can’t get enough of her. I think I might even be in love with her…

I woke up the next morning expecting to find Caroline next to me. A smile formed on my face as I remember what had happened last night and into this morning. It was fast at first. We tore each other’s clothes off like a bunch of animals. I had her screaming my name so loud the people outside were cheering us on. I don’t even think we made it to the bed to be honest. I’m pretty sure I took her against the wall that first time. I think we christened the whole room. At one point, I remember fucking her on the dresser, that was amazing! We took a break here and there but the last time was special, at least I think so. It was slow and very intimate. The room was dark and quiet. It was just her and I. We had a connection that sent sparks throughout my body. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. I had every intention of taking her again this morning but she wasn’t here. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. I was actually kind of pissed that she just left without saying goodbye. Granted, I probably wouldn’t have let her go, but she could have at least tried to say goodbye.

I slowly removed myself from the bed, stretching my sore muscles in the process. I pulled on my pants from last night, along with my boots, and made my way out to the main room. I didn’t bother putting my shirt back on as I stepped over the bodies of the party-goers. I made my way out the front door and over to my car, slipping my sunglasses on before starting the engine. I drove the distance to what I remembered was the location, trying my best not to get lost. Once I was sure this was the place, I parked the car, quickly pulling my discarded shirt back on, before heading up the metal staircase.

Apt #17 I knocked on the wooden door. I tried to listen for incoming footsteps but the traffic was making it hard to hear. I waited a couple more seconds before knocking again. Her curtains were closed so I could peep to see if she was just ignoring me. Hell, she could have been in her bedroom ignoring me for all I knew.

“She’s not home.” A male’s voice sounded. I turned my head to see an elderly man and woman leaving the apartment next to Caroline’s. “She left about 20 minutes ago.”

I cleared my throat, “Uh-“ I began. “Thanks.” I muttered.

The couple looked me over, disapproval flooding their eyes. “How do you know Caroline, son?” The man asked. His wife whispered to him not to interfere but he held up a hand to silence her. “Caroline’s a good girl. She doesn’t need a gutter rat such as yourself clouding her judgment.” I couldn’t help but laugh in his face. If he only knew how good a girl she actually was. He would be very surprised if I informed him of her actions yesterday and last night.

“Whatever, dude.” I muttered. I could tell the old man wanted to say something else, but I didn’t feel like hearing what he had to say. I sauntered away from the couple, making my way back to the car. I couldn’t help but laugh again at the comment the old guy said. It was no surprise to me that I was the opposite of Caroline. I was a gutter rat and a damn proud one too. Gutter rats know how to get shit done and don’t take shit from people…

Caroline’s POV

“He came to my house and my neighbors almost called the cops on him, Mac!” I exclaimed. “My poor neighbor hasn’t stopped checking on me since I got home.” I watched as Mac nearly chocked on her Chinese takeout. I had come home from grocery shopping and the next thing I know my neighbor is telling about the rude guy that was knocking on my door. I was concerned at first, but once he started explaining what he looked like I knew exactly who it was. From the jet black hair, unbuttoned shirt, and leather pants, I knew that it was none other than Nikki Sixx. I tried to explain to Walter and his wife, Maggie, that Nikki was just a friend and that they had no need to worry. Well, that didn’t exactly go as well as I would have hoped. Walter began to explain to me the dangers of being friends with a guy like Nikki. I would not only get into a lot of trouble but I could also be called not-so-nice names (his words, not mine). I assured him that I would be okay. I didn’t want to tell him that it was rude of him to interject himself into my business because that’s not the type of person I am. I respected him for looking out for me but I didn’t need another man like my father in my life. Michael Daniels was enough to handle.

“So what exactly happened between you and Nikki Sixx?” Mac asked, changing the subject. I knew she was wanting to know and I was going to have to tell her. I actually felt a bit embarrassed, to be honest. I used to criticize her for sleeping around with guys she barely knew, and now here I was doing the same thing. “Everything.” I muttered. “I let him-”I stopped, trying to find the right words. “I let him perform oral sex on me.” My eyes remained on my Lo Mein noodles as I waited for Mac’s response. After a couple of seconds of silence, I quickly peered up to see her smiling at me with her mouth wide open. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” I began to whine.

She instantly started to laugh, “You let Nikki Sixx go down on you?” My cheeks started to heat up as she laughed. “I can’t believe Caroline Vanessa Daniels got tongue fucked by Nikki Sixx!”

“Don’t say it like that, Mackenzie.” I groaned. I reached for the blanket that was resting on my couch and threw it over my head. Even though she said it in such a crass way, that’s exactly what happened. When my parents had the birds and bees talk with me, they never mentioned the use of tongue, not even when kissing. Like I had mentioned earlier, I found out about oral sex from Mac. Come to think of it, I found out a lot of stuff from Mac. All my parents told me about was when two people love each other, they get married, and THEN make love. I don’t even think I made love with Nikki. It was raw and wild, nothing like what my parents explained to me. I learned the Leave it to Beaver version from my parents and received the X-rated version from Nikki.

“You’re such a dork, Caroline.” Mac pulled the blanket from my head. “Okay, so, you had oral sex with Nikki. So, what?” She stated. “Did you have regular sex with him?” I stayed silent, giving her the answer. Another smile formed on her face, “I know this is gonna sound weird-” She began. “But I’m so proud of you for getting properly fucked.”

“Ugh!” I exclaimed. I quickly jumped up from the floor and started making my way to the kitchen. I hastily placed my bowl in the sink, Mac following close behind. “Caroline, it’s completely normal to have sex!” She exclaimed. “I had sex with Tommy the first night I met him. You’re 21 years old, that’s what we do.”

I turned to face her, “That’s not what I do. I don’t have sex with guys I barely know. Look how long it took Chris to get into my pants.”

“You don’t have sex with guys you barely know, but you do have sex with guys that you have feelings for, Caroline.” She spoke. “You and I both know that you have major feelings for Nikki, but you’re too scared to admit it.” I looked at her as if she had three heads. “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’m telling the truth. You want him, you need this man in your life.” Was she right? Every time I saw Nikki, my heart starts to flutter and I can’t help but smile. The heart fluttering could be some underlying medical condition, though. “I know what you’re doing, Caroline.” I looked at her. “You’re over analyzing everything and you’re gonna psych yourself out.”   I don’t know what came over me, but I just burst out crying. I dropped to the ground and just cried. I had no idea why I was crying, but huge tears were falling from my eyes. “Caroline!” Mac threw herself next to me, engulfing me in her arms. “You’re over analyzing.” She pressed her lips into my hair, gently rocking me, causing me to slowly calm down. “Just breath. It’s going to be okay.” I wiped the snot and tears that had formed on my sweatshirt. “I over analyzed.” I whimpered. “I couldn’t help it.”

Mac let out a chuckle, “You’ve been over analyzing things since I met you.” She pulled back a little. “Do you feel better, though? I mean, is your brain more clear to think?” I nodded my head, straightening up against the wooden cabinet. I did feel slightly better after my cry-plosion. “Now-”Mac started. “You need to go find Nikki and tell him that you’re sorry for skipping out on him this morning. And-”She cut me off before I could speak. “Tell him how you really feel.” I looked at her, slowly nodding my head in agreement. I knew she was right but I was being way too stubborn. I may have said that I was done over analyzing everything but it was a lie. I was thinking about anything and everything that had to do with Nikki. What would people think of him? What would people think of me? How would my parents react to me being with someone like Nikki? How would his fans, especially the female ones, react to me being with him? Was I edgy enough to be with a guy like him? The answer to the edgy question was a big-fat NO! I still watched Saturday Morning Cartoons for goodness sake! I teach seven and eight year olds; I have to be down with the cartoons trends.

“You’re doing it again!” Mac shouted, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “Don’t fucking over analyze!” She was right. I needed to calm down and face the music. The next time I see Nikki, I’m gonna tell him how I feel. I’m gonna tell him that I have feelings for him and I want to be with him. Goodness, gracious, that sounds so dorky!

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Prologue [T.S. / J.H.]

Series: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”

Pairing: Tony Stark/Justin Hammer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seaville, Maine, 1991. The sudden death of Tony Stark’s parents forces him to return to the town he left behind when he went to study at MIT (Boston). With his arrival, all the memories he thought he had erased come back to him. The events of his last year of high school and that summer of 1988 appear to him as if they were ghosts from the past, forcing him to confront them and causing him to rethink his life.

Warnings: Death of parents. Funeral. Drunkenness.

Word Count: 5574

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Christmas 1991 (4th year at MIT)

Who would have thought that after leaving that small coastal town in the state of Maine and having promised himself never to set foot in that place again, he would have to return. On that December 17, 1991, the press and every other media outlet reported a devastating news story that had happened the night before, "Howard and Maria Stark die in a car accident on Seaville". The impact of the news was far and wide, the country woke up the next morning to a headline that generated controversy about how it had happened and who would take over Howard Stark's position at his company's New York headquarters.

But none of that was relevant to Tony Stark's mind, who barely uttered a word when Edwin Jarvis crashed the MIT Christmas party with a phone call to inform him of the event. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol in his blood, or the fact that he could barely hear his own thoughts under the infernal noise of techno music, but it took him a few minutes to react. Just a few hours ago a long discussion with his father over the phone had managed to infuriate him, the fact that he again decided to spend the holidays away from his family and did not choose to return to Seaville he knew that his father cared little, but any excuse was good to lash out at him, or at least Tony thought so.

The first thing that came to his mind as he reacted were the last words addressed to each of them, a clearly sarcastic discussion with his father and a feigned indifference towards his mother because of his anger, who was trying to calm the situation between the two of them. That was the last thing the three of them experienced and it would mark Tony Stark's life forever.

The Stark family owned a multinational technology company that spread its power throughout the country, and Howard Stark had been in charge of it, as he was the one who ran it from its beginnings until his death. Few were the memories of Tony's childhood in which his father was present, he was always travelling and when they met again during the holidays they barely spoke to each other, because whenever they did, a fight between them would come to light. That was how Tony had written off their relationship. But things were different with his mother, who always tried to mediate between them and cared about him. It was she who interceded when Howard wanted to send Tony to boarding school abroad, or when she wanted him to change his residence to New York.

As he remembered all those things, a pang of guilt came over young Tony Stark, but Jarvis's words from the other end of the phone line brought him back to his senses.

"The funeral will be held first thing tomorrow morning, sir. You don't have to worry about anything, it's all set," Tony who stood leaning against a door frame in the fraternity house nodded impassively. "A car will pick you up in two hours so you can get there on time, sir?"

"Thank you Jarvis," he said deadpan just before he hung up the phone again and faced one of the hardest nights.

The apathy that can produce tragic situations in people can be somewhat frivolous, especially if you are one of those people who find it difficult to express your feelings. The drive from Boston to Seaville took about four hours, some roads were impassable due to the snowfall that had occurred during that winter period. The numerous phone calls he had received along the way, most of them about the future of the family business, added to his apathy. No one understood how he felt, let alone anyone else, and he was alone in the world with Jarvis.

He took in the closeness of the place as he gazed out to sea. Seaville was known for its beautiful sunsets overlooking Maine Bay, the town had a population of just eight thousand, but it maintained an unblemished reputation as a community of artists and sailors, a fact that added to the economic status of the region. Maria Stark, formerly Collins, was born there, and it was her affection for her roots that led her to settle there again when she became pregnant with Tony's child. For a time Tony also shared her love of Seaville, but there were too many negative memories buried in the streets for him to return of his own free will.

When Tony saw the sign indicating the start of the Seaville settlement for the first time in four years, the knot that had been sitting in his stomach for hours increased its pressure, preventing him from barely breathing. He opted to keep his gaze fixed on a set of documentation about the company that Obadiah Stane had sent him before his departure from Boston, and tried to concentrate his thoughts on external things.

"Sir, we're here," the gentleness in Jarvis' voice reassured Tony after pulling him out of his thoughts.

The words spoken by the young adult had been sparse, barely possessing more than one syllable. As he stepped out of the car he recognised the place, and it was just then that it crossed his mind that he wished anything could have stood in his way, just so he would not have come to this place.

The funeral had been arranged in the Seaville cemetery, a place on the top of a small hill surrounded by a wide grassy esplanade with birch trees. Jarvis stood by his side, waiting for him to take his first step to join him, but Tony's limbs seemed to be locked at that very moment.

"Your mother always spoke of the peace of this place," he commented, urging Tony to walk. "She would have wanted something intimate."

The funeral had been arranged as quickly as possible to avoid the crowds and to keep the wishes his mother would have wanted. The last thing he expected was for them to turn his parents' funeral into a public event and for any news channel or media outlet, national or international, to broadcast it like it was a bloody movie.

"That's right."

After Tony took the first step, the next two hours went quicker than he would have thought, Jarvis was right in his words, there was peace in the place and Tony found that out. It was fortunate for him that they arrived when most people were already there, it meant that for the moment he didn't have to hear any comments lamenting the event from anyone present. So he just hid his gaze under a pair of sunglasses, avoiding eye contact with any grieving faces. He recognised many of those present, from employees of local businesses to some Stark Industries officials who had managed to arrive in time after hearing the news. Still, while he wanted to avoid bumping into anyone, he was hopeful of the presence of several people, who were probably not going to be there for external reasons. Either because they did not yet know the news or were not in town at the time.

With the reverend's last words the coffins of his parents were lowered and buried several feet underground. Tony was unable to take on the role of offering a few words, he simply stood there quietly and received the condolences of several of those present. As they passed by one by one, Tony merely offered them a simple nod with his face, barely looking up. It was minutes later when Jarvis put his hand on his shoulder, awaiting their departure for the car, but Tony needed a moment.

"You can go to reception, Jarvis, I'll stay a bit longer," he informed her. "By the way, if you see that I haven't arrived before I'm done, don't worry, just go home."

"I don't know if..."

"Please, Jarvis," she said without looking at him.

"All right, sir."

The funeral reception at the home of his youth would only foster an increase in his feelings of guilt, he would not be able to walk through that door and lock himself within those four walls, find out if everything was as he left it or if there had been any changes in the four years since he left for MIT, so he decided to let time pass.

He reached a point where the sun was setting, his mind hadn't noticed the passage of time but he sat in that chair for three hours. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed a presence behind him until the person approached the graves and dropped a small bunch of daisies on the freshly scattered sand, a fact that made Tony wipe away his tears quickly.

Tony stood up while being grateful for the change in his body's posture, his watery eyes didn't allow him to recognise the figure at first, but after blinking a couple of times he realised that his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. It was you. You didn't hesitate to approach him and put your arms around his shoulders, causing Tony's body to become paralysed. His wits had been switched off for hours, as had his mind, but that moment brought his senses back to life. Your scent, your warmth, your body contact, your eyes, and hearing your breath so close again turned his broken heart.

"I..." began Tony in a whisper.

"Don't say anything," you cut him off without breaking the embrace.

After a minute you opted to pull away, seeking eye contact with him, which was prevented by Tony's sunglasses, so without giving up you reached up to them and slowly took them off, noticing that under them those hazel eyes were still present, slightly reddened.

"There you are," you said with a wistful smile.

Tony hated himself for not being able to cope properly with the moment that was unfolding before him. But he accepted that you of all people knew his limitations when it came to expressing feelings, whether they were positive or negative. It was true, you knew, so having enjoyed seeing that under that suit and his new appearance he was still the same Tony Stark you knew, you put his glasses back in place.

"I guess you'll be wishing you were alone," you said, lowering your gaze. "You know where to find me if you need me."

You offered him one last smile, which almost took Tony's breath away and, just as you had reached him, you turned around to continue on your way.

Unlike the funeral, the news seemed to have already been published in most of the sensationalist media in the country, so the funeral reception at the Stark house welcomed more than two hundred people who wanted to give their condolences, but those condolences never reached Tony, as he hardly appeared there. It wasn't until after half past ten at night, with the moon showing its clear figure in the sky, that he came face to face with his past.

Jarvis had taken it upon himself to collect every bit of food and flowers that the guests had brought with them, a gesture that Tony was grateful for, for now he only had to face his past memories and not the present situation. As he entered the hall and walked into the living room he realised that it was a vivid image of his childhood, the mantelpiece displayed before him filled with Christmas decorations, a large tree full of ornaments, most of them homemade, made by his mother, garlands draped around the mantelpiece and Christmas boots. That was a shock. After clicking her tongue, she opted to walk away in the direction of the kitchen, the knot in her stomach having mingled with roars informing her that she'd better eat something if she didn't want to pass out. Jarvis had been considerate enough to save some leftovers from the reception, so he grabbed the plate of larded meat and headed off to face the floor above. The night was going to be a long one.

After climbing the wide marble stairs he discovered a closed door at the end of the corridor, with a sign reading "Genius at work", those three words provided perhaps the first smile in hours. He walked towards it with a series of doubts in his gut, but eager to know what he would find behind it. He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it, the first thing his senses picked up was a deep musty smell, the gloom was still there, but soft rays from the moon coming through the window made him resemble each of the furniture and objects there.

Before him time had not passed, his large room filled with gadgets on every shelf and desk remained just as he had left it before he left for MIT in the summer of 1988. He placed the plate on the bedside table and slipped his hands into his pockets, walking around the room. His outward calmness was extreme, though inside he seemed to be distressed and nostalgic. A crunching sound under the soles of his shoes made him realise that several screws and pieces of metal were lying on the carpet. Everything was as messy as he left it, even that robot he had made for his last academic year in high school was in pieces on the desk.

"Idiot," she said, glaring at him.

It was at that very moment that it dawned on him how exhaustion, both mental and physical, was consuming them. Tony flopped face down on his bed with his eyes closed, letting the fragrance of his sheets envelop his senses. Every aspect of his surroundings seemed to take him back to his high school years, so he struggled to keep it from happening, opening his eyes again and recomposing himself on the mattress. He slowly surveyed every nook and cranny of his bedroom again, until he let his gaze linger on a wooden box next to a trophy from the state's Artificial Intelligence contest.

"Shit..." he muttered to himself.

He knew its contents, he knew that it was perhaps the most dangerous thing to be found in those four walls, he knew that it was possibly the thing that was going to destabilise him emotionally, but he had to get his hands on it again and open it. So he jumped towards that shelf and took the box in his hands, opening the lid and making all the contents scattered on his bed.

Dozens of photographs practically flew out of the box and landed on the bedspread, each one showing a unique moment in Tony's life, the curious thing is that in the vast majority of them you were present, and when you weren't, it was you who had taken them. On the white borders were written different words, in your handwriting, leaving a record of when and where they were taken. "Steve's seventeenth birthday", "First game of the 1987 season", "Christmas 1985", "First day of high school Steve, Murph, Nat and Tony" "Graduation day", "Murph trying to fish with Nat", "Murph's eighteenth birthday", "Beach party", "Murph driving to Portland", "Murph roasting clouds", "Murph..."

A clattering noise pulled Tony out of the halo of longing he had become, that damn automatic mobile phone that was impossible to break away from as it was the only thing that connected him to his future, Stark Industries, began to ring. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but fleetingly disappeared as he wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket before picking up the phone.

"Hello?" he asked with his eyes closed and his head down.

One of the company's senior managers was behind the phone line from New York, the discussion became heated, they were demanding his presence at the company's New York headquarters as soon as possible. He had been receiving those calls ever since the tragic accident had reached the shareholders' ears, the curious thing is that none of them were to inquire about his state of mind or even his state of mind, so that was how it pushed him over the edge, showing the hidden feelings he had inside.

"My parents are fucking dead and that's all you care about?" he shouted into the phone. "Can't you stop thinking about your own interests for once in your life?"

The device landed against the headboard of his bed, the funny thing is that even so the voice of the major shareholder was still making its presence felt, to which Tony completely beside himself left the room and closed the door generating a deafening echo throughout the house. He knew he was not going to be quiet until he did what these people wanted, his freedom was gone, too many things were gone. From that moment on, he had become one of the most powerful men in the country overnight, and in the same way he had acquired numerous responsibilities that he was not yet ready to assume.

As he dropped in the middle of the stairs, hiding his face with his hands, a strong headache came over him, an accumulation of sensations and feelings prevented him from reacting to calm down, it was then that after a few minutes he went downstairs quickly, heading towards his father's cupboard in the office. During his youth he had approached that cupboard too many times, usually full of alcoholic beverages, but when he went to open it, he was shocked to find it completely empty. He hoped that the location of those bottles had changed to somewhere else, so Tony opted to quickly rummage through any place he could think of where there might be a bottle, but his search was in vain.

"Shit!" he slapped his hand on the kitchen counter. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Almost unconsciously he headed back to his father's office and opened the top desk drawer, where he found a box with a combination, oddly enough the one from his birthday, inside was a collection of keys, he pulled out the one to his red porsche.

He knew and acknowledged that the state of nerves he was in was not the best to get behind the wheel, but he was really desperate, and there was no one to slow him down at that moment. He drove to the first place that came to his mind, as there were not really too many choices in that coastal town that could be found open at that time of night. On the side of Maine Bay, near Seaville harbour, was the Captain Lou's, a perfect place to go for a fresh fish dinner or after-dinner drinks.

He was driving at such high speeds that it took him barely five minutes to pull into the car park, braking so aggressively that he left wheel marks on the road. He got out of the car still wearing his funeral clothes, with his hair completely dishevelled and hiding his eyes under his sunglasses. The place was a fisherman's house situated on an old pier, there was a small porch before entering where a small bell rang as Tony opened the door, he instantly recognised old Lou behind the bar, who was still holding his place as usual. He looked around, taking off his sunglasses for the first time, leaving his brown eyes completely swollen and reddened, which would make an impression on anyone who saw him, but Tony didn't really care at the moment. Still, he was grateful that the place wasn't too rowdy, just two small groups of adults and a couple at a far table. The bar was completely empty, so he took a seat at it, when Lou approached he was a bit perplexed by his presence, but he chose to take it as a matter of course.

"Sorry about your parents Tony," he said wiping the bar right in front of him.

"Give me two of the strongest you've got," he said ignoring her comment.

Just as Lou had poured him two glasses of whiskey, Tony digested them seconds later, informing him to refill them. Tony knew what he wanted, a night to forget, perhaps in the worst place to forget, as it was all memories. While he waited for a refill, as Lou was hesitating, Tony turned his gaze to the far table where the couple were having a drink, since he had entered there was something strange on that table, he thought he had seen someone familiar, he squinted his eyes hoping to sharpen his sense of sight, which was quite impaired at the moment, but it dawned on him. It was you, again, with an unknown boy whose face he couldn't see, as his back was to Tony. Without taking his eyes off you, he quickly gulped down the two glasses of whiskey Lou had poured for him.

"Put the bottle down," he said without paying attention to Lou.

The minutes passed, he was hesitant, irritated, distressed and completely broken inside by the accumulation of situations he had experienced in less than a day, and now he found you there, listening to your laughter, with an unknown guy. It was really the last thing he needed to end the day. The alcoholic solution was slowly affecting his senses, he had barely eaten all day, his only intake had just been four glasses of whiskey and that increased his feeling of drunkenness, along with all his negative emotions. As if something inside him was guiding him to you, Tony picked up the bottle of whiskey, which Lou had definitely been forced to leave on the bar, and staggered up from the stool. His jaw completely rigid, he walked as if an external force was pushing him from side to side, until he reached your table. You could hardly believe your eyes, the same thing happened to Tony, he could hardly believe you were there, next to him, and what hurt him the most was that you hadn't stopped laughing since he practically walked in. That generated the rage that joined with his sarcasm coming out.

"Tony..." you whispered, causing your companion to look up at him.

"Wow! But who do we have here?" a hysterical laugh came from within you. "The prodigious Justin Hammer. Wow... I didn't see you at my parents' funeral, how strange, with how fond you were of my father... I thought I'd see you around."

Yes, your escort that night was Justin Hammer, the cherry on top to make him remember Tony.

"Ah, no, that all that love was just because you wanted to get a good position at Stark Industries," Tony dropped his hand on Justin's shoulder and approached him. "Bingo! Now I'm the CEO, are you going to lick my ass like my father too?" the Stark sarcasm was again booming.

Your gaze flicked between Tony and Justin, who kept a straight face, keeping his composure in the situation. Tony took a small swig from the bottle he held firmly in his right hand, he could barely see your faces as his mind was affected in multiple ways.

"Oh, sorry for the interruption by the way," a burp came from inside him. "Was that a date? Are you two dating?" Tony arched an eyebrow pointing at you respectively. "Oh man, I see you didn't get a position at my company, but you hit the jackpot," he began to laugh. "Hey! I'm glad, you two make a cute couple. Yeah! I mean it, you're perfect for each other."

Tony's bitter words came out under your serious and sorrowful gaze. "Mind you, I have to warn you that in bed..." he began, but you instantly got up from your chair and grabbed his shoulders.

"Alright Tony, I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," you gripped the bottle tightly, in a failed attempt to take it from him.

Tony's impediment to having the bottle taken from him caused him to stumble into the table behind him, causing him to lose his balance, to which Justin Hammer quickly got up to try and hold him down.

"Don't even think about touching me," Tony said in a somewhat aggressive tone with a scowl.

"Tony..." you pleaded holding him by the arm.

The plea that came from between your lips made him react before the situation reached a point where there was no turning back. Hearing his name and seeing your gaze, he felt as if a dagger was stabbing into his heart, another one.

"Yep... I'd better go. Show's over here for today," Tony said, putting on his jacket properly and stumbling towards the bar, leaving two hundred dollar notes behind. "Keep the change, Lou, I'll take the bottle."

Just as he had walked in, well, with a drunken state in his body, he walked out. The door closed behind him, to which Tony then made a difficult attempt to descend the stairs without holding onto the railing at the same time as he pulled the keys to the Porsche out of his back pocket. The five metres to the car seemed like an eternity trying to maintain a dignified posture as he fought against the spinning of his head, but it was just as he was about to open the driver's door that a presence pulled him back.

"I'm not going to let you take the car in this state," Tony smiled broadly with arrogance as he sensed your presence behind him. "I don't want to go to another funeral tomorrow."

"I think your date would love to attend."

His mood was completely bipolar, a minute ago he might have been able to throw Hammer out the window, right now his arrogance was winning the day. Reluctantly you snatched the keys from his hands, heading for the passenger door while holding Tony by the arm.

"Just like that? Honey, I knew how much you loved my car and how much fun we had, but..." a half smile, his half smile that drove you so crazy, both in the positive and negative sense came across Tony's face.

"Shut the fuck up, get in the car and let me take you home so I can sleep soundly tonight," your voice sounded stiff and angry.

"Why don't you stay?" whispered Tony in a poor attempt to show seduction, as his voice sounded drunk and gave off a strong smell of alcohol. "Although I can't promise it's going to be a quiet night."

Your mood wasn't prepared to put up with Tony's nonsense, let alone in his state, so you pushed his head towards the inside of the car. From there, Tony could watch as you said goodbye to Justin, to whom you handed the bottle of Whiskey he had admirably taken from Tony without him even noticing, and then climbed in beside him.

"Tell me the truth, you and Justin Hammer?" the laughter of Tony flooded the place as you started the car. "How quickly you forget the hard knocks of the past."

"You have no idea..." you whispered wryly to yourself.

"Honey, I think you can do better than that," the arrogance was in his voice, which reminded you of times gone by.

You listened to his comments in silence, keeping your eyes on the road, avoiding getting into a stupid argument with someone who was drunk and barely able to cope with the many feelings he had.

"I recognise that look, you're angry," he continued, breaking the silence. "I know, I get it, I've ruined your date tonight. Although I must admit it didn't look very stimulating from the outside, but I'm not one to judge."

"Exactly," you mused.

"I was quite surprised though, I thought that by now you and Steve... well you know, that you would be together, after everything that happened..." those words from Tony caused your right foot to stop dead in its tracks at that instant.

"After what happened?!" the disbelief was in your eyes. "Alright... Look Tony, you're nobody to show up here after three and a half years of showing no signs of life and barge into other people's lives to judge them. So shut your mouth and let me take you home quietly."

Those words of Tony's had struck a chord within you, your eyes became watery.

"You know I didn't come back because I wanted to," Tony said seriously. "But don't worry, I'll disappear from here tomorrow."

"Great. It's what you do best."

Instantly you regretted what you had said. The ride to the Stark residence continued in silence, neither of us taking it upon ourselves to break it. Tony kept his head leaning against the window, eyes closed, head lolling slightly against the glass, but strangely he had found comfort in the position. As you walked into the garden you got out of the car without so much as a glance at her, slamming the door which was what seemed to wake him up and let him know you had reached your destination.

"You know where the phone is," Tony reported, opening the car door and clumsily getting out.

It seemed like hours before he reached the front door, found the keys, managed to choose the right key, inserted it into the lock and opened it. In the kitchen the phone was waiting for you, you were lucky that there was a phone book and it didn't take you long to find the number of the taxi service. In the meantime Tony dropped his body on the sofa.

"The taxi won't be long, I'd better wait for it at the entrance," you approached him.

"Great," Tony said impassively.

The room was spinning around inside Tony's head, he kept his eyes open and staring at the ceiling, it was funny, he thought, he used to get drunk regularly at college parties, but this seemed to have affected him as if he had never tasted alcohol before.

"You know," Tony said without looking at you. "There was always the idea in the back of my mind that things could have been otherwise, if it hadn't been for..."

"Don't finish the sentence. Or you know you'll regret saying it tomorrow," you stopped your steps, as you were already heading to leave, and turned around to look at him. "Look, I don't know what you want Tony. I don't know what you want me to say, and I don't know what you're looking for by stirring up the past with your words. I understand it's been a hard day, maybe the hardest day, and I can't come to grips with what you might be going through," you knelt down beside him. "If you need my help, I've told you before, you know where I am, but please let's not make this night any more complicated," your words were soft, so soft that Tony turned his gaze to you.

There you were again, on that couch, Tony lying down, you kneeling next to him, looking at each other, neither of you would have ever thought that scene could ever happen. Your words were tender, you felt vulnerable in front of him at that moment, and all he really needed was someone to show him affection, even though he didn't know it.

"The last thing I want right now is to argue with you," you whispered, ducking your face. "I'm sorry for yelling at you in the car earlier, and I'm sorry for what I said. I don't want my last memory of you to be like that."

It had been years since the two of you had been within such close distance of each other. Tony found that despite the haircut, your appearance had hardly changed. That mole under his left eye was still there, and the rosy cheeks you'd gotten from the cold still gave him a glimpse of the field of freckles that covered them. The small scar on your chin, which you got when you fell off your bike because he had thrown the football in your direction, was also there. A shudder came over you, causing you to quickly get up from that position and regain your composure, as a hundred memories seemed to come flooding back. Tony made an attempt to sit up, but at that moment the horn of a car saved the situation.

"Oh!" you looked at Tony and pointed to the front door. "I'd better go, I.... Goodnight Tony."

"Goodnight..." mused Tony watching you leave.

Silence took over the house again after the front door closed following your departure. Tony stood there, staring at the emptiness you had left for the second time in him, thinking of a title for your whole story.

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