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scuttling · 3 years

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If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,�� you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #prompt #request

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years

Text

Huan x female airbender Part Three (last part)

Part one here

Part two here

Tagged: @feitansrisingsun @sirkekselord @sillytimetravelcomputer @linrailme I tagged people who asked for a part three :)

----

You and Huan travel to the firelord’s palace for his appointment with firelord Izumi but another firelord decides to crash your appointment...following the meeting you and Huan get into an argument that ends the trip in a way you did not expect

You and Huan arrived in the firenation a week later and you grinned as Huan stared at everything like a tourist. Wanting to impress him you took the flashy route home to where your mother was waiting. It was the first time Huan had met her and you knew he was nervous given your dad’s attitude to him but he needn’t have been. Your mom had heard all your stories about Huan and greeted him with a large hug as if he was already family, sincerely congratulated him on his appointment with the firelord and enquired after his favourite meal so she could make it for him all within a minute of meeting him. Huan saw where you got your kindness from.

You were slightly worried your small fire nation home would seem quaint in comparison to Huan’s mansion but he seemed oddly entranced by it. You saw him examining everything curiosly, from the handprints on the wall from when you decided to paint the wall when you were 3 and your dad joined in to the bizarre overgrown flower maze your dad called a garden. As Huan was looking around the *kitchen* that was really more of a culinary laboratory for you mom to experiment with new recipes you worried compared to his efficient home this would all be odd to him. You watched his face for any sign of confusion or dislike but couldn’t read his expression. When Huan held up a cup you’d made out of clay when you were 8 you burst “so what do you think?”. “Honestly I think your clay modelling needs work” he joked and you smiled “no of my home...will it be okay for you? I know it’s not Zafou but...”. “Not Zafou? y/n your homes lovely!”. “But you don’t think it’s....” you hit your head on plans your father had hung from the ceiling and frowned “messy and disorganised?”. You knew Huan’s father kept all his research in his laboratory, not on the living room ceiling. Huan smirked and shook his head “no i like all this because it’s so you” he smiled “the warm colours! The personal touches crammed everywhere! The fancy artifacts used as vases” Huan smirked noticing the firenation vase your father had been given which your mom used to hold cooking utensils “it’s the exact embodiment of you I love it” Huan finished and you blushed. “Well that’s...not what I was expecting” you commented and Huan smiled “I can tell by how red you’ve gone, I like when I make you blush”. You blushed even deeper and Huan laughed making you roll your eyes. “Come on i’ll show you your room” you said attempting to distract him but Huan continued chuckling as he followed you upstairs.

Given the fact the meeting was early tomorrow morning you ate and got an early night before setting out for the palace. You and Huan gave your names and were taken through so many coridoors you lost count before eventually being shown into a room with a desk and some sofas. "Wow this place is...". "I know, i thought you were rich" you smirked and Huan smiled but you could tell he was nervous. "Don’t worry it'll be fine, if Iroh recommended it i bet the firelord's all for it". "Have you ever met her before?" Huan asked and you shrugged "a few times at fire nation parties, my dad and her were friends as kids, then he mentored her son Iroh when he joined the army. Iroh was always around our home, he actually babysat me as a kid". Huan paused "the future firelord was your babysitter?". You paused before nodding "i guess, he was always just Iroh to us...his parents wanted him to live as much like a normal teenager as possible so he'd babysit me once a month, kind of hard to think of someone as a prince when they make you food and play doll houses with you". Huan smirked and you smiled "but i’ve met firelord Izumi quiet a few times, and firelord Zuko and Mai once or twice at really formal events". Huan nodded slightly reassured and you touched his arm "it'll be okay i promise". Huan wanted to point out how you had no way of knowing for sure but he didn’t, he just smiled and put a hand over your hand on his arm.

The door opened and you both tensed. You jumped up turned to the leader of the fire nation "Firelord izumi" you said bowing low and Huan followed your lead. "Thank you but there is no need for that" she called "you are my guests" she said showing you a warm smile. You smiled back and she stepped closer to you both "y/n it is so lovely to see you again, how are you parents?". "They are well thank you ma’m" you smiled. “Your father an airbender...I bet he’s making a unique mark on the air nation”. “He is” you laughed “my uncle Tenzin is not too pleased with him”. Izumi smiled fondly "That sounds just like your father” before she turned to Huan “and how are you Huan? We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting before but my son was very impressed with you, how is your mother?". "My mother?" Huan asked "you know her?". "Well i haven’t see Su since we were children but i am fond of her" she smiled "you know my parents and your grandparents were close friends don’t you". You and Huan nodded "of course". Izumi smiled "that is why when my son told me about you Huan I knew I had to meet you. I've been wanting to freshen up the place and who better than such close friends?". You and Huan were slightly speechless but Izumi smiled "so please sit and we will discuss what i have planned". You had just gotten into the plans and areas Izumi wanted art work for when the door opened. Deespite neither of you having been around him much you both recognised the former firelord on sight. "Firelord Zuko" you and Huan gasped and you both rushed to stand and bow. "No no! You are my oldest friends children" he smiled "you do not bow to me". You and Huan blushed and smiled. "It is so nice to see you both here" he smiled coming to stand right in front of you. He searched your faces and smiled "y/n you look just like Aang but I see the hint of Sokka and Katara in you too and Huan....well you just eminate Toph energy" he grinned "it is so nice to see you both, it’s like having a mini Aang and Toph in the palace again..i am so pleased our bloodlines are still linked together". You and Huan smiled glancing at one another "it seems they always have a having of intertwining" you commented and Zuko laughed. "That they do! Now Izumi please continue" Zuko said taking a seat “pretend i’m not even here”. You and Huan smirked at the very idea and Izumi smiled fondly before turning back to your both “so the question isn’t if we want you but when can you start Huan?”.

---

You walked down the palace steps an hour later a buzz about what had just happened. Huan had been hired to comission the palace! The palace! Izumi had given him almost full artistic freedom and a mass amount of money and resources. She had set him no time limit, her only condition was she wanted to announce him as her royal artist and keep him in her books for future works. It was an amazing first job as an artist and more than many got in a lifetime. You were chatting away about how proud of Huan you were when he stopped walking and grabbed your hands. You looked at him confused as Huan grabbed you and kissed you. Huan never liked PDA or being overly affectionate but here he was kissing you infront of the whole fire nation. It wasn’t a quick kiss either, it was the longest kiss you’d ever had and Huan had initiated it. You finally seperated for breath and Huan looked at you "thank you" he smiled "for getting me here, for being my girlfriend, for coming into my life" he smiled stroking your cheek "i...you..". You smiled Huan’s energy running low and took his hand "i know". Huan smiled at you gratefully and pulled you into his chest hugging you. You wrapped your arms around him slotting into him and smiled. You looked up and noticed huan was bright red which was hard with his tanned skin but none the less adorable. "Come on" you smiled seperating from him and tugging his hand "my mom will want to hear the good news!".

Your mom was thrilled and said you should celebrate. You agreed and took Huan to one of the best resturants in the capital. You covered the bill, despite the fact Huan was filthy rich, and just enjoyed treating yourselves ordering everything and anything you wanted. You’d both dressed nicely and you were determined to make this a special occasion and it became one...but for reasons you weren’t expecting.

Huan loved when you dressed up but also couldn’t help but feel nervous or lesser beside you. He knew he was punching dating you but that was most apparent when you went places looking stunning and Huan wore all black or dark green floor length outfits. It was more noticable you were an odd match in moments like this and although you never seemed to notice Huan knew that couldn't be said for other people. Case in point, on your way home you were walking hand in hand back to your house and passed some men. Huan saw their eyes fall on you in that dress and sure enough their heads turned. They were so busy staring at you they didn’t even notice Huan’s glares for a few seconds. When they noticed him they did a double take at your joint hands, clearly thinking the two of you didn’t match. Huan glared at them his muscles tightening and you felt his arm contract. "Huan?" you asked glancing at where he was looking and saw he was staring at some men. "Huan?" You repeated "are you okay?". Huan nodded snapping his head back around "i’m fine". You frowned seeing Huan was angry but didn’t want to press it out in the open.

You got home and found your mom was out meaning you had the house to yourself. You and Huan settled in your room and you took off your jewellery and shoes while watching Huan worriedly. He hadn’t said a word since those men and was just sat staring into space as he expanded his metal bracelet and back again. You frowned and now in private decided to approach the topic. "Huan?" you asked laying a hand on his arm "are you okay?". Huan sighed but nodded "i’m fine". "Because you seem kinda...". "It’s nothing" he said but he’d raised his voice and you frowned "what did those men do?". Huan sighed "it’s not just them it’s everyone". You frowned "but those men must’ve done something to make...". "Yes they did but they’re not the only ones" Huan sighed "everyone does what those guys do when they see us together". You paused sensing this wouldn’t be good but still had to ask "and what’s that?". "They stare, mainly at you first and then they notice me there too and do a double take that you’re even with someone like me, i see them question it on their face, how is he with her?". You touched Huan’s arm again but he shook his head turning away from you "no i get it, i don’t need pity y/n i ask myself that too". “Huan but i...”. “Yeah you like me” Huan sighed “but that doesn’t change the fact you shouldn’t, we just don’t match! We’re complete opposites and it makes me wonder how long before you’ll find someone better and...”. “Huan!”. “No it’s okay honestly I’m just pleased we had this much time together”. "That’s enough" you snapped and Huan’s gaze shot back around confused to hear you raise your voice "what?". "I usually don't say anything because i know you’re just a realist but i won’t let you talk about yourself this way Huan!". Huan paused "but it’s true". "No you think it’s true because of what we’ve been taught but it’s not! Looks don’t count for shit Huan! Some people might think we look odd together but i don’t care, why would i care? I think you’re amazing, smart, funny, hot and care about me...why would i care what anyone else says or thinks? All i care about is what you think of us and I don't want you ever feeling like you have something to prove to me Huan, ever! In my eyes you’re amazing and i see you that way, i see how lucky i am to have you and when i look at you i just want to..." you trailed off and seeing the way Huan was looking at you just kissed him. Huan kissed you back but you could tell he was still hesitant. "You really don’t see how out of my league you are?". You shook your head not moving your face away from his "not at all, were equal you and i, i like you and you like me, what else matters?". "Nothing" Huan agreed and kissed you again. You smiled and kissed him again "you're incredible Huan, you need more confidence, if you could only see yourself how i see you" you sighed and Huan stared up at you "you're just perfection" and kissed him again. Usually you’d break away pretty early on but you didn’t want to this time and neither did Huan. Things progressed further than they ever had but Huan hesitated as you didn't show a sign of wanting to stop. "Y/n are you sure you want to...with me?' you paused but nodded blushing "yes but if you aren’t ready then that’s okay..." you started when Huan kissed you pushing you back down "no i just wanted to make sure you weren’t just doing this for...". You flipped Huan and pushed his shoulders down "i’m doing this because i want to, not because i want to make you feel better or because i feel bad, but because i find you incredibly attractive and i want this". Huan redenned but his eyes sparked “okay”.

***

"Do you believe me?" you asked Huan afterwards and he nodded "yes". You smiled against his chest as his arms tightenned around you. "Good" you smiled kissing his neck, the only part of him you could reach without having to move. "You’re brilliant Huan and i am completely infatuated with you". Huan nuzzled his head against yours and sighed happily “I am too”.

The next morning

You woke up with a jolt and Huan woke up too feeling you jump. "What’s wrong?" he asked and you smiled "nothing...i just wondered where we were". Huan smiled seeing how good you looked beside him and for once thought you fit. He kissed your forehead and smiled "we’re in heaven". You laughed and relaxed back against him "no but we did have an undistrubed night which is odd, my mother must’ve assumed you were in your room and luckily didn’t check". Haun nodded "lucky, very lucky". You grinned and pulled the covers over you two. "Are you cold?" Huan asked and you shook your head "no this way i can forget where we are, it’s just us". Huan smiled and nodded "that’s all i need".

When you finally couldn’t hide anymore you sauntered downstairs for breakfast while Huan went to shower. You mother was sat at the table and greeted you warmly. You ate together chatting happily before your mother smiled “ow i have news! Your father’s coming home tomorrow". You smiled pleased and went to ask when his ship was getting in when your mom continued. "So make sure Huan stays in the guest room tomorrow night". You almost chocked on your breakfast and swallowed with some effort "i’m sorry?". "I’m not stupid y/n" your mother said raising an eyebrow "i know Huan didn’t sleep in his own bed last night". You paled "we...we were...". "It’s okay, you’re both adults just be safe, i trust both of you". "You do?" you asked and your mother nodded "i’ve seen the way he is around you, he’s a sweet boy and i trust him with you, i like him for you". Huan walked into the room and saw the way you and your mother stopped as he entered. "What?" he asked startled and you smiled shaking your head "nothing" and just smiled up at him. You took a moment to just admire Huan in your kitchen, his long dark hair still damp moving as he talked. His goregous green eyes watching you as he pulled a signature frown at your behaviour. Huan was obviously very confused but ignored it and sat down next to you. You entwined your hands and Huan smiled "what’s gotten you so happy?". You sighed and shook your head "nothing in particular". Huan raised an eyebrow but smiled and held your hand tighter.

Epilogue

Huan stayed in the fire nation with you for many years to complete the palace renovation and afterwards decided to settle down in the fire nation permanently. He found the fire nation a perfect place for his modern art and was soon one of the biggests influences of your generation. You carried on your air bending, working as a representative of the air nation for the fire nation along side your father. You and Huan rented an excellently furnished and decorated apartment in the city and later when your duties reduced moved out to the colonies. Neither of you wanted children and instead invested in many cats and dogs, which you loved as dearly as children. Your home was constantly bustling with your and Huan’s family, your father was always popping, your cousins visiting whenever they got annoyed by one another and atleast one of Huan’s siblings was always around. You loved feeling like part of a big family but also love the quiet days where it was just you and Huan curled up infront of the fire. Huan never questioned your match again because he couldn’t. He knew something that felt this perfect had to be just that, perfect.

____

So this is my last part of this Huan series! Thanks for all your support, I never intended to do a part two let alone a whole series so thanks for encouraging me! I hope you like it :)

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

#eve fletcher x reader #mrs fletcher #eve fletcher

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terramythos · 3 years

Text

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 10 of 26

Title: The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890)

Author: Oscar Wilde

Genre/Tags: Fiction, Gothic Horror, Third-Person, LGBT Protagonist (I... guess)

Rating: 8/10

Date Began: 4/13/2021

Date Finished: 4/20/2021

When artist Basil Hallward paints a picture of the beautiful and innocent Dorian Gray, he believes he’s created his masterpiece. Seeing himself on the canvas, Dorian wishes to remain forever young and beautiful while the portrait ages in his stead. The bargain comes true. While Dorian grows older and descends a path of hedonism and moral corruption, his portrait changes to reflect his true nature while his physical body remains eternally youthful. As his debauchery grows worse, and the portrait warps to reflect his corruption, Dorian’s past begins to catch up to him.

Perhaps one never seems so much at one’s ease as when one has to play a part. Certainly no one looking at Dorian Gray that night could have believed that he had passed through a tragedy as horrible as any tragedy of our age. Those finely-shaped fingers could never have clutched a knife for sin, nor those smiling lips have cried out on God and goodness. He himself could not help wondering at the calm of his demeanour, and for a moment felt keenly the terrible pleasure of a double life.

Full review, some spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Misogyny (mostly satirical). Racism and antisemitism (not so much). Emotional manipulation, blackmail, suicide, graphic murder, and death. Recreational drug use.

Reviewing a classic novel through a modern lens is always going to be a challenge for me. The world seems to change a lot every decade, let alone every century—whether some canonized classic holds up today is pretty hit or miss (sorry, English degree). And considering the sheer amount of academic focus on classic texts, it’s not like I’m going to have a “fresh take” on one for a casual review. I read and reviewed The Count of Monte Cristo last year, and thought it aged remarkably well over 170+ years.

Somehow I never read Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray for school. I tried reading it independently in my late teens/early twenties, and honestly think I was just too stupid for it. Needing a shorter read before the next Murderbot book releases at the end of the month, I grabbed Dorian Gray off the shelf and decided to give it another shot. By the end, I was pleasantly surprised how much I liked the book.

I’m actually going to discuss my pain points before I get into what worked for me. The first half of the book is very slow-paced. The Picture of Dorian Gray is famous for… well… the picture. But it isn’t relevant until the halfway point of the novel, when Dorian does something truly reprehensible and finds his image in the picture has changed. There’s a lot of setup before this discovery. The first half of the book has a lot of fluff, with characters talking about stuff that happened off screen, discussing various philosophies, and so on without progressing the story. Some of this is fine, as it establishes Dorian’s initial character so the contrast later is all the more striking. I just think it could have been shorter. I realize this comes down to personal taste.

I’m also torn on the Wilde’s writing style. He’s very clever, and there are many philosophical ideas in his writing that did genuinely made me stop and think. The prose is also beautiful and descriptive; this is especially useful when it contrasts the horror elements of the story. However, there’s a lot of unnatural, long monologue in the story. Not sure if it’s the time period, Wilde’s background as a playwright, or just his writing style in general (maybe all three), but the characters ramble a LOT. My favorite game was trying to imagine how other characters were reacting to a literal wall of text.

I also feel the need to mention this book has some bigoted content, as implied in my content warnings. The misogyny in the story is satirical; it’s spouted by the biggest tool in the book, Lord Henry, whose whole shtick is being paradoxical. You just need basic critical thought to figure that out. However, some things don’t have that excuse. A minor character in the first half is an obvious anti-Semitic caricature. There’s also some pretty racist content, particularly when Wilde describes Gray’s musical instrument collection. While these are small parts of the book, it’d be disingenuous not to acknowledge them.

All that being said, there were many aspects of the book I enjoyed, particularly in the second half. Wilde does a great job characterizing terrible people who fully believe what they say. Lord Henry is an obvious example, and Dorian follows his lead as the story progresses. One of my favorite bits was after Sibyl’s suicide (which Dorian instigated by being a piece of shit). Dorian is initially shocked, but as he and Lord Henry discuss it, they come to the conclusion that her suicide was a good thing because it had thematic merit. It’s just such a brazen, horrible way to alleviate one’s guilt.

Dorian also goes to significant lengths to justify his actions. At one point, he murders Basil to keep the portrait a secret. While he briefly feels guilty about this, Dorian grows angry at the inconvenience of having killed this man, supposedly an old friend. He even separates himself from the situation, expressing that Basil died in such a horrible way. Bro, you killed him! It was you! The cognitive dissonance is just stunning.

It’s also viscerally satisfying to read about Dorian’s downfall as his awful choices catch up to him. Dorian becoming tormented by the portrait is just... *chef’s kiss*. Is it surprising? No, it’s pretty standard Gothic horror fare. But there’s something to be said about seeing a genuinely horrible man finally pay for what he’s done after getting away with it for so long. I wish real life worked that way.

There’s the picture itself, too. I know it’s The Thing most people know about this novel -- but I just think it’s a cool concept. I like the idea of someone’s likeness reflecting their true self, and the psychological effect it has on the subject. Most of the novel is fiction with realistic horror elements, but I like that there’s a touch of the supernatural thanks to Dorian’s picture. It’s an element I wouldn’t mind seeing in more works.

It's sad to read Dorian Gray with the context of what happened to Wilde. The homoeroticism in the novel is obvious, but tame compared to works today. Wilde and this book are a depressing case study in how queer people are simultaneously erased and reviled in recent history. Wilde was tortured for his homosexuality (and died from resulting health complications) over 100 years ago, yet the 1994 edition of Dorian Gray I read refers to his real homosexual relationship as a "close friendship". It's an infuriating and tragic paradox. Things have improved by inches, but we still have so far to go.

As I grow older I find I appreciate classic works more than when I was forced to read them for school. The Picture of Dorian Gray is a gripping Gothic horror story. Some aspects didn't age particularly well, but that's true for almost anything over time. If you're in the market for this kind of book, I do recommend it.

#this review is late but in my defense the nier remake came out #taylor reads #2021 reading challenge #8/10

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1-800-sunset · 4 years

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Dabihawks/Toukei Pride and Prejudice Au

Keigo Takami lived in an orphanage all his life in Netherfield Park. The orphanage doubled as a farm that raised livestock and crops. The orphanage itself was run by Inko Midoriya. Even after his 18th birthday Keigo decided to continue to stay there and work for Inko to help keep the orphanage afloat. He was not the only one who stayed behind to help, his best friend Rumi who also grew up in the orphanage worked right beside him. The kids that stayed were tight knit and like a small ragtag family. Izuku, Inko’s son, spent all of his childhood alongside the other orphans around his age like Fumikage, Eijiro, and Uruaka, at this point they were all 18. Rumi and Keigo were more like the young kids’ older siblings, them being 24. Inko loved them all just like they herself but often wished they would start to venture and explore what's out there.

One day there is talk throughout Netherfield that some of Lord Enji Todoroki’s children and Tenko Shimura were going to attend the ball that was going to take place. A ball that the entire neighborhood was invited. The rumors were that Tenko was looking to buy property in Netherfield and decided to bring along some of Enji’s kids. Keigo and Rumi alongside Inko, Izuku and the rest of their little family attended the ball. Keigo, Izuku, and Rumi loved to dance and did so without second thoughts until they realized how most of the room had stopped to stare at three newcomers that stood out. They definitely looked higher class by the looks of their clothing. So they just had to be Shimura and the Todorokis. Rumi leaned over to Keigo to explain to him that the one with the light blue hair and red eyes was Tenko. The other two were the Todorokis. Touya was the older one with the quizzical brow flaming red hair and blue eyes. The younger Todoroki was named Shoto and had split hair between the red hair matching his brother and snowy white, eyes heterochromatic one gray and one blue. Scar surrounding the blue eye. Keigo could not help but notice the way Izuku looked at Shoto, he looked dare he say entranced. He could not help to comment to Rumi that Touya looked so bored and such a stick in the mud to which Rumi laughed and agreed with him. Ururaka somehow dragged Izuku and motioned Rumi and Keigo to join her to introduce themselves to the newcomers. Shoto looked excited to be around other people and was overall polite while Tenko and Touya seemed to stick to their own business. This rubbed Keigo the wrong way. They seemed like two overly proud and aloof people.

Shoto certainly takes a liking to Izuku and they dance twice but when they aren’t dancing they seem to talk and simply connect. Keigo from afar noticed their connection. Next to him stood tall aloof Touya. So he decided to ask him if he liked dancing as a way to see if he was willing to dance instead of sticking to the sidelines. Touya responded by saying he doesn’t dance if he could help it. Keigo tears away from him to meet up once again with Rumi. The two hide away to talk then hear Shoto and Touya walking by. Shoto speaks of his newly found adoration for Izuku and even calls him handsome. Touya agrees that Izuku is in fact handsome but Shoto also states that Keigo is as well. Touya only responds that Keigo is not handsome enough to tempt him. Rumi and Keigo scoff at his attitude but look on the bright side that if Touya did like him he would have to speak to him. Keigo says he wouldn't dance with him for all of Derbyshire let alone the half that Todorokis own. Inko, Izuku and Keigo all speak with Shoto about how much he seems to like it here with Touya by his side. Inko notices the way the two look at each other and begins to say how Izuku is single and how once a girl named Himiko wrote him poetry upon poetry. Keigo sees how bringing up Himiko was bringing Izuku’s mood down so he states that poetry is really not the way to win someone over.

“I thought that poetry was the food of love.” Touya asked an eyebrow raised at the notion that Keigo did not seem to think poetry was romantic.

“ Well poetry is beautiful yes but it could be vague and not really prove how deep one’s love really is. So one poor sonnet will kill those feelings stone dead.”

“So what do you recommend to encourage affection?”

“Dancing. Even if one’s partner is barely tolerable.” Keigo says his lips turning into a smile before bowing and turning his back on the group to go to the dance floor.

That night Izuku rambled so much about Shoto, Keigo reassures him that it seems mutual. Keigo says how he always thinks the best of people. Izuku states how he can’t believe what Touya said about Keigo. Keigo says it’s fine and he doubts they will ever speak again.

Over breakfast Izuku gets a letter from Tenko that he would like to invite Izuku to eat with them. Izuku accepts the invitation and takes the horse seeing how far their place is from Tenko’s. Not long after Izuku leaves it starts to rain, making Izuku stay the night with the Todorokis and Tenko. Izuku however catches a cold and has to have an extended stay. Keigo gets news of this and goes to the place the Todorokis and Tenko are staying by foot.

Tenko and Touya are having tea when Keigo arrives. Touya stands up immediately to greet Keigo while Tenko asks if he walked here seeing how his boots and trousers were all muddy. Keigo says he did and was here to see Izuku. Touya tells him Izuku is upstairs. Even after Keigo leaves the room to see Izuku, Touya is still standing there having noticed that Keigo’s eyes were in fact golden like honey. Only being able to say that he has “fine eyes”. Shoto joins Keigo and Izuku for a while as the two speak. Keigo thanks Shoto for letting Izuku stay while he gathers his strength again. Shoto says that it has been his pleasure to look after Izuku.

Once Izuku falls back to sleep, Keigo and Shoto join Touya and Tenko in the parlor. Tenko notes how it’s been awhile since he has talked to Natsou and Fuyumi as Keigo reads in peace. Until Tenko states how accomplished both Fuyumi and Natsou are in their hobbies. Touya says that he can only think of a few people who truly earn that title. For a person to earn the title in Touya’s book that had to have an extensive knowledge of dancing, music, languages, and literature. Literature to help improve his own mind. Keigo shuts his books and says he has never met such a person, believing him to be too perfect. Touya argues back that if he is so harsh on all people, Keigo replies that a person like that existed they would be quite a force of nature. Tenko and Keigo tease Touya for being too serious and Keigo wants to laugh but Tenko tells him Touya hates to be laughed at. Touya says once someone loses his good graces they are lost forever. Keigo finds that pretty reasonable. Rumi with a carriage eventually comes to pick up Izuku and Keigo. It is her that gives Shoto the idea to throw a ball. Although Touya is quick to say if there would be people of all classes. To which Shoto states that no one should be excluded and everyone who wishes to come shall be allowed. Keigo scowls at Touya, swearing to loathe him.

Keigo was last to board the carriage but required a little help up. Touya offered his hand to act as a rail. Leaving Keigo a bit confused as to why Touya would offer such help.

That evening Inko receives news that Tenya Iida, a childhood friend of Izuku, was visiting. The reason for his visit was to see how they were all doing. As well as seek a potential partner. He worked with Lord Enji Todoroki and the Lord felt it was time for Tenya to settle down before getting more responsibility. Upon reuniting with Izuku and the others, Tenya has a crush on Ochako since childhood and decided to pursue her.

The day of the ball Keigo wears a white loose shirt with delicate ruching, white trousers and matching boots. Rumi decorated his blonde hair with small pearls claiming they pulled the look together. Touya looked for Keigo. Keigo beforehand Rumi vowed to never dance with Touya. Tenya spent the evening trying to woo Ochako and slightly succeeding.

Touya eventually corners Keigo with Rumi and asks Keigo to dance. Keigo wants to refuse but finds himself saying yes. As the two dance Keigo brings up the comment he made about the mix of classes. Obvious disdain in his voice. Touya doesn’t deny it but asks why he brings it up. Keigo states to try and make out his character. They two wordlessly continue the dancing focusing only on each other. After the song is over Keigo runs off by himself trying to figure out why he would say yes to such an arrogant man in the first place.

Izuku gets shy and nervous around Shoto and can’t bring himself to be bold enough to stay around Shoto for too long. Or else he would become a red muttering mess. Shoto didn’t seem to mind was was still enamored by the green haired boy with matching eyes. Touya sees this and assumes that Izuku does not seem to like his brother as much as Shoto does. His mind says Izuku is probably only fooling around with Shoto to get higher up on the social ladder. And his brother is too blind to even notice.

The next week passes and Tenya and Ochako get engaged making Inko incredibly happy for the both of them. Izuku however gets a letter from Shoto that he, Touya and Tenko were moving back to London and as well their respective estates. Izuku was heartbroken and devastated. Keigo was determined to not let Izuku be this upset and told him to go after Shoto. So Keigo helped Izuku pack a suitcase. Keigo would be damned if these two who obviously cared for each other. Something in his gut told him Touya probably had something to do with it.

Since Izuku is gone Ochako invites Keigo to come to her new home on the Todoroki estate in Rosings Park with Tenya. Ochako is happy to be married and has a great deal of affection for her new husband which makes Keigo incredibly proud and happy for her. Although the estate belongs to the Todoroki family Keigo doubted that Touya would be there since it was heard that he was in London. Upon Keigo’s Arrival Enji Todoroki arrived at his estate and invited them for dinner. Lord Enji introduces himself and Keigo introduces himself and lurking in the background is Touya. Which surprises Keigo.

“Touya? What are you doing here?”

“ Keigo, I am a guest here.”

To Tenya and Ochako this was a normal exchange but Enji could not wrap his head around how those two know each other. From what he was told Keigo was of a lower class and an orphan with no family lineage no less. Touya was glad to see Keigo once again but remained aloof. Alongside him was a white haired man with gray eyes.

“You know my son?”

“Yes sir, I have had the pleasure of meeting your son in Hertfordshire.”

The man with white stepped up and bowed before the three to introduce himself as Natsou Todoroki. Enji’s third oldest and Touya’s brother. Keigo noted the distinct hatred in Touya’s blue eyes towards his father.

Keigo finds himself sitting next to Touya at the dinner table because Enji forbids Ochako and Tenya from sitting next to each other claiming it would be distracting. Touya asks him if his family was in good health to which Keigo responded that they were doing well.

“Do you play the pianoforte, Mr. Takami?” Enji asked, drawing away Keigo’s attention from Touya. Touya scowled and glared at his father.

“A little sir and very poorly.”

Enji continues to ask more questions that get more intrusive and belittling until Touya slams down a fist on the table telling Enji to stop. Keigo does not hold his tongue and snaps back answers. He does but notes how Touya was so quick to defend. After dinner Enji asks Keigo to play for them. Keigo insists that it’s not false modesty; he truly doesn’t play the piano well. But Keigo despite knowing full well that Lord Enji is doing it to put him in his place as someone lesser. He plays the best he can. In the background Enji asks Touya how Fuyumi is doing and how her piano is playing . And Touya responds with a simple fine.

“I hope she practices. No excellence can be acquired without constant practice.” Was all Enji gruff out.

Touya walks towards the piano determined to speak with Keigo properly.

“You nearly frightened me Touya by coming here to hear me, but I would be scared even if your sister does play well.”

“I am well enough acquainted with you, Keigo, to know that I can’t really scare you even if I wanted to.”

“So what was my brother like in Hertfordshire?” A new voice joined in. It was Natsou. Keigo stopped playing to focus on him.

“You really care to know? Prepare yourself for something dreadful. The first time I saw him at the ball he danced with nobody at all and stayed along the sidelines with a cold stare.”

“I knew no one besides my own party”

“Oh and no one could be introduced in a ballroom?”

Enji called for Natsou to join him back, leaving Touya and Keigo alone once again. Before started to play again Touya interrupted the silence between them.

“I do not have the talent of easily conversing with people I have never met before “

“Perhaps you should take your Father’s advice and practice.”

Touya leaves Keigo but continues to stare at him.

The next day Touya barges in the Iida house while Keigo is writing a letter to Izuku. Keigo is confused as to why and stands to greet him and offer him a seat. He tells him that Tenya and Ochako had gone to do business in the village. Touya blurts out how charming the house is and understands why Tenya liked it so much. The two simply look at each other before Keigo offers Touya some tea to which he declines. When hearing the door click open alerting the both of them that Ochako and Tenya were back, Touya bid farewell to Keigo and briskly left his cheeks slightly rosy. Ochako upon seeing this asks Keigo what on earth has he done to poor Touya. Keigo hasn't a clue on what just happened.

The next day in the garden while reading Keigo finds Natsou and starts conversation with him. He asks him how long Natsou is staying in Kent and he says as long as Touya is. Keigo remarks how it seems how everyone seems to be at Touya’s disposal and worries for whoever he marries. Natsou says whoever he does marry would be lucky and explains that his brother is a very loyal companion. Further telling how he heard Touya saved their little brother Shoto from an imprudent marriage. The reasons being that the one that had Shoto’s affections was his lack of interest. It started to rain and Keigo ran from the garden heading towards a safe place to be protected from the rain. When Keigo thought he was alone he turned to find Touya had followed him.

“Keigo I have struggled in vain and could no longer bear it.These past months have been a torment. I have come to Rosings with the single objective of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my father’s better judgment and his expectations , your inferior class and no lineage, my birthright all of these things. And I am willing to put them aside to ask you to end my suffering.”

“I don’t understand”

“I love you, most ardently.”

The blush on Touya’s face grew. Keigo was in disbelief at this man. How dare he throw all that out the window for him but not for Izuku. Anger is what Keigo felt.

“Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.”

“Sir. I appreciate the struggle you have been through and I am most sorry to have caused you pain, it wasn’t my intention.”

“Is this your reply?”

“Yes, sir”

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No”

“Are you rejecting me?”

“I am sure you will overcome and disregard your feelings.”

“Can I ask why you so easily say no like this. Am I that repulsive?”

“And I want to know why you insult me and still tell me you like me even though you said it was against your better judgment!”

“No believe me -“

“If I was uncivil that was some excuse but I have other reasons that you know I have!”

“What reasons”

“Do you think I could accept the man who has ruined Izuku’s happiness.Do you deny it, Touya? That you separated a young couple who loved each other”

“I do not deny it”

“How could you do it”

“Because I believed Mr. Midoriya is indifferent to Shoto. I watched them and realized his attachment was deeper than Mr. Midoriya’s”

“That’s because he’s shy!”

“ Shoto is modest and was persuaded that Mr. Midoriya didn’t feel strongly for him.”

“Because you suggested it.”

“I did it for his own good.”

“My brother hardly shows his true feelings to me! I suppose it had something to do with his fortune.”

“ Too many a person has tried to harm Shoto, I have to be cautious for his well being and the way Mr. Midoriya was acting. I had to be suspicious of his actions. Forgive me. I excluded you and your friend from this.”

“And what about your insults? The ones clearly directed at the less fortunate may I remind you that I am a part of. I have no fortune, no parents, no lineage yet you do not hold your tongue. You are so quick to disregard these things for me but for

Izuku you do not. At least he has more than what I have yet you deny them their happiness.”

“You think I rejoice in your circumstances. I would overlook them but your pride is not something I could.”

“My pride!? And those are the words of a gentleman! From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for others' feelings made me realize you are the last man in the world I would ever marry!”

“Forgive me, sir for taking up so much of your time.” With that Touya left Keigo alone.

Keigo later made it back to Tenya’s house, mind simply else were. Every sentence he read in his books would never stick and opted to stare out the window. At night fall Touya left a letter for Keigo.

Keigo read the letter inside Touya and told the tale of the many people who have tried to use Touya and his siblings to get money and or fame. His sister Fuyumi had a suitor last summer that proclaimed passionate love for her and tried to convince her to elope with her but when he found out in no way would he be able to touch her inheritance, he disappeared. Leaving Fuyumi heartbroken. He also told of their harsh childhood with Lord Enji. They tell the story of how Shoto got his scar from a boiling cup of tea spilled by his poor mother. Who had been forced to marry Enji and bear his heirs. A woman who was so far gone to hurt her own child who was 5 at the time. She was locked up in an entire wing of the Rosings estate. The tales of abuse left Keigo with a sour taste in his mouth. But Touya continued to apologize for his insults he said with little disregard.

Izuku and Keigo arrive at the orphanage on the same day. Izuku tells him how it’s fine that he didn’t find Shoto but London was such a nice place to visit. Keigo doesn’t tell Izuku about how it was Touya who suggested Shoto leaving. Only for Eijiro to come in to say he was invited to go to Brighton by the Bakugo family that lived across town. It was no secret that Eijiro held only son Katsuki’s affections. Izuku’s uncles Shouta and Hizashi asked Keigo and Rumi if they would like to go with them to Derbyshire. At first Keigo turns down the offer but due to Rumi’s badgering gives in. As they pass through Derbyshire, Hizashi insists on visiting Pemberley, one of the many estates belonging to the Todorokis’ . Keigo doesn’t want to go worrying that he might run into Touya once again. As fate so loves for the two to cross paths so often. Rumi assures him that she heard that Touya was in fact absent and that she heard he was in London once again. The estate itself was very beautiful. Keigo’s golden eyes mirrored some of the decorations in the mansion. Murals in full detail above them painted on the ceiling. The housemaid that was giving them the tour led them through a room filled with lovely marble statues. Keigo found himself in front of a bust of Touya. The likeness is almost uncanny. High cheekbones, slightly hooded eyes, and head full of unruly hair. Shouta asks him if the bust is true to Touya’s appearance. The housemaid asks Keigo if he knows Touya and responds with a little. Rumi hides a chuckle as he glares at her cheeks a flame. Soon enough they separate to explore different parts of the estate. Keigo finds himself in a study with an extensive library. A faint playing of piano can be heard in the room next door. The door is slightly ajar and he peeked through. He saw a lovely woman around his age with white hair and red parts woven in. Glasses framing her gray eyes. She played beautifully before stopping suddenly and shouting “Touya”. Touya had entered the room and his sister had wrapped her arms around him. Touya’s eyes met Keigo’s, in surprise Keigo ran out towards a balcony and down the stairs. He was still completely unprepared to face Touya after their last meeting. Touya followed him out, Keigo’s back leaned against the railing eyes not meeting Touya’s.

“Keigo!”

“I thought you were still in London.”

“No, no I’m not.”

“We would not have come here if-“

“I came back a day early-“

The two spoke in tandem before cutting each other off. Silence liners as Touya stares at Keigo. Words stuck in his throat, it is Keigo that begins once again.

“I am in Derbyshire with Izuku’s uncles and Rumi”

“And are you having a pleasant trip?”

“Very Pleasant. Tomorrow we got to Matlock.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Are you staying at Lambton?”

“Yes. At the Rose and Crown… I am so sorry to intrude. They said that the house was open to visitors. I had no idea.”

“May I see you back to the village?”

“No. I’m very fond of walking.”

“Yes, I know” Touya said a healthy blush on his cheeks recalling when Keigo had walked all the way just to see Izuku.

“Goodbye, Touya” Keigo said, bowing ready to leave and walked down the rest of the stairs all the way to the village.

By the time Keigo made it back it was already nightfall. As he walked into the eating area of the place Keigo, Rumi, Shouta, and Hizashi were saying a familiar head of red hair caught him by surprise. He quickly hid behind a curtained closet to peak out. Touya was talking to Shouta before leaving. When Keigo was sure Touya was gone he came out of his hiding spot to rejoin with his group. Hizashi told Keigo that they had just met Touya Todoroki, and that he had asked them to dine with him tomorrow. Rumi made the ever humorous comment that Touya wanted him to meet his sister.

The next day in the room where Keigo saw Fuyumi and Touya is we’re they found said siblings. Fuyumi played away as Touya watched. When the door opened, the pianoforte stopped playing and saw the young woman get up from her stool to greet them calling out Keigo’s name. When coming face to face Keigo and Fuyumi bowed to each other. Touya, not far behind them, introduced her. With a smirk she said that Touya had told her so much about Keigo, enough that it feels as if they are already acquainted. Rumi in the background is very focused on Fuyumi, taking in her loveliness. Keigo made a mental note to tease Rumi about that later. Keigo stated that the piano was very beautiful and that once Touya had to suffer through his playing for an entire evening. Fuyumi was shocked because Touya said he played so well.

“Then he has perjured himself most profoundly.”

“No, I said ‘played quite well’”.

“Oh quite well is not very well. I’m satisfied.”

Fuyumi looked at her brother and Keigo with a knowing look in her eyes. There was definitely a fondness between them that still went unspoken. Then she shifted her focus to Keigo’s companion. She was definitely what Fuyumi would call attractive. Touya then asked Shouta and Hizashi if they liked to test wine to which Shouta even with his monotone voice said a very enthusiastic yes. Fuyumi asked Keigo to play a duet with her to which Keigo said his playing was not nearly as good as hers and Fuyumi said she didn’t care about that. She just wanted to play a song. Keigo sheepishly accepted.

That night upon returning to the place they were staying Keigo received a letter from Izuku. That letter informed him that Eijiro in his trip to Brighton with the Bakugo family got hurt pretty bad and in his fragile state also got a cold. They all at once leave Rumi and Keigo go home to wait for Shouta and Hizashi to bring back Eijiro. Everyone at the orphanage was on edge and worried for Eijiro. They knew Katsuki would rather die than let anything else happen to Eijiro but the concern was still there. Three weeks pass by and Eijiro comes back safely with Katsuki glued by his side. They both looked much happier than they were before the trip. At the dinner table Eijiro spoke excitedly about Brighton and his adventures there. Then when talking of how he was being treated by doctors while he was injured and sick Eijiro let it slip that it was Touya who brought in some of the best doctors to help him get better. It was Keigo who picked up on that slip up and questioned Eijiro on Touya’s involvement. Eijiro cursed at himself before in a whisper explained to Keigo that Touya wanted his help to be kept secret. Later that same dinner Katsuki announced his and Eijiro’s engagement. Eijiro leaves the house that night ready to start his life with Katsuki. Keigo could have not been happier than to see someone he has known for their entire life grow up and find a place of their own.

One day while Izuku, Inko, and Keigo were out in the village there was news of Shoto coming back to Netherfield. Inko treated it with a little indifference but was still taking that information. Izuku tries to assure them that he is okay. Touyahad brought Shoto to Netherfield with the sole purpose of having Shoto go through with his plans of getting Izuku’s hand in marriage. This initially surprised Shoto because it was Touya who told him it was best to give up on Izuku even if he felt he never truly did. Everyone in the household scrambled into places trying not to cause a panic. Although Shoto and Touya were introduced in the room there was still an air of awkwardness, Izuku and Shoto looking into each other's eyes while Touya and Keigo sneaked glances at each other. Shoto in slight nervousness stepped out with Touya behind him. Outside Shoto rehearsed his proposal over and over again with Touya watching over him. When he deemed himself worthy enough Shoto walked back inside and requested a private audience with Izuku alone. Shoto apologized to Izuku for the way he acted towards him. As well as he professed his love and asked for his hand in marriage. Izuku with waterfalls streaming down his freckled face accepted. Inko, Rumi, Keigo, and Fumikage listened through the door listening in on the proposal before dramatically opening it to congratulate the newly engaged couple.

Keigo was happy for them he truly was but there was still a sting of sadness seeing Izuku being engaged. It didn’t help that Touya left earlier, it was almost like he could feel the ghost of blue eyes looking at him. That night there was a loud knocking on the door of the orphanage. Inko, Rumi and Keigo ran down stairs to see what the commotion was about. Inko upon opening the door was taken aback, for it was Lord Enji that walked furiously. It was almost as Keigo could imagine fire rolling off his body. Enji made it clear he needed to speak with Keigo alone at a matter of urgency. There were rumors that were being spread that Keigo had the intention to be united with his son Touya. Enji said he knew this to be a scandalous falsehood but by not wanting to further agitate Touya by supposing it possible, Enji immediately stepped out to make his sentiments known. Keigo brought up if Enji believed it impossible he wondered why the Lord would trouble himself from coming so far. Enji wanted those words to be contradicted in his presence. Enji accused Keigo of starting the rumors that Keigo hasn’t had the slightest idea where they came from. Enji asks if Touya had offered him his marriage. To which Keigo replies if Enji thought it was impossible then how could he think that. Keigo tells him that he is not engaged to Touya and when Enji tells him to promise to never enter such an engagement, Keigo refuses. For Lord Enji Todoroki has insulted him in every possible way and can now have nothing further to say. He asked Enji to leave immediately before showing the Lord out.

Keigo couldn’t sleep. The birds began to chirp their sweet morning songs. Keigo decided to take a very early morning walk. The sky was still slightly dark and the fields had a layer of mist covering them. Keigo wrapped his tan coat closer to him. He looked off in the distance only to be met with an ever familiar figure. Touya had been walking towards him through the mist. Long black coat trailing behind him. Finally the two were face to face once again.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nor I. My father…”

“Yes. He was here.”

“How could I ever make amends for such a behavior?”

“ After what you have done for Eijiro, and I suspect for Izuku also, it is I who should be making amends.”

“You must know. Surely you must know it was all for you. You were too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my father last night and it has taught me to hope as I scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If however your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you you have bewitched me body and soul and I love… I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Keigo allowed himself to walk closer to Touya before grabbing on too his hands before bringing them up to softly kiss them.

“Well then… Your hands are cold.”

The sun in it’s morning glow made both red and golden hair shine as the two leaned in to a slow kiss. When they parted they rested their forehead together merely looking at each other with.

Keigo brought Touya home to allow him to tell Inko and Rumi he was to be married to Touya.The both of them thought Keigo hated him. They believed Touya proud and unpleasant but it really was the opposite. Keigo explained to them what Touya had done for them and how he was wrong. Keigo didn’t hate him and misjudged but rather he loved him. They were both wrong about so many things.The two of them are so similar and they were both so stubborn. Through Inko and Rumi’s tears they said he really did love him. Through hugs and tears Keigo parted from them.

Keigo watched swans swim peacefully in the lake in front of the Pemberley Estate that Touya had whisked him off to. Underneath the gentle glow of the lanterns in the night. Touya sat by his side.

“How are you this evening, my dear?”

“Very well— Only I wish you would not call me ‘my dear’ “

“Why?”

“Cause it’s what Inko always calls us when she is cross about something.”

“What endearments am I allowed?”

“ Well let me think “Keigo” for everyday. “My dove” for Sundays and “Angel Divine,” but only on special occasions.”

“And what should I call you when I am cross? Mr. Todoroki?”

“ No. No. You may only call me Mr. Todoroki when you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

“And how are this evening Mr. Todoroki?”

With a String of Mr. Todoroki leaving Touya’s mouth each time planting a kiss on Keigo’s face before landing his final kiss on Keigo’s mouth.

#dabihawks #bnha takami keigo #bhna hawks #takami keigo #bnha dabi #hotwings #toukei #dabi is touya #touya todoroki #dabihawks pride and prejudice au #mha takami keigo #mha hawks #mha dabi #hawks #pride and prejudice au

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literatureaesthetic · 4 years

Text

For July, I set myself a challenge to only read books written by POC. I read some amazing novels, written by authors that I had never even heard of before.

I'm going to list 5 books that I've read recently, I encourage you to read them because they are truly amazing novels. I'll try to pick books that cover a range of genres:

▪ The Wrath and the Dawn by Renee Ahdieh (YA Fantasy)

Filled with beautiful prose, this book is a retelling of Arabian Nights. It follows Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. This duology is now an all time new favourite of mine (look out for an elaborate review which I'll be posting soon). The writing style is stunning, the Arabian setting was atmospheric and mesmerising, the characters were original and refreshing. This duology is a pleasure to read, and if you were to only read one of the books mentioned on this list, I'd recommend it be this one.

▪Starfish by Akemi Dawn Bowman (Contemporary)

I'm actually not sure if this author is a POC (I've done research and I couldn't find anything regarding her ethnicity) however this book does follow a half-Japanese teen called Kiko Himura who grapples with social anxiety and her narcissist mother in the wake of a crushing rejection from art school in this debut novel. Kiko finds out she doesn’t get into Prism, at the same time her abusive uncle moves back in with her family. So when she receives an invitation from her childhood friend to leave her small town and tour art schools on the west coast, Kiko jumps at the opportunity in spite of the anxieties and fears that attempt to hold her back. And now that she is finally free to be her own person outside the constricting walls of her home life, Kiko learns life-changing truths about herself, her past, and how to be brave. This is a luminous, heartbreaking story of identity, family, and the beauty that emerges when we embrace our true selves. I stuggle a lot with anxiety, this book really helped me mentally and emotionally. I should mention there are a lot of trigger warnings including sexual abuse and anxiety.

▪ Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi (YA Fantasy)

Tomi Adeyemi is a Nigerian-American author, this is the first book in a African inspired young adult fantasy trilogy.

Zélie Adebola remembers when the soil of Orïsha hummed with magic. Burners ignited flames, Tiders beckoned waves, and Zélie’s Reaper mother summoned forth souls. But everything changed the night magic disappeared. Under the orders of a ruthless king, maji were killed, leaving Zélie without a mother and her people without hope. Now Zélie has one chance to bring back magic and strike against the monarchy. With the help of a rogue princess, Zélie must outwit and outrun the crown prince, who is hell-bent on eradicating magic for good. Danger lurks in Orïsha, where snow leoponaires prowl and vengeful spirits wait in the waters. Yet the greatest danger may be Zélie herself as she struggles to control her powers and her growing feelings for an enemy.

I love this book, I think it's well needed right now, with issues like police brutality etc. Children of Blood and Bone has quickly become a new favourite, and I can't wait for the final book in this trilogy.

▪ Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami (Magical Realism)

In Killing Commendatore, a thirty-something portrait painter in Tokyo is abandoned by his wife and finds himself holed up in the mountain home of a famous artist, Tomohiko Amada. When he discovers a previously unseen painting in the attic, he unintentionally opens a circle of mysterious circumstances. To close it, he must complete a journey that involves a mysterious ringing bell, a two-foot-high physical manifestation of an Idea, a dapper businessman who lives across the valley, a precocious thirteen-year-old girl, a Nazi assassination attempt during World War II in Vienna, a pit in the woods behind the artist’s home, and an underworld haunted by Double Metaphors. A tour de force of love and loneliness, war and art—as well as a loving homage to The Great Gatsby—Killing Commendatore is a stunning work of imagination from one of our greatest writers.

Killing Commendatore was atmospheric, and moody and gripping. Part of this is because the plot was excellently crafted. I had no idea where the story was heading, and just when I thought I did have an idea, Murakami threw a curveball and something completely bizarre happens (which I've heard is often the case with Murakami). I loved the motif of art in this novel. Art plays a key role in the plot and in the lead character's life. I enjoyed viewing the world through an artist's eyes.

▪ 10 Minutes and 38 Seconds in this Strange World by Elif Shafak (Literary Fiction)

*Before I get into the synopsis, I must say it's essential that you check the trigger warnings for this book before getting into it. I didn't, and it really affected me mentally because it covers a lot of sensitive topics.*

For Leila, each minute after her death brings a sensuous memory: the taste of spiced goat stew, sacrificed by her father to celebrate the long-awaited birth of a son; the sight of bubbling vats of lemon and sugar which the women use to wax their legs while the men attend mosque; the scent of cardamom coffee that Leila shares with a handsome student in the brothel where she works. Each memory, too, recalls the friends she made at each key moment in her life - friends who are now desperately trying to find her. . .

10 Minutes and 38 Seconds in This Strange World, is one of those books that rip your heart and make you sob uncontrollably, yet the message is so important that you have no choice but to push through and keep reading to the end. To say this book destroyed me is an understatement. I have never cried so much whilst reading a book (I'm not exaggerating). It crushed me. It dealt with so many difficult topics from child abuse, rape, self-harm, abuse towards transgender women etc.

Although this book destroyed me, I'd still recommend it. I think we owe it to everyone who suffered the same life as these characters, I think they deserve to be acknowledged.

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

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Tuesday 10 April 1838: SH:7/ML/E/21/0074

7 25

12 10

finish morning – high wind – F41° at 8 40 – somehow I think more of A- than she deserves I wish I was well rid of her – Looking into Backwell and De la Beche (Geology) till 9 – then breakfast and sat downstairs talking till 10 – soon afterwards sat down at my desk and wrote 3pp. and under seal (of ½ sheet) to Lady S. de R- and wrote over again (to date my letter today) what I wrote to Lady S- on Sunday writing it now in 4pp. of ½ sheet and 1 p. of envelope – then wrote 4pp. (letter paper) to Lady V.C- chitchat to Lady S- and thanks for her letter and congratulations on the birth of the little Sibbella – delighted and exulting to have waited till practice has made perfect that my Sibbella may not be behindhand with the little people her predecessors – Lady S- writes ‘tho a daughter she is the finest child she has’ – offer to put myself at Lady S-‘s disposal for 2 or 3 weeks anytime after the end of this month – shall want only my maid – will send my carriage to the coach maker to have what done may be necessary for a longer journey and will send my manservant home – wrote the substance of all this to Lady S. de R- adding that a very unexpected circumstance but not a windfall had upset my plans and that I now thought I should not be able to get quite off before near or after Xmas – wrote congratulations to Lady V.C- hope she did not feel the effects of her fall (just before her confinement) beyond the moment – mention having purchased the 2 books she recommended (Combe and Dr. Birgham) ‘much for us all to profit by, especially your mothers, whose olive-branches spring up, and thrive so pleasurably’ – ‘Surely you will condole with me on my being still here – I had arranged a plan of northern tour, and fixed the day for being in London; but a very unexpected circumstance upset my schemes once more; and I am waiting as patiently as I can – But I shall never go far without telling you – at this moment, I fear I cannot be absent for long together of some months to come – nous verrons – but I think I could manage a short while, and have just written to dear Lady Stuart, and offered to put myself at her disposal for 2 or 3 weeks’ then mention Breadalbanes’ asking my subscription to Mr. Robertsons’ work of travels and her ‘alluding with regret to his having published some foolish history of the Mclean family – of this I, of course, took no notice, as I really knew nothing about it – but considered Breadalbane’s request a sufficient reason for my taking two copies – she told me, too, of York being thought of as a place of residence for the Hugh Macleans, and that she herself, and the premier-lit girls were to spend the summer at her cottage, and talked of living together – why York for the Hugh Macleans? Is any part of England particularly cheap? Give a kiss for me to my little Sibbella, and to little Louisa, too, who behaved so beautifully at Leamington, and believe me always affectionately yours A. Lister’ – at 1 40 had just written so far of today and copied my letter to Lady S. de R- - then A- came to me all in the dolefuls about a handkerchief frill tried to get her right she had been very hardly used twice by me and now by her aunt never thought of going to Cliff hill as she had done could not bear when she came here thought of going abroad and when I said I had offered her to go away to any friends or do anything I could she said she did not like to go with my servants I said she had the whole management I said I had nobody to advise with might I write to her sister no it would be very hard well said if I could but have my own way I should not fear indeed but she did not like to be an automation I was very calm and quiet and said by and by she must forgive me if I did not forget the word automation I would not break her heart nor use her hardly nor make her an automaton these things could be easily settled but every sensible kept up appearances as well as they could – she sat all the while on my knee I begrudged the time and said I must seal my letters and go out she had before declined reading them she now said as she had waited so long she might as well read them her curiosity got the bette[r] she made no remark nor did I – I hope I shall be rid of her by and by had I not be better remain a little with Lady Stuart if I can with any comfort? – at least I had best not return to A- sealed my letters (A- with me till 2 40) and wrote the last 17 lines till 3 – then in about ¾ hour wrote 3 pp. and ends to M- ‘Shibden hall. Tuesday 10 April 1838. It pothers me, my dearest Mary, to see amid my

SH:7/ML/E/21/0075

heap of unanswered letters one from you received Tuesday 27 February’ six weeks ago – not long compared with the term of my delinquencies to many other people, but longer than my custom is to youwards [towards you]– I let you take your own time, of late generally eked out to many weeks; but it is never my intention to let my pen be dilatorily to you, and I think it seldom is so, in fact – one reason of my waiting, I meant my date to have been from elsewhere – all was arranged and the day fixed for our begin off, when a very unexpected circumstance upset all; and here we are, and are likely to be off, at this moment, I cannot guess how much longer – I do not pretend to enter into any sort of explanation on paper – it would be too tiresome to say, or, rather to write, more than that poor Mrs. Walker imagines herself within some short while of that bourne from which no traveller returns; and we are lookers on – if you chance to come this way, you will, of course, come and see us – if not, you will take it for granted, as I do, that ‘all things work together for good’ ..... glad to hear so good an account of her mother no wonder at M-‘s bad cold..... ‘when is Lawton to be finished? your comfort is at stake; and therefore I am anxious for the completion – as far as Shibden is concerned, I have got over all impatience – my care about the finishing is reduced is reduced to very comfortable dimensions – I am so engrossed with other things, I have little time for musing about my house – but, I do assure you, I seriously meditate making my escape by and by – your account of Mr. Lawton is so excellent, it seems as if he, like many others who have been ailing for many years, may survive many of the stronger and junior ones of our day – what you allude to, may, with his own common care, be of little nuisance or danger – I cannot help hoping you might slip away for 5 or 6 weeks well enough, if such should be recommended by your own inclination, and more especially by your medical advisers – I have not time to run into the minutiae of Rhine expense – my rough calculation was 25fr. ie. one pound English sterling per day – taking very little luggage – no servant (you and Mrs. M- would not want one) and travelling by steam – the fares are very moderate – I dare not say I myself ever travelled exactly at this rate; but I know that it has been done – there is no difficulty or disparagement in dining for 3fr. having breakfast and supper for 3fr. and bed for 2fr. = 8fr. and one fr. for the servants will suffice, leaving 16fr. out of the 25fr. for steaming and etc. quite enough si les voyageurs le veulent – It is travelling en milord that is expensive – 4 horses and 2 postboys not only entail your own expense but double everything else’ – as M- regrets gently leaving Leamington ‘I abate my own sorrow – I still however wish you well backed out of all your scholastic troubles’ – conclude she is still at Moreton – no doubt I should much approve all your alterations – your description vivâ voce would be more agreeable than any other means of bringing them before me, except in situ – I hope the prince with a long name has along enough purse’........who has just married Mr. W. Crewes’ cousin – ‘Perhaps you are busier than I – it may be so – but it does not take long to write me enough to inform me how you are, and where you are – However, I am always satisfied – come what may, there ought to be a never failing spring of happiness within us all – as touching those I am interested about, I always believe all right, till I am credibly informed to the contrary – I anticipate no [disagrees] – I dream but little – yet the little is carefully selected from what is pleasantest – I never saw any good in moody musings – God bless you Mary! you or your letters will find me here, and always faithfully and affectionately yours AL’ – at 4 10 had just written the last line of p. 137, the whole of the last p. and so far of this – then sealed my letter to ‘Mrs. Lawton hall, Lawton, Cheshire’ and left also ready for the bad tonight my letter to ‘the honourable Lady Stuart Whitehall’ and to ‘The Lady Stuart de Rothesay undercover to ‘Lord Stuart de Rothesay, Carlton terrace, London’ and my letter to ‘The Lady Vere Cameron Achnacarry Fort William Invernesshire’ went out at 4 20 – a few minutes with Robert Mann + 5 levelling at the meer in the morning and in the afternoon in the garden George Naylors’ horses carting clay from the flower garden to the great sycamore, and my own cart bringing clay from the Laundry road side to cover over the turret passage – the 2 teams carts in the morning bringing necessary stuff from Hx- on to the land – then to Listerwick pit walked there with Joseph Mann – told him the engine would be a £700 business – I had no choice – I must either let the colliery or settle about it someway – then to John Oates – laid up with an inflammation in his right hand and about the wrist – Mr. Swallow came and I went out while he was there – then returned and was an hour at John’s told him about the engine – he still inclines to an endless chain – and thinks the engine will cost little more working their ginning with horses would have done for 2 horses could hardly have done the work – said what I had said to Holt about knowing what the coal would make me clean per acre – said I only wanted £150 per acre for the coal (very fair said John) and 10pc. on outlay – but this would be near £6000 – say £5500 at the least – say 3 acres per annum £450 + £550 = £1000 – John thought it could not clean so much – but said he thought it really would clear me £300 per acre - .:. if 4 acres – could be sold per annum it would pay – there will be a deal of straight work but this will leave something – In fact, John says, I must go on now – and only wait a little and the Dove house coal will be bought reasonably and then I can go on without incurring any more expense in looses as long as I live – John says he thinks we can sell 3 acres if the coal is as good as that got at [Ship] Inn pit, the quality will sell – none like it hereabouts – well! I must go on, and if I can weather out [of] the storm a little longer perhaps I shall do pretty well at last – I think I can manage – at all rates, I will not despair – came in at 6 ¾ - gave A- my letter to M- to read – went into the cellar – 1 port 1 marsala – dinner at 7 10 – A- poorly – could not see Joseph Mann who came at 8 about Landymere – went to bed at 8 ½ - I made my own coffee and sat reading

SH:7/ML/E/21/0076

the h-x Guardian till 10 ½ - then 5 minutes in the west tower – the cupboard above the stairs ceiling put up – then wrote the last 25 lines till now 10 55 pm at which hour F50° finish afternoon and evening dampish in the morning with highish wind – and whistling wind tonight – I looked very grave at dinner A- had a headache temper-sick so I let her go off to bed and have taken no notice I must be rid of her be it as it may hear bad temper vulgar pride and littleness of mind would be an insupportable drag upon me for the rest of my life – surely I shall get some way I dread the loneliness most but heaven will provide me even against this in some way had A- been barely tolerable I could have go ton perhaps I am obliged to her aunt for making me this opportunity of getting off does A- suspect my thought of not returning to her? cunning and suspicious as she is does she think that I hope not to trouble her long? – had Booth tonight till near 7 – told him JO. was still for the endless chair – that Garforth was to send plans of with and without; and we would all meet at John Oates’s at 3pm on Friday instead of here – has A- thought much of losing the forget-me-not ring I gave her? then read Bakewells’ geology for 10 minutes till 11 35

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tomhiddleslove · 5 years

Text

The screen and stage star is making his Broadway debut as the bottled-up husband wearing a “mask of control” in Harold Pinter’s romantic triangle.

[ By Laura Collins-Hughes

Aug. 21, 2019, 5:00 a.m. ET ]

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

That had been his idea, to slip for a few moments into the character he’s playing on Broadway, in Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal”: Robert, the cheated-on husband and backstabbed best friend whose coolly proper facade is the carapace containing a crumbling man. And when Mr. Hiddleston became him, the change was instantaneous: the guarded stillness of his body, the chill reserve in his gray-blue eyes.

“It’s interesting,” Mr. Hiddleston said after a while, analyzing Robert’s expression from the inside. “It gives less away.” A pause, and then his own smile flickered back, its pleasure undisguised. “O.K.,” Mr. Hiddleston announced, himself again, “it’s not Robert anymore.”

It was late on a muggy August morning, one day before the show’s first preview at the Bernard B. Jacobs Theater, and Mr. Hiddleston — the classically trained British actor best known for playing the winsomely chaotic villain Loki, god of mischief and brother of Thor, in the Marvel film franchise — had been in New York for less than a week.

He’ll be here all autumn for the limited run of the production, a hit in London earlier this year, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he’d settled in. “I literally have never sat in this room before,” he’d said at the top of the photo shoot, in his cramped auxiliary dressing room, next door to the similarly tiny one he had been occupying.

He’d had nothing to do with the space’s camera-ready décor. So there was no use making a metaphor of the handsome clock with its hands stopped at 12 (“Betrayal” is famous for its reverse chronology; far more apt if the clock had run backward), or of the compact stack of pristine books that looked like journals, with pretty covers and presumably empty pages: a bit off-brand for Mr. Hiddleston, who at 38 has a model-perfect exterior with quite a lot inscribed inside.

Take the matter-of-fact way he said, in explaining that he’d first encountered Pinter’s work when he studied for his A-levels in English literature, theater, Latin and Greek: “It was a real tossup between French and Spanish or Latin and Greek. I thought, I can always speak French and Spanish, I can’t always read Latin and Greek, so I’ll study that and I’ll speak the other two.”

Though, to be fair, he only said that because I’d teased him slightly about the Latin and Greek, and I’d teased him — not a recommended journalistic technique — because he was so disarmingly good-humored and resolutely down to earth, chatting away as he waited for the photographer to set up a shot. It didn’t seem like it would ruffle him. He laughed, actually.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

In this country, Mr. Hiddleston is mainly a screen star, known also for playing Jonathan Pine in the John le Carré series “The Night Manager” on AMC. There are plans, too, for him to bring Loki to Disney’s streaming service in a stand-alone series.

But at home in London, he has amassed some impressive Shakespearean credits, including the title roles in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet” and Josie Rourke’s “Coriolanus,” and a turn as Cassio in Michael Grandage’s “Othello” — a production that Pinter, saw some months before he died in 2008. That was the year Mr. Hiddleston won a best newcomer Olivier Award for Cheek by Jowl’s “Cymbeline.”

Jamie Lloyd’s “Betrayal,” which has a staging to match the spareness of Pinter’s language and a roiling well of squelched emotion to feed its comedy, is Mr. Hiddleston’s Broadway debut. Likewise for his co-stars, Zawe Ashton (of Netflix’s “Velvet Buzzsaw”), who plays Emma, Robert’s wife; and Charlie Cox (of Netflix’s “Daredevil”), who plays Emma’s lover, Jerry, Robert’s oldest friend.

Beginning at what appears to be the end of Robert and Emma’s marriage, after her yearslong affair with Jerry has sputtered to a stop, it’s a drama of cascading double-crosses. First staged by Peter Hall in London in 1978 — and in 1980 on Broadway, where it starred Roy Scheider, Blythe Danner and Raul Julia — it rewinds through time to the sozzled evening when Emma and Jerry overstep the line.

The most recent Broadway revival was just six years ago, directed by Mike Nichols and starring Daniel Craig as Robert, Rachel Weisz as Emma and Rafe Spall as Jerry. It might seem too soon for another, let alone one with sexiness to spare — except that Mr. Lloyd’s production is also marked by a palpable hauntedness and a profound sense of loss.

Reviewing the London staging in The New York Times, Matt Wolf called it “a benchmark achievement for everyone involved,” showing the play “in a revealing, even radical, new light.” Michael Billington, in The Guardian, called Mr. Hiddleston’s performance “superb.”

What’s curious is that Mr. Hiddleston, so good at bad boys, isn’t playing Jerry, the more glamorous role: the cad, the pursuer, the best man who goes after the bride. But Mr. Lloyd said that casting him that way was never part of their discussions.

Last fall, when Mr. Lloyd persuaded Mr. Hiddleston to read a scene with Ms. Ashton for a one-night gala celebration of Pinter in London, part of the season-long Pinter at the Pinter series, there was no grand plan. Having asked Mr. Hiddleston about a possible collaboration for years, since “just before he became ridiculously famous,” Mr. Lloyd said, this was the first time he got a yes.

“I just really admired his craft of acting, the precision of his acting, as well as his real emotional depth and his real wit,” Mr. Lloyd said. “And he’s turned into what I think is the epitome of a great Pinter actor. Because if you’re in a Pinter play, you have to dig really deep and connect to terrible loss or excruciating pain, often massive volcanic emotion, and then you have to bottle it all up. You have to suppress it all.”

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

The scene Mr. Hiddleston and Ms. Ashton read at the gala appears at the midpoint of “Betrayal”: Robert and Emma on vacation in Venice, at a moment that leaves their marriage with permanent damage. Within days, Mr. Hiddleston told Mr. Lloyd that he was on board for a full production.

‘What remains private’

Photos taken, back in the faintly more lived-in of his Broadway dressing rooms, Mr. Hiddleston opened the window to let in some Midtown air — and when you’re as tall as he is, 6 feet 2 inches, opening it from the top of the window frame is easy enough to do. Then, making himself an espresso with his countertop machine, he sat down to talk at length.

“I’m always curious about the presentation of a character’s external persona versus the interior,“ he said. “What remains private, hidden, concealed, protected, and what does the character allow to be seen? We all have a very complex internal world, and not all of that is on display in our external reality.”

He can tick off the ways that various characters of his conceal what’s inside: Loki, with all that rage and vulnerability “tucked away”; the ultra-proper spy Jonathan Pine, in “The Night Manager,” “hiding behind his politeness”; Robert, a lonely man wearing “a mask of control” that renders him “confident, powerful, polished,” at least as far as any onlookers can tell.

In “Betrayal,” each of the three principals has an enormous amount to hide from the people who are meant to be their closest intimates. It’s a play about power and manipulation, duplicity and misplaced trust, and what’s so threatening about it is the very ordinariness of its privileged milieu. This snug little world that once seemed so safe and ideal — the happiest of families, the oldest of friends — has long since fallen apart.

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

“The sadness in the play — it’s not only sadness; because it’s Pinter, there’s wit and levity as well — but if there is sadness in the play,” he said, “I think it comes from the fact that these betrayals render Robert, Emma and Jerry more alone than they were before.”

Trust and self-protection

One-on-one, Mr. Hiddleston was more cautious than he’d been during the photo shoot, surrounded then by a gaggle of people affiliated with the show. Still, when I asked him about betrayal, lowercase, he went straight to the condition it violates.

“To trust is a profound commitment, and to trust is to make oneself vulnerable,” he said, fidgeting with a red rubber band and choosing his words with care. “It’s such an optimistic act, because you’re putting your faith in the hands of someone or something which you expect to remain constant, even if the circumstances change.”

“I’m disappearing down a rabbit hole here,” he said, “but I think about it a lot. I think about certainty and uncertainty. Trust is a way of managing uncertainty. It’s a way of finding security in saying, ‘Perhaps all of this is uncertain, but I trust you.’ Or, ‘I trust this.’ And there’s a lot of uncertainty in the world at the moment, so it becomes harder to trust, I suppose.”

An interview itself is an act of trust, albeit often a wary one. And there was one stipulated no-go zone in this encounter, a condition mentioned by a publicist only after I’d arrived: No talk of Taylor Swift, with whom Mr. Hiddleston had a brief, intense, headline-generating romance that, post-breakup, she evidently spun into song lyrics.

That was three years ago, and I hadn’t been planning to bring her up; given the context of the play, though, make of that prohibition what you will. Mr. Hiddleston, who once had a tendency to pour his heart out to reporters, knows that he can’t stop you.

“It’s not possible, and nor should it be possible, to control what anyone thinks about you,” he said. “Especially if it’s not based in any, um —” he gave a soft, joyless laugh — “if it’s not based in any reality.”

That’s something he’s learned about navigating fame — about being put on a pedestal that’s then kicked out from under him. He knows now “to let go of the energy that comes toward me, be it good or bad,” he said. “Because naturally in the early days I took responsibility for it.”

“And yes, I’m protective about my internal world now in probably a different way,” he added, his tone as restrained as his words. He took a beat, and so much went unsaid in what he said next: “That’s because I didn’t realize it needed protecting before.”

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

And the way he treated the people around him at work — with a fundamental respect, regardless of rank, and no whiff of flattery — made him seem sincere about what he called “staying true to the part of myself that’s quite simple, that’s quite ordinary.”

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

#tom hiddleston #hiddles #twhiddleston #the new york times #Betrayal #harold pinter play #Betrayal Broadway #bernard b jacobs theater #August 21 2019 #Devin Yalkin #tom hiddleston interview #loki #tom hiddleston portrait #black and white photography #new york city #link to original article in source

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twh-news · 5 years

Photo

Tom Hiddleston on ‘Betrayal’ and the Art of Self-Protection

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

‘What remains private’

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

Trust and self-protection

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

#tom hiddleston #article #interview #betrayal #Betrayal on Broadway

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insanityclause · 5 years

Link

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

‘What remains private’

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

Trust and self-protection

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

#betrayal (play)#Tom Hiddleston

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maryxglz · 5 years

Link

Tom Hiddleston was posing for a portrait, and the face he showed the camera wasn’t entirely his own.

From a one-night reading to Broadway

This, he added, is what Mr. Hiddleston does in “Betrayal,” where characters’ meaning is found between and behind the words, not inside them.

“Some of the pain that he’s created in Robert, it’s just unbearable, and yet he always keeps a lid on it,” Mr. Lloyd said.

‘What remains private’

But to Mr. Hiddleston, Pinter’s drama contains two themes just as significant as betrayal: isolation and loneliness.

Trust and self-protection

Even so, he doesn’t give the impression of having closed himself off. When something genuinely made him laugh, he smiled a smile that cracked his face wide open.

That investment in his ordinariness, as he put it, is a hedge against the destabilizing trappings of fame, but it doubles as a way of protecting his craft.

It’s also of a piece with his insistence that vulnerability is a necessary risk to take, at least sometimes.

“If you go through life without connecting to people,” he asked, “how much could you call that a life?”

#tom hiddleston #betrayal #betrayal broadway #harold pinter #bernard b jacobs theatre #theatre #broadway #jamie lloyd #zawe ashton #charlie cox #the new york times

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rumbelleshowdown · 5 years

Text

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Author: Butts Prompt: The emperor’s new clothes. Group: E

From what Belle could surmise, Mr. Gold had always hated the color green.

She had never seen him wear it even once. Until his quick fling with Ms. Zelena West, that is. During his short-lived relationship with her that had lasted about two months, she forced the color upon Gold so when the two of them went out together, he matched her. Thus, a few key green items infiltrated his wardrobe and ultimately became part of his usual rotation and even after they had broken up.

It had now been about six months post-Zelena and something about Gold wearing the color green didn’t quite sit well with Belle, but she just couldn’t place her finger on it. Gold usually had impeccable taste and style, but something looked incredibly off when he wore green. At first, Belle thought her sudden distaste for Gold’s clothes were related to her distaste for the woman Gold had been seeing, but she slowly realized what the real problem was after many months of casually observing him around town, in her library, and sometimes in her daydreams. A lot of the times what he wore with green didn’t seem to quite match the rest of his outfit.

The big event that was the “Ah-ha” moment for her was one day when he walked into Grannies wearing a red shirt, a green tie, and orange socks. That was absolutely the worst look that Belle had ever seen him wear. Everybody was looking at him a little strangely. She clearly wasn’t the only one who took notice of this odd ensemble, but nobody said a word.

He walked past her booth and as soon as she saw his orange socks hitched up, she thought knew exactly what it was: Gold must have been colorblind. Red-green colorblind specifically. In the past, she had noticed that he usually kept to blues and darker colors with the occasional pop of red now and then. But he now had green and orange in his repertoire.

Sure, her conclusion was that he was most likely color blind, but she had no way of knowing that for sure. Or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject about his appearance. She never saw him slip up with coordinating his colors before now. Or perhaps she just hadn’t noticed. She absolutely had to say something to him if nobody else was, right, but was it her place to? What if he just was bad at matching greens and that had nothing to do with colorblindness? She didn’t want to be rude.

People watched him as he sat down and ate his meal. Yes. perhaps he had just grabbed a few wrong things to wear?

After some more time after that event, Belle vowed to become more observant of him and she noticed that he continued to wear some odd ensembles occasionally and it always happened with random pops of green and oranges that were mixed badly.

She was going to have to say something to him. Nobody else was.

Belle was at her desk in her library when she saw Gold walk in. It was relatively quiet now and he seemed to be wearing green with an odd matching pocket square. She sighed, putting down her copy of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales that she had been reading, today was the day she was going to confront him. She just hoped that her theory was correct. She got up from her desk.

“Miss. French,” Gold said as soon as she got close to him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, you’re in my library, Mr. Gold. I should ask you the same thing.”

He smiled a slight sly smile. “I suppose you’re right. I’m here looking for a new read.”

“Good. It's been a hot minute since I saw you here last.”

“My apologies, I haven’t had much energy for reading with everything going on. I did like that last recommendation you gave me, though, it did take me awhile to start reading.”

“I’m glad,” Belle smiled. She paused, thinking about how to bring up the subject on her mind. “We’re friends, right, Mr. Gold?”

“I'm not sure I would call us friends,” Gold said straightening himself up, looking a little uncomfortable and surprised at Belle’s sudden friendship question.

“Well-” Belle began anyway.

“I-” Gold interrupted her.

“Yes?” Belle asked, stopping herself.

“Oh, no, go on,” Gold said.

“I was going to say,” Belle said again. “I wanted to talk to you about a personal issue,”

Gold looked even more so incredibly uncomfortable. “...yes?”

“It’s about you.”

“Oh, about me?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you have to say about me or my personality, I’ve probably heard before Miss. French.” His voice carried a sort of irritability to it.

“But I don’t think you have, Mr. Gold,” she said trying to get her point across. She looked around the room before continuing. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk you about lately. Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you colorblind?”

“I’m- How do you- What?”

“Oh my gosh,” Belle said embarrassed. “I’m so sorry if I’m wrong but it’s just-”

“No, you’re right,” Gold said, confusedly. “It’s just...how did you know?”

Belle just eyed his outfit up and down and gave him a awkward smile.

“Shit,” Gold whispered under his breath. “Excuse my language, Miss. French,” he corrected himself. “I suppose I’ve been tricked by someone absolutely wicked. Is my outfit now, is it…”?

“Afraid so.”

Mr. Gold let out an annoyed huff of air. “Here I was wearing all this all this time, and nobody’s told me. I can’t believe all these people. Liars.”

“It hasn’t been too-”

“I’d say on the longer side of 6 months now according to my calculations, am I correct?”

Belle nodded slowly. “I think. But I didn’t really notice anything for certain until a few weeks ago.”

“My ex, I had some suspicions she was messing around with me after I told her that I was colorblind, but I never thought- never mind; she was capable, apparently. I tried a few outfits out on people after we split just to double check because I had my suspicions, but nobody seemed to notice or say anything to me but occasional compliments! Now I know they were mocking me.”

Belle felt bad for him. “How have you gotten away with it before, not mixing up colors, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I’d used to ask people I trusted, read labels, shop online, picked things that were darker colors, mostly blues, and even asked the shopkeepers sometimes. There’re ways I have of telling, you know, but I just can’t be certain all the time. Zelena, she had assured me-” Belle could see his anger. “Nevermind. Thank you, Miss French. Thank you for standing out and being the one to tell me. Unfortunately, though it looks like I have appeared a fool in front of the whole town.”

“You aren't a fool. You can’t help it. I’m sorry. I only wish I could have let you know sooner.”

“What am I wearing now?”

“Bright orange pocket square. Get rid of it.”

“If only she didn’t sneak orange colors into my wardrobe.” Gold gave her a wry smile. He paused. “Mrs. French, I have to ask. If you see me wearing any of those colors again, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I won’t.”

“You are in my debt, Miss French. My reputation- Name one thing of me and it shall be yours.” Gold then thanked her again. Gold never thanked anyone, she was gobsmacked.

“Ok. I’ll think of it,” Belle said, her heart fluttering.

They ended that conversation amicably and Gold grabbed a book and started flipping through it while Belle made her way back to her desk. Today had been an eventful meeting for sure. He came up to her desk sometime later with two books to check out. “Is that all for today?” she asked.

“Yes. And I must thank you again, Miss French.” That was him thanking her for the third time that day.

“Of course, what are friends for?” Belle smiled.

He chuckled softly. “Yes, you have always been a good friend to me,” he admitted. “A true one for telling me.”

A friend.

“So, we’re friends now?” Belle asked with a hint of irony in her voice.

“I suppose we are.” He took the books from her and began limping out of the door.

Belle laughed cheerily. “Alright then, Mr. Gold. Enjoy the books, friend!” she said as he left.

She could have sworn his cheeks were tinged pink as he continued on his way.

#rumbelle showdown #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #round one entry #author: Butts #group E #rumbelle showdown 2019 #rumbelleshowdown

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bites-kms · 5 years

Text

Off the Beaten Path: Paros

I was looking for ferries to Ios but then I realized that given the start of low season, this wouldn’t happen any time soon. Hence, I booked one to Paros. Although this ferry never happened either for the same reason, which I happily found out while in Santorini, it all worked out perfectly. This wonderful and noble guy created a connection for me on the system and I sailed towards what, according to him, was the best (and only) option. I managed to have lunch in Naxos, another island in between Mykonos and Paros, enjoyed some sun to later and finally make it to Paros. On my way, I met Linda and Dawn, two wonderful and strong ladies from the US who with I ended up sharing a beach lunch during my last day.

I didn’t know what to expect from Paros. Booking this trip meant to actually hearing this island’s name for the first time. It actually happens to be one of the biggest Cyclades islands. Paros at first sight is wonderful. It’s friendly, it’s organized. Although it counts with all the services and its daily life changed abruptly since tourism became a thing, once again, going offseason was not only worth it but also the best choice.

Paros feels like being stuck in time. Probably due to the off season days, this beautiful island is perfect for chillax after your island hopping, full of non-stop adventure, in Greece. Empty narrow streets, delicious seafood, exquisite sunsets, infinite crystal clear shores and friendly locals are there to make your stayed in Paros, an unforgettable one.

If the previous cities were ruled by cats, in Paros they are the freaking mayor. But they have a major competitor for the throne: ducks. Ducks and cats stroll freely by Paros’ shores and it’s hilarious seeing them interact. I’m not talking about cute little ducks, those too. I’m talking about enormous, swan-like birds, cuaking their way through people and aground ships.

Time doesn’t pass as in the rest of the planet. It runs on a smoother, more relaxed way. People, probably tourists on an Airbnb Experience, were sketching different houses, fishermen (and women!) were preparing the fresh octopus they just caught in between chairs, letting it dry to the fresh, sea breeze. An old men, probably a sailor, with tons of life lived on his tanned, wrinkled face, was wearing a yellow t-shirt, chilling with a cat, sat down by his house entrance, without realizing he was in color-coding matching uniform with his yellow and white House. It was gorgeous.

Walking around its narrow streets, it was wonderful to see all the stuck-in-time constructions, its colorful houses and shy sun rays coming through the pink bougainvillea flowers, that highly and beautifully contrasted with the clear, sky-blue sky. One man approached me, probably a little bit tipsy on Mastika or Racomelo, wearing this olives branches on his head, greeting me with a cheerful Kalimera, which of course I replied back. He started to engage in what could barely be defined as a conversation, with his very scarce and broken English vocabulary, but he managed to ask me where I was from, complemented Uruguayan football and told me something else in Greek which will be a mystery.

There are two main town in Paros: Naoussa and Parikia. Parikia is where the main port is, and Naoussa the most developed fishing village up north. I stayed in Naoussa’s main street, right by the water and next to some of the most renown Paros’ restaurants.

Staying in Naoussa was a great choice. I managed to walk to some of the great beaches around, yet being on a beautiful little town. Everything was walking distance from my place. I was staying at the Ragoussis Bakery and Hotel, or as they call themselves, “Ragoussis Sweet Rooms”. It’s a wonderful bakery that smartly enough decided to expand its business and adding some rooms on top of the bakery for the morning pleasure of their guest, who would delight themselves with the warmly, fresh baked scent as a wake up call. Complementary cookies and a very homy and family oriented service is provided. Delicious pastries and breakfast is served, and the kitchen is open until late so it’s great for night owl travelers (definitely not my case).

I didn’t realize how much I was craving for a comfy, mushy mushy bed with a baby-butt soft cover. Man, I slept good! With a sea and port theme, it’s minimal decor was wonderful and blends right in with the vibe and feeling of Naoussa.

Checking out Naoussa’s port, its church and downtown will take you less than a day and it’s a must. Paros is also commonly known by its strong winds, which they have a proper name and everything for it: the Meltemi. According to locals, heavy winds haven’t arrived yet, but I almost got flown away several times. The first one, I managed to hide myself from it, seeking for shelter in a cosy restaurant by the port, and had a deconstructed eggplant lasagna which was very good. That dinner was all I needed: I was ready to hit the sack and prepare next day’s adventure.

There are ferry services to the main island beaches, but after waiting for a few minutes, I thought that maybe being offseason the ferries won’t part. So, I took my morning quite slowly, enjoyed my breakfast, rested in bed and read my book, before embarking on an hour and fifteen minute walk towards Kolympetheres Beach. The walk was worth every step: beautiful hidden houses, breathtaking views, outstanding cliffs. I was enjoying the sun, the breeze and my music, laughing out-loud thinking about the amazing experience I was living right there, right now.

I had some delicious lamb on what it was one of the most secluded yet beautiful restaurants I’ve found in all Greece: Kolympetheres Taverna. Family owned, they offered me the BEST grapes I’ve had in a while: seriously, they were juicy, tender, no pit, not too sweet, an absolute delicacy. I know, they were just grapes, but oh my god those grapes.

I went back and explored Piperi Beach, Anargyroi Beach, Xifara Beach until Stephano plage, 4 kms towards the opposite side of Kolympetheres. It was a unique beach strip that connected a little island with Paros, having sea on both sides. It was a beautiful place to watch the sunset and call my mom. It’s always important to call you mom. Love your parents, and tell them so often. While we are busy traveling, we tend to forget they are growing old. Before mobile phones, data plans and emails, I had the chance to travel with my parents a couple of times (yes, I’m that old) and clearly remember making long distance calls, dialing millions of numbers featured on a lame, bendy paper card on public phones just to talk less than 2 minutes with my grandparents. It was technology at its best! So now, it’s crazy the possibility to randomly call family and friends just to share a live sunset or sent multiple videos and photos at the same time, feeling as if they were sharing the same experience, right next to you, beating all time zones and distances. I keep it classy and vintage though, sending postcards of every single country I go. You should try it, there’s a unique feeling of receiving one handwritten memory of someone who thought about you across the world.

For my last dinner in Naoussa, I decided to go for king crab orzo pasta by the bay. There was an empty restaurant with extremely friendly waiters, that opened the rooftop part, firstly just for me, later for an Asian family to join, and we all were witness of an incredible sunset. It was a yummy dish and later on, the waiter insisted on having a shot with me ( I tend to be perceived as extremely friendly so waiters and service people from all over the place like me a lot) so we had what I thought it was initially Mastika, but ended up being this delicious honey grappa drink: Racomelo.

The following morning, I made sure to taste a delicious cappuccino and some sweet treats downstairs before heading to the bus stop where I randomly met Dawn again. We both wanted to check out Parikia, so there we went. We first explored solo the wonders of the port city, as one of the oldest Byzantine churches in Europe, from the IV century, its beautiful narrow streets, the iconic and touristy Market St. and the Dionysus hill with a current Windmill on top of it.

We met for a lovely lunch. Everyone recommended us Koralli Restaurant, but since it was closed due to the low season, we ended up on what it was the greatest way to say good to a strong and delightful island hopping vacation: Livadia Restaurant and Hotel. Double dose of house wine, red and white, homemade moussaka, grilled and panfried fetta with honey and sesame seeds as well as spinach fritters (which were da bomb!) was the selected menu for this occasion, that matched to perfection our conversation about lost and found love stories, women’s choices in today’s world and exciting and promising plans for our near future. Cheers, Dawn! May your knee heal promptly and keep taking you places where to nurture your soul. I’ll see you around, no doubts about it.

Once back in downtown Parikia, there were two beautiful cafes which I wanted to visit, but were already closed in the afternoon: Cafe Symposium Paros and Martin Denisse Cafe & Snack Bar. Both beautifully located, one in the middle of a square, the other one under a tree on a hidden alley intersection, they seem to have delicious house wine waiting for the thirsty throats and warm coffees for the cold visitor who needs an energy boost.

I ended up at Kakao Cafe & Bar, a very nice, delicate and cosy cafe rooftop that faced the sea and it was the perfect spot to have one last frapuccinno, those sugar rush of exquisite Greek delight before departing for Athens. Paros, you were wonderful. Ευχαριστώ!

#paros #island #greek #greekisland #islandhopping #cyclades #cycladic islands #mediterranean #agean #beauty #travel #love

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