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dyns33 · 7 months

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A story of witch

Happy Valentine day !

As a gift, here a looooooooong Morpheus x female reader.

Careful, some spoilers here, from the comics and so maybe from season 2.

Time had a different hold on witches.

A certain influence, because contrary to common beliefs, nothing escaped time and nothing was perfectly eternal, but it slipped over them as long as they decided, and had enough magic to repel its effects.

Y/N had already been walking on Earth for several centuries when she met Morpheus.

She had heard many legends about the Endless. Rumors. Lots of warnings, especially regarding Dream, who was described as a changeable, dangerous, angry and resentful being.

Her many sisters whispered to each other that becoming his lover was as much a gift as a curse. He would offer you the whole world on a platter, he would do everything to please you, and then one day, without warning, you would no longer suit him, you would do something wrong according to him, the feelings would no longer be as strong, and then misfortune would strike you.

The king would always find a way to blame you for this new emotional failure. Then you risked Hell, endless nightmares, eternal sleep.

Too much hassle for little benefit.

Y/N didn’t think about any of that when she met Morpheus. Neither to the wonders he could offer her, nor to the torments he risked inflicting on her.

For a witch, some might have thought that she was young, still naive, far too in love with her books and grimoires, fascinated by stories, and therefore vulnerable to the charms of the dreams master.

She didn't think she would fall in love. Neither did he. The mourning of his marriage and his child were still recent, for a being such as him. Y/N had barely been born when this tragedy had happened.

The subject was not brought up, like none of his former lovers. Morpheus did not forget, he never forgot, but when a new relationship began, he did not look back to compare with the previous ones.

No doubt it was a mistake on his part, who then never learned from his mistakes.

Y/N hadn’t had as many relationships as him. Witches have the luxury of immortality, and they knew the consequences of it. Bonding with mortals wasn't a good idea, even less so with their peers. Too risky. Too dangerous.

Attempting to see the future in dreams could have been described with the same words. Y/N was taking the risk of being punished by two Endless, Destiny and Dream.

But Destiny never interfered in anything, and Dream was intrigued by the little witch, asking her not to repeat her experiments, but welcoming her into his domain.

As they walked in his garden, the inhabitants of the Dreaming knew before them what was going to happen.

"Your flowers are beautiful. Everything is beautiful here."

“Would you like to see my library ?”

"Oh, I'd love to ! But you must have a lot to do, I don't want to bother you more than necessary."

"You don't bother me, mikri magissa. You are welcome here."

It took a while for Y/N to realize that they were getting closer. The courting of the king of stories was subtle, ethereal like him, full of poems and tenderness while doing without many words far too heavy with meaning, and at the same time far too limited to convey all the ardor of their love.

Because they loved each other, there was no doubt about it. The end of their story came quickly, although to a mortal three centuries seemed like a lot. At the same time, those who knew Morpheus well could testify that this was quite a long time for a relationship with him. But as always with his relationships, there had to be an end.

“I’m just saying he’s not wrong.”

"You don't know what you're talking about, o mágos mou. This man is insane and I'm not lonely."

“However, I have felt you far from me for some time now. Perhaps forever.”

"Don't I love you more than anything ? Haven't I shown you my love on many occasions ?"

"I don't know. It's difficult for me to know with you, immutable and yet so variable. Sometimes you give so much, too much, and sometimes not enough, if it's not nothing. There is no middle ground with you. Probably not with me either. It's possible that I'll ask you impossible things."

“Nothing is impossible for me.”

“Yet you refuse to speak, to really speak. You flee this kind of discussion, as you fled the friendship of this man.”

“Don’t push me, Agápe μου.”

Y/N left the Dreaming that night knowing she wasn’t coming back. Morpheus' indifference to her departure could have been seen as fortunate, but it hurt her deeply. He didn't try to catch her, he didn't try to punish her either.

Even though it seemed obvious after several weeks that he would not pursue her, neither in her dreams nor in the Waking, Y/N took precautions to prevent their paths from crossing again. Using several spells, rituals, amulets and ancient seals, she ensured that her mind was cut off from the realm of her former lover.

This protection proved very useful when the sleeping sickness arrived.

Like the rest of the world, Y/N didn't immediately understand what was happening. She knew Dream enough to know that he would never neglect his work like that, that he would not abandon his position unless forced to do so, and that despite all the cruelty and resentment he was capable of, he would never do such a thing to the dreamers.

Something had happened, but she didn't know what.

Too afraid of what he could do to her if she went into the Dreaming, or what could happen to her sleep without the protections, Y/N didn't try to find out. It wasn't her business anyway, since they were no longer together and the fate of humanity wasn't part of her responsibilities.

Time continued to pass, and she still tried to help mortals when she could, with potions and incantations to help them sleep, or on the contrary wake up, ensuring that their nights were not entirely nightmares.

But this was difficult, because she was not the master of dreams. Without knowing it, she came very close to Morpheus the day her steps led her near a mansion with dark, gloomy energies, which she did not wish to approach too closely. However, there was something, abandoned under a tree near the property, which attracted her with strong force.

The body of a raven. A raven different from the others, a dream. Jessamy. Someone had shot her and she lay there, lifeless, far from her creator, far from her home.

Y/N took the poor thing with her. Necromancy being prohibited, it was not good to anger Death, and the existence of dreams being a complex thing, she did the only thing in her power, to offer a decent burial to the little emissary whom she had loved very much and who had often helped her control Morpheus' moods.

When collective sleep returned to normal, there were no signs. Nothing that made it possible to understand what had happened. Curious by nature, the witch repeated to herself that she should not try to understand. The rumors would spread quickly.

She heard about Burgess. Whispers recounted the long confinement of the maker of nightmares, who had taken revenge before setting off in search of his stolen instruments in order to rebuild his kingdom. Twice he went to the Underworld, he faced a Vortex, he fell in love. Nothing really new, just the same story over and over again.

Y/N didn’t want to know any of this, but the choice wasn’t hers. One of her sisters came to visit without being invited, and to ask her advice.

“I don’t see how I can help you, big sister.”

"You have experienced what I am experiencing. Tell me how to escape from Oneiros, because I no longer wish to see him and he does not seem ready to accept it."

The rumors had not mentioned the fact that Morpheus had fallen in love with a witch again. Older than Y/N, more powerful, crueler too, because Thessaly had little interest in things of the heart.

" … I repeat, I'm not sure I can help you. Make sure you don't inspire him with any more feelings and you'll be free."

"Sweet little sister, he still loves you and yet he left you alone. I'm asking for this."

"He doesn't love me. He didn't love me for a long time when I left."

"We argued often and each time my wing of the castle was razed and then rebuilt under his orders. There is no trace of his former companions left in all of the Dreaming. None, except you. He did not touch your room. He denied me access to it. He recreated it with everything else after his return. Can you tell me that doesn't mean anything ?"

Y/N didn’t respond. She didn't know what to answer, she didn't know about all this. Her eldest whispered that she was almost jealous. Many times she had wondered if she had gotten his attention because of their similarities, because she reminded him of his lost love.

It might be a good idea for her younger sister to discuss it with the Lord of Dreams.

"Or not. That would allow me to slip away without him probably noticing, but I can't wish harm on one of ours. I'll find a way."

This time, Y/N closed herself off to the whispers, not wanting to know if Thessaly had found this way.

Part of her wished the best for the lord of stories, who had suffered far too much in the last century despite all his wrongs, and who did not deserve to receive another injury. Another part didn't like knowing the older witch was with Dream.

She was afraid for her sister, and she was afraid for Morpheus, whose fickle heart was more fragile than he wanted to admit. The consequences were likely to be terrible for everyone.

Filled with memories, Y/N wanted to visit Jessamy’s grave. A powerful spell had hidden it from the eyes of the world, to prevent it from being desecrated, and she wondered if she had not made a mistake in doing so, for it was possible that Morpheus had never known where his faithful emissary rested.

But the magic of ravens was special, these beings knew things, and she shouldn't have been surprised to find one of them on the tree that protected the location.

"Good morning." she said politely, making new flowers appear near the grave.

"Hi. Do we know each other ? I feel like I know you."

"I don't think we've ever met. You're Dream's new raven."

"Yeah, Matthew. I don't know why I'm here. I'm sort of drawn to it, and Lucienne told me to follow my instincts for this sort of thing, but I don't understand. Are you the one calling me ?"

“I think it’s more your predecessor that you are feeling.”

"Jessamy ? Oh… The boss thought her body was destroyed or something. Were you the one who buried her ? That's nice of you. You don't look really surprised to see a talking raven. I feel like I'm supposed to know you. You seem important."

"Not really, no."

"The boss could tell me but he's busy at the moment. He's accompanying his sister on a quest. Good, it's keeping him busy. It's been raining too much since his break up, it's been days. Merv told me that it was almost always like that, frankly it's painful to watch. The time with this Nada, the time with his ex-wife, the time with another witch… I don't know what he has with witches. I didn't like her at all, she was mean."

“It rained in the Dreaming when I left ?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask, surprised by the news.

Before that day, she had always believed that her departure had had no impact. A total, cold indifference, showing that she no longer mattered. But Thessaly had talked about her room, and Matthew had talked about the rain, and Y/N didn't know what to think at all now.

She had left Morpheus because of his inability to communicate, the distance he put between himself and the whole world. His grand declarations of love always seemed hollow, lacking something.

Maybe he had changed. He would never have allowed his emissary to speak as Matthew did, who was moving around on his tree asking a thousand questions about the relationship between his boss and Y/N. He even allowed himself to order her to leave, because he really didn't need Dream falling into depression again by seeing her through his eyes.

"He's got enough problems, he… Oh. Oh, no. I feel it, he's there. Shit, shit, shit. I have to go !"

Years without any news and within moments Y/N hearing about her former lover almost every day. Until someone came to her door and she found herself face to face with Morpheus.

He seemed embarrassed. He had always been awkward in the waking world, out of place, because dreams hardly survived in reality. But there was something else. He would never have bothered to knock before. He would have come into her house to say what he had to say, demanding that she listen to him, and agree with him at the end.

Without saying anything, he observed her as if he were seeing her for the first time, turning his gaze towards her bedroom, the door of which was surrounded by several symbols used to repel dreams and nightmares. Y/N expected this to make him angry. He had already not liked her touching his domain when they first met.

"I thought you followed my sister into the sunless lands…" he whispered, looking down. "I no longer felt your presence in the Dreaming. I didn't think you were running away from me. It didn't seem to me that I gave you reasons to run away."

“I wasn’t sure you’d be happy to see me again.”

"I have waited a long time for the day when I would have the joy of seeing your sweet face again. It never came, but I am the one responsible for it. You were right about Hob Gadling, You were right about many things but I didn't listen, and I lost you. It was one of my greatest regrets."

“Why are you talking like that ?” Y/N asked as she approached, their hands almost touching.

"Mikri magissa, so much has happened. I am at a crossroads, with a big decision to make. I admit to being afraid, and you give me courage."

“Maybe I can help you ?”

"Even if you could, I wouldn't ask you. The search for my little sister is dangerous, a lot of blood has been shed since we left in search of our brother and I couldn't bear to see it happen to you. I had agreed to help her to see someone again, without understanding that it was you I secretly wanted to see, and now I must find a way to console my sister, disappointed by my lack of investment. But the only way we have left is one that I dare not name."

Y/N had briefly met Morpheus' family, including Destruction and Delirium.

The prodigal had spoken to her little before his retirement, but he had seemed tired, reaching the limits of his functions and no longer seeing the point of remaining with all the inventions of mortals and immortals which fulfilled his role perfectly without he needs to intervene. His siblings did not understand his decision.

One of the most affected by his departure had been Delirum, very close to his brother, who would have given anything for a family reunion.

"If this means your downfall, I can't believe Delirium would ask such a thing of you." Y/N said indignantly, not daring to come any closer. “There must be something else.”

"I don't think my younger sister is aware of what she's asking of me, nor do I think it's possible for me to go any other way without putting someone else in danger. I just came to see you, and thank you for what you did for Jessamy, and for the dreamers during my absence. I hadn't seen all these acts of kindness. But maybe it's you who didn't want to see me again. Not with my behavior. Oh, mágos mou… I so wanted to be better for you, but I could only change by going through all these trials, and for that I had to lose you."

It felt like goodbye, and Y/N didn’t like it. By definition, the Endless had no end, at least not while there was life in the universe. Without thinking, she placed her hand on Dream's cheek. He usually hated it, being touched, especially without permission, but he closed his eyes with a happy sigh, pressing his skin against hers.

Asking him if he was okay seemed stupid, but the question left her lips, and when his eyes opened again, they had a strange glow. He muttered that no one had asked him that question since his release. It was almost years ago. In truth, no one had asked him that question, even before he was captured.

Like he said, it could be because he had changed, and he didn't really deserve to be asked if he was okay before. And now that he was making an effort, that he was understanding, that he was improving, it was too late.

"I'll find a way. I'll talk to your sister."

“Delirium has always loved you.” he sighed. "My whole family, I think. I never noticed that our relationship is the only one that Desire hasn't tried to sabotage. But maybe they knew that I would sabotage it on my own."

“Let me talk to her.”

Much to Morpheus' surprise, his younger sister listened to Y/N. She even seemed to become Delight again for a moment, as the witch promised to find Destruction, even if it would take time. She just had to be patient, but also accept that it was possible that their brother didn't want to be found.

It was his decision to leave, as it was her decision to change, and Dream's decision to stay the same. But if she asked him to continue their quest, horrible things could happen, and she might lose another member of her family.

"… Okay. But you promise to look ?"

“I swear on our mother’s first ledger.”

"Several people have died trying to help us, Delirium… It's not safe to…"

"Oh, shut up. You'll be with her to protect her, you didn't care about the others. You're probably happy that Y/N came back. I'm happy too, she's nice, you two were good together. If you find our brother, then everything will be perfect."

Several spells, formulas and sacrifices were necessary to find the trail of the Prodigal, or Destruction took pity on them by inviting them to join him, but they talked, and as Y/N had predicted, he did not wish to return, but he entrusted them with a dog to give to his little sister.

Before disappearing between the stars, he took his big brother by the hand, walking together near the cliff, and whispering something to him.

"What did he say ?" Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

"He told me not to make the same mistakes and to think about myself for once. Not about my position, not about my kingdom, about nothing but me, and about you. O mágos mou, it's been a long time, but if you…"

The kiss cut him off in the middle of his question, time seemed to stop, and it was as if they had never left each other.

#sandman #the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus x reader

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rockyroadkylers · 10 months

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WIP Wednesday!

I was tagged by @ssmtskw and @littlemisskittentoes this time! (both your fics look SO GOOD)

I'm really excited this week because. Okay, listen. I started a new WIP. I had, like, five already, but we were talking in the server last week about how there are almost no "Alex fell first" fics, which is kind of understandable because it's hard to come up with a scenario where it would be him instead of Henry, BUT! I was thinking about it a couple days ago, and I swear, it was an actual lightbulb moment.

Everyone who's read the book knows Alex had a massive crush on Henry way before he realized it for himself, and I'm convinced that crush goes all the way back to the days of J14 magazine. I mean, come on, sneaking into June's room to touch a picture of Henry's hair? Multiple times? 😂 Alex, bless your heart, babe.

Anyway, that led my train of thought to Alex getting snubbed at Rio, and the whole concept of unrequited crushes, and then came the lightbulb moment: Hanahaki AU. I've seen a few where Henry has it, but only, like, one where Alex does. And now there will be another! This is not the kind of vibe I usually go for with my writing, but it's been fun to branch out!

It's, um, slightly evil (big whumpy angst vibes), as I have already been told several times by multiple people in the server who have seen snippets, but I'm having so much fun writing it. So, here's a snippet from my newest WIP, which will either be titled "i picked the petals, he loves me not" OR "come and meet me in my garden"

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Alex has been snubbed by political peers plenty of times before, and he would be probably snubbed by plenty more, but for some reason this rejection had hurt a hell of a lot more than any other. His heart had dropped into his stomach when Henry turned away from him, with that look on his face like if he didn’t get away from Alex fast enough, he might give him fleas.

The thing is (and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, even to himself), Alex used to look up to Henry. Until pretty recently, as a matter of fact.

Recently, as in, about two hours ago.

He’d always been aware of Prince Henry as a general concept. The royal family is always in the news for some reason or another, so Alex grew up seeing candid shots of Henry with his parents and siblings in magazine spreads, in waiting rooms and grocery store check-outs. But he can still remember the first time he saw a picture of Henry in one of June’s magazines where he hadn’t been with the rest of his family, just featured on his own in one of those locker-sized tear-out posters, with his name printed across the page in big block lettering and a little blurb about his hobbies in the corner. Henry had looked so bright, and happy, and full of life, and easy-going. Alex had been maybe a little bit obsessed with that picture for… a solid two years. Though his obsession with the boy in the picture ended up lasting much longer.

For all the fucking good it did him, in the end.

How does the saying go? Never meet your heroes. Alex gets it, now.

If Henry really is the reason he’s spending his evening coughing up flowers instead of getting wasted at the diving finals with his sister and best friend, Alex doesn’t know if he should be madder at Henry for being a dick, or at himself for being naive enough to believe they could be friends.

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I think I've already seen some of these people's posts on my dash today, but I'm gonna go ahead and tag @read-and-write-, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @inexplicablymine, and @anincompletelist!

#wip wednesday #rwrb #my wips #tag game

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penny00dreadful · 1 year

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Happy WIP Wednesday! I thought I'd share some snippets of my multiple WIPs because I'm obsessed with all of them and the urge to share became too much. These will all eventually be posted both here and on AO3. Some are first drafts and might change slightly and some have already been through rewrites, ALL will be published eventually.

Return of the King - Part 5

Anything further Eddie wanted to say was swiftly lost as the back door was thrown open with a shout from Dustin.

“He’s a vampire?!”

Eddie tilted his head back the whole way so he was looking at Dustin upside down.

“That’s the prevailing theory.”

“Dude!” The next second Dustin had disappeared back inside.

Sitting back up straight again, Eddie glanced over in Hopper's direction.

“A vampire? Really? You’re encouraging this?”

Eddie raised his hands up in surrender. “I’m just calling ‘em like I see ‘em, Hop. The boy’s got fangs. He drinks blood. He’s not dead anymore.”

“Whose blood?! Did he bite you?”

“I wish.” He muttered but evidently not quietly enough if Hopper’s scandalised expression was anything to go by. “No, he didn’t bite me. He stole some cows' blood from the butchers.”

Hopper groaned as he heaved himself up from the chair and let a loud exhale go. “I don’t know why I’m surprised by anything anymore. Fuck it, fine, he’s a vampire. Just another god damn Tuesday in Hawkins.”

Commuppance - The kids meddle in Steve's love life and get their just desserts.

“Eddie, we need you to flirt with Nancy.”

The man in question turned his head slowly and methodically until he was facing Dustin completely, his hand still hovering over the battle map he was prepping.

“Excuse me?”

“If you make Steve jealous, that might be the kick he needs to finally do something.”

“You’re playing with fire here, Henderson. You can’t toy with people’s feelings like that.”

“Who’s toying with feelings? There’ll be no feelings involved.”

“What about Steve’s feelings? What about Nancy’s?”

“It won’t matter once it all works out.”

Eddie’s mouth was set in a firm, grim line. He looked almost angry. But that couldn’t be right.

“And there’s no way this could possibly blow up in your face, right?”

Dustin looked at Eddie like he had six heads. What wasn’t he getting about this? This was how things were done. He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Nancy and Mike into the Harrington basement.

Steve barely glanced up at their arrival, just sending a short smile their way, too deep in conversation with Robin about the news or interior design or whatever the fuck grown ups talk about.

Dustin sent a very pointed look Eddie's way who heaved the most put upon sigh, rising from his seat and giving Dustin the middle finger which he sarcastically reciprocated.

“Hey Nance.” Eddie said, sildling up beside her and oozing charm and charisma. “I'm glad you decided to come today. Don't know what I would've done if I had to go without seeing your pretty face for much longer."

Worship - Reincarnation AU

Their last Life together had been… well there was no word to describe it other than horrible. He’d only ever seen Eddie die so brutally once before.

But those demobats had been…

Fuck.

Something in Steve broke in that last Life.

He’d fought so hard for so long. Scrambling for whatever scrap of Eddie he could get in each Life, over and over and over again.

And Eddie never remembered.

Each new Life for him was a fresh start.

But Steve remembered all of it. He remembered everything. Living, dying, searching for Eddie every time, for years, sometimes decades until he found him.

He supposed it was what he had asked for.

Or rather demanded.

Maybe he was stupidly naive to think that pissing off, disrespecting and insulting Her then demanding he get Eddie back would get him what he wanted, the way he wanted.

Maybe it was a curse.

Steve’s Curse.

Unnamed Dungeons and Dragons AU

“Hunt him down, Harrington.”

Steve glared across the table.

“I’m not your fucking errand boy, Carver. I don’t need your money.”

“No, but you need a quest to become a full Knight. Even your daddy can’t buy you that.”

Steve bristled, his stomach turning sour because the thing was Jason was right. His father had attempted to buy his way, as far as could be bought, into a knighthood though Steve had succeeded through his training all on his own merit not needing the aid of daddy's money. He was nothing if not a talented athlete.

But in order to be fully knighted and earn his station as a Paladin, he needed to complete a quest outside of their small town of Hawkins. And a quest for such a thing could only be approved by the High Priests, which Jason was currently in training to become, serving directly underneath the Head High Priest Henry Creel.

“I hardly think some pissy little bard from the shitty part of town would qualify as a quest.”

“He tried to curse Chrissy, Harrington. Messing with dark shit. Nercromancy. Blood magic. It's a god damn miracle she's even alive. You want a freak like that roaming free?”

Steve scoffed. “It’s not like he’ll ever come back to town. He cut and run fast enough.”

Through the Valley - Post Apocalypse AU

Eddie swiped furiously at his eyes with his bedsheets, trying to will the lump in his throat away. His heart still ached and he knew despite his best efforts he’d be carrying it around with him for the rest of the day. He hated those nights with a burning passion. He didn’t have nightmares like Dustin or Nancy did, he had these dreams. He wept in his sleep, crying until he was dried out and exhausted upon waking up but he wouldn’t trade them in for anything.

At least with these dreams he could still…

It wasn’t important. He had too much shit to deal with today to spend time mourning the past. Their food surplus was getting dangerously low and there hadn’t been a supply drop in weeks though their own vegetable crop was still growing strong. Chester Hagen and his goons were still giving Nancy trouble. They needed extra hands to get their fence back up again and those bandits were still out there. They might have been scared away by Dustin and Scott’s genius and deadly electrical wiring but they weren’t going to stay away for long.

Their settlement was way too valuable an asset to have under their belts from a defensive standpoint alone and if they were able to seize control it could be catastrophic.

And the fucking Ghouls.

A constant trickle of Ghouls stumbling towards their settlement, invariably drawn towards the noise their small community made. Their numbers had started to dwindle a little but they were still a very real threat.

The two bodies that had to be brought home and buried during the last trip to maintain their water tower made that clear enough.

Fuck, they needed food. Everyone was running on fumes and it was making them sloppy. Their sentries were having trouble concentrating, their medical personnel had started to feel they couldn’t perform their duties safely anymore, their smartest minds were waning.

Eddie dragged himself out of bed, the one he’d slept in alone and lamenting the empty space next to him since they first arrived at this estate, nine months ago and fourteen months since...

No.

Too much to do today.

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alexandravakimova · 2 years

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For the ask game - 1, 19, 49, 61

I hope that's not too many

Hey, thanks for the ask!

And it's not too many at all, no worries. :)

You didn't specify who for so I'll just do like half and half.

1. What drives them? What is their ultimate goal? - for Torryn Cousland:

Motivation is like the biggest piece of character development you could do so I shall use my less developed boy. At the beginning of the game, he was just kind of naive and wanted glory or honor or whatever he thought was expected of him. He didn't know really how awful war and death was - he'd been raised as the son of a very powerful family in a time of peace, why would he know it beyond what stories and songs said? Howe's betrayal really shook him, I think. He had no desire to join the wardens and honestly, he probably just wanted to tell his brother what happened and then go hide in the wilds or something. When he and Alistair became the last wardens in Ferelden, he did his duty, because he was the only one who could. Doesn't mean he was happy about it. So, for most of the game, it was just sort of "get this done and then you can move on with your life, whatever is left of it." Then, as his relationship with Morrigan developed, he started focusing on something other than just doing what he had to: he wanted to build a future for the two of them. That drive probably only increased when he found out that they were going to have a child. He put himself in a position of power and married the queen, which seemed like an ambitious and selfish move from the outside, but it was actually done because he wanted to secure something for Morrigan and his son, somewhere they could be safe and that gave them both a very comfortable future. So, in the end, I suppose he was motivated by a desire to protect and take care of his newfound family.

19. What sparks genuine, unadulterated rage in them? - For Iarlaith Hawke

Honestly, Hawke is easy to find things that make him happy or that are funny so this one is good for him. I mean, there's people: Meredith, Petrice, and of course mage rights but what probably really actually enrages him is, hm... Honestly, it might just be not treating people as people or that they're worthwhile despite their class/race/sexuality/etc. He's struggled with homophobia from his mother and her traditionalist views his whole life and it's really messed him up. He, his siblings, and his father have never been able to tell her that they have elven blood because of a different part of those traditionalist views. So, seeing someone be treated as "not enough" or "nothing" probably enrages him to no end.

On another side, his relationship with his mom probably also has made him exceptionally irritated about anyone who won't accept the responsibility for their actions and blame it on others (i.e: she didn't have to go run off or get pregnant, even if that part was an accident. It wasn't his fault he was born). But I'm not sure he lets that side come out as much.

Whatever it is, it comes from his shit relationship with his mom, no doubt. :)

49. How often do they cut their hair, if at all? - For Iarlaith Hawke

Enough to take care of it. He doesn't actually cut his hair much; he lets Anders do it. He likes him playing with his hair. I think it keeps getting slightly longer throughout the acts.

After the end of the game, he cuts his hair short so as to not be recognized as easily.

61. Is there an in-game moment of theirs you think about and just laugh? - For Torryn Cousland

This would be very hard to do for Hawke since there are so many moments I find hilarious.

But my warden... Hm. Honestly all of Awakening is just hilarious. He recruits a bunch of criminals and murderers, makes them a found family, then just goes off never to be seen again. And yet I bet they're all insanely loyal to him no matter what. So, yeah, probably just the fact of who he chose to start rebuilding the order in ferelden. I think he and they are the only peopld who actually find that funny, though.

Thanks again for the ask! I think I wrote you a small novel in response. 😁

#answered asks #my hawke #iarlaith hawke #torryn cousland #my warden #my canon #dragon age

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kiisuuumii · 3 months

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it's okay sometimes to feel like you're just a pebble in the ocean. i've spent much of my early life scared of not existing, but not having enough meaning to keep on going. perhaps it is not normal for us as human beings to approach life this way, but it is our current reality, and we must face it in order to make something of it. our time here, in the grander scheme of things, might be insignificant, but that does not mean our lives have no purpose.

not having direction or purpose is what gives us meaning. you've likely heard this a million times, but it is the act of searching for something to fulfill us which will bring us happiness. whether you place your trust in things imperceptible, things much bigger and incomprehensible than yourself, or just choose not to believe at all, the fact you are contemplating the meaning of it all proves you are going to be okay. oftentimes, when people are hurt and feel diminished, they will submit themselves to whatever torments await them - yet, your head and heart are torn, and it is within that you will find yourself.

one day at a time is all we can hope for; like the previous anon stated, we do need to "do nothing," it is something fundamentally human - we need to reset ourselves in a way, and that can only come when we lay back and appreciate the world as it is, something we normally gloss over when we're so consumed by doing more and being more. in any given lifetime, it can be rare to have someone that has witnessed it all, but there will come a time it will all seem worth it, even if nobody has seen it through from the beginning.

although rare, those people do exist in this world; there will always be another - i'm particularly guilty of not accepting that fact recently. sure, maybe there will never be a person shaped by a unique set of permutations from the beginning of their existence, but that doesn't mean you can't connect to another person the same way again. that is something you will have to trust; that is something you must believe - you are not alone. no matter who comes and goes, life goes on. you never know who is watching.

don't let go of the things which make you whole. whether you choose to place your fate in the hands of something greater, there are things left in our control. if you continue to feel, to write, to love, and to do it all over again, that is the essence of what it means to be human. albeit foolish, albeit stubborn, albeit naive, that is who we are. hopefully, you will come to fully accept and understand yourself and the things which bind you.

im sorry this went on for much longer than it probably needed to be,,

to be honest, ive been pretty guilty of not accepting it either, that there will be another. i've never been particularly good at letting people go; in recent years, i thought i'd gotten better at it, knowing that there will be another, someone who, through connecting with and loving them, will be a reminder of that.

but recently, there's been someone who's inspired a lot of strength in me. just the thought of him, how much he's gone through (even if all i know is the surface of it), the mistakes i've made and promises to them ive broken—despite what's become of us now, i know that he cares, that he always has, because that's who he is, caring and undoubtedly big-hearted. maybe i shouldn't make this what keeps me going and what keeps me together, but admittedly, he does.

i think a lot about what i could do to make him proud of who im becoming, and maybe, in the grander scheme of things, it might be at my detriment to, but all my thoughts about him has led me to making decisions that bring me closer to who i know i am to be, and who i want to be. i'm a messy pile of hot garbage lmao but i love people, to a fault, and i know how to be kind, maybe clumsily, but still kind, and i want to be kinder still. because i believe in his belief in me. because if he believes in me, then there must be something in me thats worth believing in.

you tell me to not let go of the things that make me whole, but what do i do if i've never felt more whole? what do i do when i feel that i should let this person go, for not only my sake, but his too?

sure, i might feel broken, and lost, and unsure of what the future will bring, but all the pieces are there. i just have to put everything back together, and the thought of this person helps to keep me trying, to take the time to fit the pieces back together, to take this life one day at a time.

im sorry this is kinda all over the place,, it just tears me apart, the idea of letting this person go, letting him just become a part of my past. i know i probably need to, again, for my sake and his. i keep hurting myself, and i've no doubt made things harder than they already were for him. its all just kinda a jumbled mess internally rn, wanting to find myself peace, to be better, and to do what's best for him.

#?#to everything else you said i dont feel like i could add anything more #thank you for this friend #im trying to make something out of this suffering #idk if im doing any of it right #but im trying anyway

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the-enigmatic-universe-theory · 8 months

Text

Chapter 1

Arawna Segrey

The stomping of feet, the scratchiness of his voice, the scraping of the knife, the pounding of flesh on flesh. The slamming of the screen door. So many sounds, too many. I just want to get out. Get out, get out, get out. But even after I get out there's noise. The cars, the people, oh GOD the people. They make the most noise. And now I'm going somewhere where the people are numerous, and the noise unending. So much noise.

***

My feet shuffle along the sidewalk, making a scratching noise as I go. Shuffle, shuffle; shuffle shuffle. I left too late, I missed the bus. I'm going to be late and miss most of my classes. By the time I left 2nd period had begun, and although it was a small town, the walk to school was still long; even longer since I had to avoid the new dangerous areas. I used to be able to take the short way, walking across grass patches, and ducking into the alleyways, but the frequent kidnappings prevent it now. It's not like it would be easy to snatch me up and take me away, due to my powers of course, but I’ve gotten into enough fights this morning and received enough bruises, no need to add any more to the list.

I wrap my arms around my small middle, huddling into myself for warmth. The thin red jacket is all I have, and with fall settling in, it might not be enough. I have the money to buy a new jacket, and my job pays decently, but I have no idea whether or not it’ll suddenly go missing within a couple of days. That tends to happen anytime someone brings food, clothing, or anything you can sell, into the house. It's one of those lessons I learned the hard way. I can still remember the day I decided to start hiding my things.

My uncle usually goes out to a bar to drink, except for the times when he has a bunch of his friends staying with us. I try to be scarce around the house when this happens because even if I had no brain I’d know, grown men, beer, and a teenage girl mix about as well as pineapples on pizza. Unfortunately, this was one of those times, and I had no one else’s house to crash at. I didn’t have any other choice but to stay there. Well really, I did, but I know from experience sleeping outside was the last thing you want to do in the middle of winter. So I stayed up in my room, trying to avoid them the best I could. I managed to stay up in my room all night, with little to no interaction with the men. I thought I would be fine, and that I was secure up in my room by myself. It was a mistake to think that, and an even bigger mistake to fall asleep. By the time I woke up that morning, all the money I had saved up, all the things I had bought myself to survive, and all my uncle's friends, were gone.

After that, I took a knife out of the kitchen and started carving out hiding spots. The whole time I was fuming, but I couldn’t blame anyone but myself, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I cursed his name as I stabbed into the wood of my bedroom floor. But I knew it was my fault, for being so careless and trusting of others. I should've known better, and for a while after, I thought I did. I thought I had stopped being that naive little girl who had let strangers take her things, but I hadn’t. It took losing something far more important than everyday items for that little girl to understand. She’s gone now, forced to grow up in the cruel world, but at least I know now, that the only person you can trust in this world, where snakes and serpents are disguised as saints, is yourself.

***

For the rest of the walk to school, I contemplated everything that had happened that morning with my uncle. How I might've been able to avoid the situation. I can’t afford to miss too much more school, I had already been held back a grade, and the sooner I could leave this wretched town the better.

It wasn’t just my uncle that made this town horrible, it was everything. The weather sucked, always being dreary and with little to no sun, even in the summer. There was trash everywhere, making the whole place stink. And as far as I could tell, the people here are all pieces of shit. I’ve met only a handful of decentish people, and even then, the decentness tends to wear off after a couple of days. I’ve been saving up money for a while, since I was 13, and am only making enough to buy myself necessities, plus a little extra - which I save. My pay isn’t bad, it's just that I can’t get as many hours as I need to make more money, with school and all. It helps that I have nothing to do in the summer. The boss of the car wash I work at usually lets me take on more hours then, but still, I don’t know if I’ll have enough to move out when I graduate. My uncle made it clear that, by the time I graduate, I’m getting kicked out, whether I have somewhere to go or not. That's why I’ve been applying everywhere I can, hoping they’ll be able to pay me more than the car wash. I kind of feel bad about leaving them, when I’ve worked for them for almost 6 years, but I need the money.

It's money, and my uncle I'm thinking about when I walk into the school building, signing myself in for being late. I try to clear my head as I make my way down the halls and to class. My 5th period has just started, and luckily, it's the easiest class. Since people began getting inhabited by spirits, and coming back with powers, our school decided to put in a new class. Everyone who has powers has to take it, and for the most part, it's fairly easy. They have us do exercises and different activities to try and help us control our powers. I’ve been taking this class for many years now, so I’m a pro at using my powers. Others. . . not so much. I don’t mind the class, but a lot of times, the people with the least control cause accidents.

Usually, you can hear these accidents happening a mile away: students screaming, banging on the wall, loud explosions. So I'm grateful when I make it to the quiet classroom. I don’t bother knocking on the door, - it's always unlocked in case someone causes a fire - before I use my powers to turn the handle and push it open. The door creaks, and slams into the back wall with a loud bang, letting me know I used too much force. Thanks door.

I turn back to the room, and a set of eyes fix directly on mine. Well, technically, almost everyone in the room has their eyes on me after that display, but these are new eyes. Weirdly enough, they're kind of pretty.

That's the last thing I think before a migraine shoots through my head, my eyes going blurry. My whole body spasms with a deep chill, and I squirm with discomfort, and then it all unexpectedly stops. I look up and for a millisecond we make eye contact. The pretty-eyed boy looks away, breaking eye contact, and giving me a chance to clear my head. The migraine that was once pounding through my skull is now only a dim ache, the chill is gone, but I can still feel it - whatever it was -, like a ghost of a touch. I’m ok, physically at least. I stare at the boy, the only person who could be responsible for this. I’m not stupid, this is a power education class, and before I barged in here, he was the only one standing. Plus, he’s new, and new kids always have to do a power demonstration, I just didn’t think I’d be on me.

“What was that?” I ask him. His face is pink and he still won’t look at me. He has to answer the question, it’s the most important. I don’t like others using their powers on me; my body is my body, and to fully make sure I'm ok I need to know what he did to me.

“I-um kinda sorta, usedmypowersonyou?” He still doesn’t look at me when he says this. It’s like he has a problem with eye contact.

“Well no duh dipshit,” I sigh, “but what do they do?”

“Uhhh it depends, what I did on you was um- mind reading I guess?”

“You guess? What do you mean you guess? Do you not know what your powers do or something?”

“I mean yes and no? I know what some of my powers are, like mind reading and illusion but I don’t know if there’s anymore.” Of course, he doesn’t. This is fucking great! I have an amateur messing with my head and looking into my mind. I swear to god if he fried a part of my brai-.

“Fuck off okay, I only got them a few years ago, excuse me for not being perfect.” Damn, okay, this boy has attitude. Too bad for him cause not only do I have attitude too, but I also happened to have had a shitty morning. I kind of hope he can hear me, so that he fully knows I don’t appreciate some dickwad poking around in my head, seeing things he shouldn’t be seeing. But, what did he see? And then I stop breathing, and even though my lungs start to burn I don’t continue. I’m frozen to the spot, terrified of the answer he might give.

I look at him, with his pink cheeks and pretty eyes that won’t meet mine, and then slowly start to breathe, I need to pull myself together. He’s waiting for an answer. The whole class is waiting for an answer. We’re making a scene, and they’re all watching us, like a new TV show. I don’t blame them, it might’ve been enjoyable for me too if I wasn’t involved. But I am, and everyone is still waiting, and I need to pull. myself. together. I focus on my breathing, evening it out until my breaths are steady and coming at a normal rate. I flex my fingers, curling them into fists and then out. They work fine, not frozen.

I look around at everyone else, they don’t need to hear the rest of this conversation, it’s none of their business.

My gaze focuses back onto the boy, the boy with pretty eyes who still won’t make eye contact with me. Is what he saw that bad? Maybe, but I won’t know until I ask.

“Can we go outside, to talk.?” I ask, gesturing with my hand to the door. “ I promise I won’t bite.” He lets out a light huff, almost akin to a laugh.

“Sure.”

I begin to walk back out of the door, the stupid door that slammed shut. I thought about kicking it for a good second before shaking off the thought. That door had caused me enough problems for one day, I didn’t need to add a stubbed toe to the list.

When we were both outside with the door firmly shut I turned to him.

“What did you see!” I demanded.

“If you're talking about what your uncle did then yeah, I saw that.”

I shook my head. “That’s not specific enough. What exactly was he doing?” Her uncle did a lot of things, and she wasn’t about to reveal more than she needed to.

“I don’t think we should be talking about what he did in a public setting, but since you’re so insistent then I’m talking about him murdering your sister and most of the horrible things he did to you.”

I was shaking my whole body. Out of all the memories he could have seen, every horrible thing, every touch he forced on me, every threat and beating, he sees the thing I didn’t ever want anyone to know about.

I nod, because I don’t know what else to say. This boy is a total stranger, and in a matter of seconds, he has gotten into my head, finding things out about me no one ever should have. “What do you want?” Despite my shaking, my voice is calm, I refuse to be weak.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? What do you want, money, service, a house?”

“What the fuck are you talking about!? The only thing I want is for you to leave me the hell alone!” Is this dude whack?

“You’re the one who asked me out here!?”

“Because I wanted to know what you saw! I wanted to know whether I had to worry about you opening your big mouth to say shit that you shouldn't be saying! So what do you want? What do I have to give you to shut you up about what you saw?” I don’t understand him, what game is he playing? Is he just fucking with my head?? Jokes on him, too late for that, I'm already fucked up as is.

“You don’t have to give me anything! I feel bad enough about invading your privacy like that. If anything I should give something to you so that I’m not guilt-ridden for the rest of my days here.”

I stare at him. “Are you kidding?” I'm in shock, I don’t know what to think about what he just said. Hell, I don’t even know if I believe him. “Are you being serious, like actually?”

“Yeah, Why wouldn’t I? I genuinely feel bad for doing that to you. Like I said can I make it up to you?”

I look away from him, the stranger boy with the pretty eyes who’s apologizing for reading my mind and ‘invading my privacy’. I don’t know what to think of him. I’m used to people treating me like absolute shit, I'm used to insults, and threats, I'm used to mean mean people., I’m not used to this.

“Just, don’t say anything. It isn’t your problem. You don’t owe me anything except your silence. Besides, I don’t take charity, from anyone.”

“Fine, I won’t give you anything. But, could you possibly show me around the school? You don’t have to of course, it’s kinda weird for me to ask that of you now, sorry.”

“To be honest, I don’t want to. I want to go . . . somewhere that isn’t here, and forget this happened. I want to wish you out of existence because I don’t like that you know what you know. But I will show you around I mean, because I'm not a total shithead, and the sooner you manage to navigate the school the more time you’ll be able to spend figuring out your mind power thingies, and that's something you're gonna need to do to survive here. Other people won’t be as chill about you getting in their minds. Got it?”

“Yeah, I know I just wasn’t expecting someone to y'know break down the door in the middle of class, apologies for being surprised.”

“ I didn’t break down the door. I just closed it, a tad too roughly.”

“You almost sent it off its hinges.”

“Almost, I didn’t break it down.” I let out a sigh of frustration. The door is perfectly fine.

“Anyways. Are you going to show me around now?”

“Yeah, I guess. But we should go back to the classroom first. Tell the teacher what we're doing.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that, Let’s go..”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I say, then turn toward the classroom.

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thestalwartheart · 2 years

Note

Are you still accepting prompts? If yes, then how about: Closer?

Could be Closer as in Closer by Josef Salvat (a favorite of mine that always makes me think of Q and Bond) or just plain Closer for you to work your magic on ☺️

Love,

Mia

Hello!

I'm so sorry you've waited ages for this. I was so close with it so many times, but it took me until today to crack it.

Again, it's longer than I'd usually make these (1750ish words), so feel free to read on AO3 if you'd prefer. Under the cut for those who'd rather read here.

(Oh, and the gif doesn't mean this is related to Spectre - it's not. You can ignore all timelines in canon! I just liked the mood.)

Enjoy! 🥰

it gets the better of me.

Bond and his Quartermaster get on well. They’re two different beasts; one a grand old warship and the other a stinging cyber virus. And yet, they have enough in common with each other for there to be a pull. Bond is familiar with the chemistry that constantly brings two people into the same orbit, and he feels it with Q. He and Bond both share a taste for the finer things, and they’ve recognised each other as a luxury worth having.

All right, Bond might be a bit ahead of the game on that last point.

The Quartermaster is easy to read but much harder to get to know. Bond spends weeks trying to hack into his file to no avail, then even longer trying to draw information out of him over Q branch benches, pub tables and on Q’s lovely, surprisingly old-fashioned couch.

He doesn’t find out much, but one thing does become immediately apparent: Q is easily scared away.

He draws back from every intentional touch Bond initiates. Each laugh or genuine smile he gives is short-lived and quickly shut away. Bond’s asked him to dinner a dozen times and been rebuffed kindly after every invitation. In the aftermath, Q withdraws a little further until, like sinking into gravity, he’s drawn in again.

But he is drawn in. Q banters with him like it’s going out of style. He orders an extra helping of his takeaway dinners when they’re both working late. On the rare occasion where they both make it to work drinks, Bond will occasionally feel the touch of Q’s hand on his leg as he drunkenly explains some technical concept. During the many comfortable stretches of silence between them, Bond will sometimes see him open his mouth and then close it again, shaking off whatever compulsion has come over him.

It’s a dance; one Bond is happy to keep moving to as long as Q is. And until Bond’s latest dinner invitation, he would have said Q was content with dancing too.

“If you think I’m about to compromise my career to have an office fling, you’re more of an idiot than I thought you were,” Q snaps. His hands are clutching a throwing knife, knuckles white.

Stupidly, Bond feels offended. Juvenile as it is, it takes an enormous effort to keep his expression even, and he’s not entirely sure he manages it. He’s being hypocritical, of course, because Q’s right. He’s the youngest Quartermaster in history, certainly a rare bird, and Bond has no right to a hair on his head, even if Q’s assumptions about his intentions aren’t entirely correct.

It doesn’t help that Bond doesn’t even know what he wants from Q, except to be closer to him. He wants to know what those dextrous hands feel like trailing over his skin, to find out what that thick mop of hair feels like between his fingers, to hear what Q’s laugh sounds like when it’s free, easy and unrestrained.

Truthfully, beyond the ability to keep talking, touching and exploring, Bond rarely knows what he wants from the people he falls for. He’s never had the luxury of time to consider anything further, but Q is either naive enough or demanding enough to ask him to consider everything.

Bond resolves not to ask again and says so to Q.

“Good,” Q replies. “See that you don’t.”

Two days later, he proffers his next professional favour from Q Branch. He receives a resigned, knowing look in response, and at the end of their fifteen-minute meeting, Bond can’t help but feel as though he’s lived up to some rather disappointing expectations.

----------

Despite Q’s help, the next mission goes tits up.

Bond spends two weeks in Medical with swelling to his head, three broken ribs and a stab wound. Every day involves some new kind of humiliation, and all at once, it’s very, very clear to him that he’s getting too old for this rubbish.

He feels sore and ancient when he leaves the hospital on a quiet Wednesday night. Moneypenny picks him up and gives him a look bordering on pity.

“Home?” She asks, pulling out of her parking space.

“No. Q’s.”

She stops the car at an angle that would undoubtedly frustrate any drivers behind her. There aren’t any, but he suspects she wouldn’t give a shit if there were. She twists back from looking out the rear window and squints at him.

“What are you doing, James?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, Eve.”

She mutters something about men being idiots, and he tunes her out. He’s heard the rant before because most men are idiots, at least around MI6, Bond especially.

The drive is tense. He’d never been especially persistent with asking Moneypenny to dinner. On her first refusal after Shanghai, he’d let the matter go. Since then, oddly enough, she’s confined her flirting to her office. Whenever he meets her outside of work, she approaches him with weariness and caution, and he’s getting awfully fucking sick of it, given she still calls herself a friend.

“He came by the hospital a few times, you know,” Moneypenny says, interrupting his thoughts. “I think he likes you.”

“I know.” After a minute of silence, he looks over at her and confesses, “I like him too.”

She closes her eyes briefly. Bathed in the vivid red of a traffic light, she looks quietly mutinous. “You’re going to hurt him.��

Bond bites back a sarcastic response because even when Q isn’t in the vicinity, he deserves Bond’s honesty.

“I’m going to try very hard not to.”

He suspects there are a thousand replies she’d like to give him, but no sooner does she park the car outside Q’s house than he’s out of the car and waving her goodbye.

The sight of Q opening the door drains him of all his tension. The relief he feels at seeing him is bone-deep, and though his ribs are killing him, he’s buoyed enough by the sight in front of him to stay standing.

“Oh. 007!”

“May I come in?”

Q’s house looks the same as ever, if a touch more cluttered than it usually is. Bond has a vague, hazy memory from the hospital of Q ranting about his hours, so it’s possible he just hasn’t been home to clean. He apologises for the mess while he clears up, stuffing his arms with as many mugs, cat toys and weapons catalogues as they can hold. When he’s done, he looks around the room and gives a short, approving nod. The whole routine is so endearing that Bond can’t help himself.

“Say yes to dinner. Please.”

Q’s eyes snap to where Bond’s leaning against the couch. Hurt blazes across his face, and Bond feels it like a punch to the gut.

Christ. As if he wasn’t sore enough.

“Your audacity is breathtaking, 007.”

Bond walks over and takes him by the shoulders, trying to keep his touch light and comforting. “So I’ve been told. It doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Q sighs, frustrated.

“I don’t know either,” admits Bond. “I don’t know what I want from anything in life, Q. All I know is that from the first day I met you, I wanted to spend time with you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I’ve told you before. I won’t ruin my career for an office fling.”

“I don’t want a fling.”

Q narrows his eyes. “You just said you didn’t know what you wanted.”

True enough, but he knows what he doesn’t want, which is to leave Q in the dust like a mission target. He’s got six weeks of leave lined up, which seems enough time to figure out whether he and Q can make a go of this. Maybe it’ll also be enough time to figure out whether he ever wants to pick up a gun again, though he suspects that decision was made the moment he woke up in hospital with his body feeling like one giant knife wound.

Bond’s never been one to overthink a decision, after all.

“I’ve got six weeks of medical leave. I’d like to spend it getting to know you.”

“I’m sure you already know me,” says Q, fixing his gaze somewhere near Bond’s navel.

Bond tilts his chin up.

“Some of you, maybe. But I don’t know what you do at home outside of hosting the occasional dinner party. I don’t know if you actually enjoy art or whether all that talk at the National Gallery was just posturing.”

Q snorts. “This is some way to woo a man, Bond.”

Bond ignores that. Instead, he runs his thumb over Q’s cheekbone and catalogues the way Q’s eyelashes flutter in response.

“I don’t know what you look like first thing in the morning,” Bond murmurs. “And I can wait for that, but I’d like to find out eventually.”

Q’s posture is unbearably stiff. The tension doesn’t relent until, being a competent enough spy to know when something is a lost cause, Bond lets him go. He’s got a feeling he’s cocked this up monumentally, that perhaps he cocked it up months ago by being the absolute prick Q expected him to be.

“Tell me to bugger off, and I will. I’ll never ask again.”

A long silence follows, where the only sounds Bond can hear are those of the ticking clock above Q’s fireplace and one of the cats meowing from the other room. He’s considering making his way to the door when Q grabs onto his arm. His grip is tight, as if he’s trying to draw courage from this one action alone.

Bond feels hope spark in his chest.

It dawns on him that he hasn’t felt such a thing in years, not since he saw Vesper’s bare décolletage in Venice. This time, it’s different. Slower-burning, certainly, but no less desperate.

“Forgive me,” whispers Q. “I’m not a brave man, I…”

“You’re plenty brave.”

Q gives him a cautious smile. “Well, then. There’s a lovely wine bar down the road that does excellent tapas. Does Friday at seven work?”

Bond grins, a ridiculous thing with teeth that hurts his battered face. He puts a hand over the one Q has resting on his arm and delights in the flush on the other man’s cheeks.

“Perfectly.”

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond fanfiction #007 fest #007 fest 2022 #teamcivilian

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harrysgloves · 3 years

Text

Three to tango

story summary: You, Harry, and Florence have a good time in your makeup trailer.

warnings: Language // THIS IS P*RN WITH LIKE ZERO PLOT // Threesome // w|w // spitting // oral (female receiving) // i have no idea what a production company is so don't come for me.

a/n: Brushing off the metaphorical cobwebs and finally getting back into writing! Woo-hoo! Ending could have been better but... meh. Also, I'm posting from mobile. If it looks weird, blame Tumblr ✌😍

REQUESTED: by @iwannaholdyoutight- and @hazgoldenstyles

And also by all these people... sorry it took so long.. 😁

>>><<<

"Stop movin'." You grumbled for the millionth time that morning. Your focus on covering up all these damn tattoos that you loved had become one of the worst things you had to do almost every morning.

"It tickles." He whined as the makeup brush ran over the inside of his arm. He instantly flinched away from the brush the moment it glided against a particularly sensitive spot.

"Harry!" You groaned, your eyes closed in frustration when he shot you the most adorable puppy eyes.

"'M sorry, kitten." He cooed, his lower lip pouted out when you sighed loudly, grabby hands tried to enclose around your waist before you smacked them away.

"H, I gotta get this done or you're gonna miss set time."

"Wanna kiss." Those big green eyes flashed up to you from his spot in your makeup chair and you knew there was no way you could say no.

"One kiss." You clarified, knowing damn well he'd use kissing you as a distraction from being tickled again.

He nodded eagerly before leaning slightly up to your level. Your eyes narrowed, still not sure you could trust that he wasn't going to divert your attention but his lips.

God, his fucking lips.

They looked so memorizing. The light sheen of chapstick he'd applied earlier was still lingering across the plush pink cushions. His tongue wetting them, taunting you to come closer, and it worked.

You were so naive to think he wouldn't do this.

You squeaked as his hands gripped the fleshy curve of your hips. His lips twitched up into a smile against your own when he pulled you forward onto his lap as quickly as he could.

You knew you should have tried to protest a bit more. You should have attempted to keep him on track but when his thigh pressed against your clothed core, you knew you were done for. His tongue licked into your mouth as his hand got a firm grip on the round flesh of your ass.

"I see what you two do in here." That sweet voice floated through the thickening air in your makeup trailer as she opened the door. Your eyes lazily blinked open to see your smug boyfriend smile wide across his face.

Whatever snarky come back that was sitting on the tip of your tongue was quickly choked down to the back of your throat when you looked up to see her wearing that.

Who knew a robe could turn you on so much?

"Damn." Harry finally commented after your not so subtle shifting of your hips against his thigh. Now he completely understood why you'd suddenly gone silent.

"Shut up." She mumbled under her breath. Her cheeks flamed red from your shameless stares.

"You look great, baby." You smiled brightly, your hand extended out for her to take. "Mhm." Harry's quick agreement had both you and Flor rolling your eyes, but a small smile formed at the corner of her lips.

"Wait til you see what he's got to wear." She smiled brightly, her silky soft hand wrapped tightly in yours as she walked towards the both of you.

"Better hurry up then," you practically jumped off Harry's lap, his lust filled eyes quickly turned fearfully as your eager hands reached for your set of brushes. "Hold him down for me."

"Gonna pay for this later, sweetheart." Harry grumbled as Florence's hand held down his arm.

"Sort of counting on that, Harold. Now, be a good boy and hold still."

>>>

The rest of your day had been absolute torture. Your core ached, your underwear were beyond ruined, and you couldn't wait another minute for the both of them to finally be off set.

Instead, the both of them casually took their time, leisurely hanging around to talk to other cast and crew while you were basically jumping out of your skin to get them back into the privacy of your trailer.

After 30 minutes of them both shooting you sweet smiles and well disguised sultry eyes, you'd had enough. Your feet carried you as quickly across the lot to your haven, your fist clenched in your hand almost as tightly as your core.

You were dripping and the both of them knew you were having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.

It started out innocent enough, Harry's tattoos needed to be touched-up about a million times with the edge of his suit rubbing away the makeup there. You had been practically drooling over the both of them all day but when he saw your legs tighten together, he could help but lay it on thick. His hand rested on the small of your back as he circled around you, nose pressed almost completely against your ear as he whispered a raspy thank you.

Florence was just as bad and she wasn't ever the instigator out of the three of you. She couldn't help it when she heard a soft whimper leave your lips when she brushed a few hairs off your forehead when you were redoing her makeup after lunch.

She smiled sweetly, too sweetly, before those plush lips pressed tightly against your own. Her hand laced around your jaw to pull you tighter into her kiss.

She pulled away from you before you were even close to being done. "Only fair that I get to makeout with you in this chair if Harry gets to do it all the time."

You felt like you could combust from how turned on you were and you were done waiting for them to do something about it.

You practically slammed the door to your trailer behind you, making sure to lock it before laying yourself out across your couch that sat in the corner of your room.

If they weren't going to do something about it, you would. Your hands fumbled around with the pesky pants that covered your legs, until you were finally free enough to touch where you needed.

The sigh of relief, shuddering feeling that ran through your body from the contact you were craving only lasted a moment before you heard a metal key fumbling around with the locks on your door.

"Couldn't wait for us?" Harry chuckled, his keys to your trailer thrown on your table top.

"You two were taking forever!" You glared at him through your open legs.

"Told you she couldn't wait any longer." Florence giggled as she pushed her way past Harry. Her hands on her hips but a smile danced on the corner of her lips.

"Are you two going to help me here or?" You were cocky, impatient, and your fingers weren't anywhere near as good as theirs was.

"Might just watch." Harry shrugged with a smug smile as he plopped down on the end of the couch. The furniture was barely big enough for the three of you to sit normally. His hands moved your legs to lay over top of his own. Your eyes could have shot daggers through him as he loosened his tie, his legs spread wide enough that your hand bumped his thigh with every slow circle around your clit.

"Baby." You whined, your pleading eyes flashing towards Flor. Who was already wearing nothing but a smile, her robe abandoned on the floor, and if you weren't so insanely turned on you would have turned to stick your tongue out to Harry. Gloating that at least one of them was nice enough to help you.

Having sex with them always seemed to be frenzied, blurs of quick paced moments that seemed to fly by.

Her thighs rested on either side of you as Harry peeled away the drenched lacy fabric between your legs.

Her tongue dominating your own as she pulled down your top enough to free your breast. Her hands pinching and kneading across them as your back arched further off the couch.

You could hear Harry mumbling out a slur of curses, followed by the sound of his zipper. Your legs were bumped up and down in time with his strokes along his swollen cock.

"Soaking my leg, kitten." He groaned at the sight of your cunt soaking the thin material of his brown suit.

"Thought you were just gonna watch." Florence chuckled, her perfectly pouty lips swollen from how hard she'd been kissing you. The edges of them barely touching your own as she talked to Harry.

"Was gonna but she's so fuckin' wet, Flor." His voice was deeper than usual, gravelly, slow, "Bet I could jus'...."

Your jaw fell open, your back arched off the couch when his fingers filled you. A wild moan ripped from your lungs when he curled them just right.

You could already feel the cord tightening in your lower stomach. You had been so wound up all day long from looking at them you were practically ready to snap within seconds.

"Awe, poor thing's already about to cum." Florence cooed, her hand around the back of your neck, teasing your jaw with the edge of her nose.

You always loved hated how well they could read you. How their teasing words made your face burn and your pussy flood with need.

When she was harshly shifted down further into your chest, her own sweet sounding moan falling from her lips, you couldn't help your own snide remark, "who's the one going to cum too quickly now?"

She probably would have snapped right back at you but she couldn't utter out anything more than whimpers. You knew the feeling, Harry's tongue had a way of doing that, making you both shut up and he had proudly used it on more than one occasion to get you two to stop bickering about dumb stuff.

Your hand laced through her blonde locks, her lips attached to your neck whenever she could control her mouth long enough to kiss your sweet spots. Your nipples peaked at the contact of her breast against your own, Harry's hand still pumped lazily against your sweet spot, his thumb running tight circles around your clit, and while it wasn't enough, you weren't complaining. You weren't ever sure how he managed to focus on eating one of you out while fingering the other when you knew damn well he was about to combust himself.

You knew she was close when her breathing became erratic, her chest heaving against yours. Her whole body shaking as her orgasm washed across her, her panting barely broke when you felt his warm tongue slipping through your folds.

You moaned at the feeling, your hips instantly shifted downwards, craving every bit of contact you could get from him.

You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers with every thick swipe of his tongue across your clit. Your eyes barely staying open when soft kisses were pressed lazily against your neck.

Such a contrast to the harsh grasp of Harry's free hand digging into your one thigh. His gruts and groans were only muffled by the deafening sound of your soaking core.

Florence perked up her head from your chest, carefully turning herself completely around. Her legs on either side of your head as she draped herself across you to watch Harry at work.

Her sweet honey only inches from your face and fuck did you want a taste. You wet your lips, hands pushing her thighs down but she wouldn't budge.

Your huff of protest was quickly choked down when Harry's tongue ran tight circles around your clit.

"Gonna share?" That sweet voice asking that innocent question about broke you. Your walls clenched tightly trying to not get Harry to stop his fingers from slipping out of you, almost crying when they did anyway.

"Course, baby."

You squeaked, your legs pushed backwards by your thighs, your body almost folded in half.

"Fuck, you got her soaking the couch."

You were suddenly very appreciative about the fact neither one of them could see the embarrassment burning through your face. Your forehead pressed to Florence's leg as you whined, not wanting them to point how just how turned on you were.

You heard two simultaneous shushing sounds before your lower lips were pulled apart, the cool air licked across your slick, only making you whine louder.

When you heard and felt Harry's spilt against your core you thought you were done for. Lip tucked so tightly between your teeth you could taste the faintest hint of metallic against your tongue.

Then the softest kitten lick had you losing your mind, her tongue collecting all of his saliva on your clit before swirling around your entrance.

"Fuck," you cried, your nails digging crest moons into the flesh of Florence's thighs. "please, just fuck me already!"

"Don't think she can take anymore teasing Flor." Harry chuckled, yeah, chuckled, from between your thighs.

"But I was having fun." She pouted, her tongue stopping its mesmerizing movements.

"Can 'ave fun with her after." Harry said as he started to shed the layers of his suit.

"I'm literally right here!" You complained, your huff of annoyance jammed down your throat when Harry pulled up by your legs. Your face now exposed to his smirking, mischief filled eyes.

"We know, baby," he cooed, almost too sweetly, something about the look behind his eyes made your pussy flutter but your mind anxious about how sore you'd be tomorrow. "Ass up for me."

You eagerly nodded your head, trying to roll over in your place before the tsking clicks of his tongue stopped your movements.

"Like this." He said, pulling you off the couch. Your knees on the hard linoleum floor, your elbows resting on the seat of cushion in front of you. Giving Flor just enough space to sit pretty right in front of you.

Your arms instinctively circling around her thighs, pulling her core down to mouth. Her moans filled the small space around you. Vibrating off the walls with an echo.

"Should 'ave done this in 'ere before." Harry mumbled more to himself than to either one of you as his tip teased your entrance. Your hips swayed instantly at the contact, slowly backing up the little bit you could to feel him slip inside of you.

He hissed, his fingers gripped the round flesh of your ass tightly before he surged forward, stuffing you to the brim with his cock.

"I ruin this pussy 'most everyday and you're still so fuckin' tight." He gritted out through his teeth, your walls clenched down around him at his words.

"Guess you're not fucking her good enough then."

Your eyes widened in disbelief belief, disconnecting from her core so your mouth could gape in shock.

Did she hate you being able to walk?

"That so?"

"'S what I said."

"Kitten," You squeaked when you were lifted by your shoulder, your back against Harry's chest. His hands snaked under your shirt just long enough to rip it off. "you can thank Flor tomorrow for why you won't be able to sit."

"She'll probably be thanking me." The blonde rolled her eyes playfully teasing but enjoying the fact she was getting under his skin.

"Need me to stop, just tap my leg," his deep voice husked into your ear. Your hand tapping his leg, showing him you understood, before you were hurled back in front of Florence's core by the back of your head. "good girl, now lick."

You had Harry go hard on you before but when he sheathed himself fully inside of you in one go, you knew you were really going to be in for it.

Your tongue tried to desperately get Flor off as fast as you could, your fingers slamming into her sweet spot, as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You had a hard time knowing where to focus. Her addictive taste or his marksman worthy precision thrusts into your g-spot.

Your body felt like warm liquid was being pumped through your veins. Both of them gripping onto you at different ends, his hips grinding against your ass as he sat balls deep in your pussy. Her hips dragging against your mouth, fucking herself against your face.

The sound of their collective moans slicked through the sticky, sex filled, air around you. Your mind lost in that space of non-thinking as your body moved back and forth between the two of them.

"Gonna cum all over my cock, sweetheart?" Your walls tightened around him as her fingers dug deeper into the back of your head. Her own cord snapping only moments before your own.

The white burning light washing through your body followed by the familiar gush of fullness in your lower tummy.

"Holy shit," Florence breathed out, her arm dropped across her forehead.

"Why haven't we done that here before?" Harry asked through short breaths.

"'S company property." You mumbled against the couch, your head buried into the soft material as your legs gave out to lay on the heaven-like cold floor below you. "We literally just said fuck you to New Line Cinema."

You heard chuckling from either side of you, both of them still slightly out of breath.

"Hope we don't work with them again then."

#harry styles x reader #florence pugh x reader #harry styles x florence pugh x reader #harry styles x you #Florence pugh x you #Florence pugh x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #florence pugh fanfic #florence pugh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #mine #writing #threes company #three to tango #in the middle

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bored-storyteller · 4 years

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Anon request: Dorm leaders reaction headcanons to their darling saying "i love u" for the first time?

26- Twisted Wonderland, Dorms Leader x Reader (pt. 1)

Riddle Rosehearts

- If he is in a state of agitation or anger, it’s a great way to quell the wrath of the Dorm Leader.

- Frankly, you'll catch him off guard. Riddle doesn't have much experience in such matters. His big eyes will look at you in disbelief, in a mixture of hope and fear.

- Truly, why should you love him? He is certainly not charismatic like Cater or handsome like Leona. He is not such a good company. So why?

- Maybe he never even thought of wanting you, it was enough for him to have you near despite his bad temper, he was already grateful. Yet you are so vulnerable and sincere in front of him right now.

- It must be a good sight to see that young face of him coloring with a sweet shade of red, which, however, is not due to the usual anger.

- He won't speak right away. You're going to have to tell him again, you're going to have to reassure him you're serious, because he's afraid to believe it.

- Are you really his? Of all the guys around, did you really choose him?

- “I… I will make you happy! I solemnly promise you! "

- Those words came out more shrill and far less solemn than they wanted to be, and that embarrasses him only more, yet he can't help but adore the happiness that suddenly illuminates the depths of your eyes.

- Oh yes, he will do anything to make you happy.

Azul Ashengrotto

-"I love you"? Are these the exact words you used?

- Oh, such an open manifestation of your feelings ... maybe he got it wrong? Maybe you were telling someone else, even if it's the two of you alone in the room? Were you perhaps reading a novel?

- Your gaze falls from him, embarrassed. Pretend you haven't said anything, but to him that's just confirmation.

-"I love you". What harsh words. It’s not a simple "I like you", it’s more. Are you sure what you say? After all, he is nothing more than a good-for-nothing octopus. Could he ever deserve it, your love? When would he earn it?

- The smile that appears on the boy's lips could be unpleasant, but if it appears contemptuous, it only serves to hide the insecurity inside.

- Of course, you spent a lot of time together, you were looking for him often, and he understood that you are fond of him, for some reason. At first he veiled your desire to meet him, but then you became part of his daily life, it was pleasant and reassuring to have you around.

- But love him? How can you be sure?

- "You know, you might find me really repulsive." These are the words he tells you. Not very romantic, but extremely true for him. You know, so why do you talk without thinking? You can't fool him like that.

- "As long as it's you, I love you." You say. Your voice is now extremely steady, and your gaze has now abandoned the embarrassment, planting itself in his, now disarmed like that of a child.

Malleus Draconia

- Malleus is glad in his heart that a lovely creature like you doesn't fear him as darkly as most people.

- You are extremely serious, and sincere. He hadn't planned it. So what's the price for your love? Oh, what a silly question. He knows it, and is certainly happy to pay for it.

- If around him the affection of his young devotees surround him and in any case he has by now made friends with solitude, your presence is a cheerful ray of light in the monotonous days of an ancient creature.

- The years on his shoulders have not made him naive, and he has never failed to notice your gaze that repeatedly lingers admiringly on his noble figure, and he smiles sweetly amused by that tender child love. He loves you.

- To hear you say it, however, is another matter entirely. It's like shining a spotlight on something so unspoken that he never believed would be revealed in the duration of your brief existence.

- It's no different than usual. You are peacefully reading in solitude, and yet right now like a spell those words slipped out of your lips: "I love you".

- His beautiful green eyes are a sight that you would not miss for anything in the world, but in that moment they manifest such perplexity that you cannot stand. What a fool you are, you wretched creature compared to the mighty king.

-But the smile that slowly paints itself on the noble's handsome face is not at all a mockery. You are the little keeper of his heart, have you really never noticed?

- Before you know it, his lips are lovingly placed on your cheek, sweet and protective.

- The ephemeral flower and the ancient dragon, perhaps it is not as strange as it seems. He likes the idea, and after all you too.

- "I love you with all my life."

Leona Kingscholar

-"I love you."

Wait, what?

- Weren't you two arguing until a second ago? Was he wrong?

- He looks at you confused, suddenly silent, waiting for you to say a "I didn't say anything" or something similar.

-But your face red with agitation belies his theory. You are so embarrassed, and even if anger still shines on the edge of your irises, your hands press guilty to your lips.

-Leona is not a child, nor a naive one. He already knows, he sees how you are around him, how you look for him, how you smile at him. Even when you fight he knows that you are attracted to him. Your eyes say it, your sweet smell says it.

-He loves you. It was difficult for him to accept it, or to understand why. But the truth is it, around you he can just be himself, no matter how hateful he can be, you will always love him. When everyone looks at him with admiration, you look at him with pride.

-He knows that you want his happiness, but he would never have thought that you would come to show something so fragile, just to make him understand how your hard words are only aimed at his good.

-What were you arguing about, then? Did it really matter?

-He doesn't have great reactions, should he? All it does is approach you, pleased, to take your hand. His ears and tail snap with delight.

- “If this is the truth, then be prepared, my little mouse. Once I have eaten you, you will have no way of escaping me. "

-Ah, what a romantic way to tell you to stay by his side.

Note (?): Hello people! I'm back? Maybe! I confess that these have been difficult months. It's not over yet, but it's no longer important. I think it's time to take back my life, from serious things (I started studying and working again), to these little things that I like to do. I'll post something more clear in the near future (and I will open the requests), I just didn't want to write these things under a probably forgotten request, but it seemed to me the best way to reactivate and apologize to those who still remember me. Thank you very much, see you very soon!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #sorry everyone

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 19

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The atmosphere changed in a snap. Everyone had felt it, except Peter.

Peter's early arrival had you all floored, especially you and Bucky. Oblivious to Peter, you were both dumbfounded, like deer caught in headlights. But this wasn't the best time to process what was going to happen next. You had to think off your feet. Yoy had to show Peter that there was no more than surprise in your faces.

Peter was finally here. That's what matters right now.

The instrumentals of Hungry Eyes kept playing in the background. Bucky's microphone created a feedback sound once he let it rest on his sides, making you all wince. Peter ditched his bags (which magically doubled), and strode towards you, engulfing you in a hug. Although he reeked of damp, mossy grass, and wood, you hugged him back.

"I got in early! How great is that?" He greeted you with enthusiasm laced in his voice. "Oh god, I've missed you, y/n!" He said into your ear.

The rest of the group, laid back on their comfortable seats, watched the whole thing unfold in front of their very eyes. You’d definitely pay to see Nat's look on her face right now.

"Yeah, you did!" you patted his back before pulling away, giving him the best smile you could do. "I've missed you, too. Welcome back, Parker. It's been quite a damn week without you."

Bucky was solid as a rock before Peter moved towards his spot (Bucky gave me a quick glance and a wry smile which you then returned; afterwards, you bit your lip looking at the exchange between the two) and hugged him tight as they exchanged their formalities. "It's nice to have you back, Peter."

"It is nice to be back." Peter replied, pulling away. "Whew, that one week went by real slow, huh? Feels like ages!"

"Yeah." Bucky glanced at you one more time. This time, it was longer. "No kidding."

"Alright everyone, it's nice to see you all together."

The group mumbled agreeably.

"Sam," Peter acknowledged, doing his signature finger gun pointed towards him, "I don't even know why you're here but I will as soon as I take a quick shower right upstairs and get these bags sorted out."

"You might want to take a long one there, buddy." Sam breathed out, fanning the air. "You smell like a caveman."

"Sam." You scolded, shaking your head.

"Yes, babydoll?" He jeered, which you and Bucky didn't like.

Most especially Bucky.

And Peter as well.

You gave Sam a look, hidden from Peter's view, of course, careful not to raise any kind of suspicion. But boy, was Sam giving you and Bucky a hard time. The group knew why he called you that, of course. But not Peter.

"Babydoll?" Peter repeated, a confused expression crossing his face as he turned towards you. "Why is he calling you that ridiculous nickname?"

Peter had always hated when men called you, as he put it, "ridiculous" nickname. You knew if he could punch them all, he would but because of Steve's number one rule (no fighting in the bar), he couldn't. It all started ever since you worked in the bar. You weren’t getting much attention when you were a waitress but you guess, when men see a woman behind the counter making their drinks, apparently, they think you’re easy, and naive, and would fall for their "charm" by calling you nicknames. One minute you’re "darling", the next you’re "doll" or "baby" or, the worst of them all, "mon chéri."

God, did men really think women would be turned on by a French nickname with a horrendous French accent? Perhaps, the idiots do.

You suddenly wondered if Peter felt the same.

"He's just kidding." You mumbled, taking him away from the group. "You know how Sam is."

You started to lead him further towards the door where his bags were.

"I know how he is, y/n." He grew more agitated now, triggered by what Sam had called you. "I've known him longer than you. Okay, what on earth is going on here?" Peter turned around once more, facing them all. His hands were all over the place. Exaggerated gestures that furthered his confused state. "What happened in that one week I was gone? Jeez."

"Hey." You made Peter focus his attention back towards you by grabbing him by the shoulders. By this time, the instrumentals on the karaoke machine were gone. "We get that you're really confused right now and you're tired so why don't you go and take a shower. The night is still young, Parker. I promise we'll tell you everything the second you come back here."

Of course, not everything.

The dead air whistled around, which you hated. He glanced at the group, who was waiting for a response. Their eyes were all on you and Peter. He finally let out a sigh, his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry, it's just been kind of a long drive."

With that, Peter scurried towards the apartment to set down his bags and take a shower. He left a trace of awkwardness in the air once he left.

"Is it just me," Nat started as you walked towards the booth, "or did he grow taller? Did he go to, like, a magic place or something?" Everyone looked at her with knitted brows. "Jesus, I'm just lightening up the mood." She said, hands raised up.

You strode towards Sam, a rush of heat climbing its way towards your face. "Seriously? You had to call me that?"

Sam chuckled nervously, eyes flickering between you and his best friend. "I-it was just a joke! I didn't know he'd take it seriously. And helloooo," he said in a singsong voice, dragging the o, "I'm drunk."

"Being drunk isn't an excuse. It should never be." Bucky said, leaning against the booth. He stood with much authority which you found enticing. But you digressed. "You still shouldn't have said it."

"And besides," you chimed in, "Parker hates it when people give me nicknames."

"Alright. I am sorry." He said. His eyes examined you and Bucky. "But how do you think he's going to react when he finds out his favorite person in the world is calling his best friend babydoll in bed?"

You were dumbstruck. Like it was some kind of question in a trivia game you didn't know the answer to. You couldn't think straight hearing the fries grinding in Nat's teeth, probably enjoying the drama unfolding in front of her eyes, Steve's fingers tapping on the wooden table and Nick's fast breathing.

You took a deep breath, and tried hard to ignore all these annoying sounds.

Sam was right. If Peter's reaction to the nickname was already bad, what more if he knew about the truth between you and Bucky? How could he possibly react to it?

"Look." You said, approaching Bucky, and grabbing his pinky with yours. For comfort. "We're still not ready to tell him but we will."

"Yes, soon." Bucky agreed.

"We're just finding the right time."

The truth was, you weren't any close to finding the "the right time." You had been racking our brains since last night on when to tell him. After setting on the when, then you’d move to the next phase of the plan which was how. Now that Peter had come back, you knew you needed to think and act fast before he found out about you and Bucky from other people.

"In the meantime," you said, grabbing your phone and finding Marco's name on my contact list, "let's just enjoy this party as it is. Steve threw this party for a reason and we are going to enjoy it. With or without Peter. No blabbing or hinting — yes I'm talking about you, Sam — about me and Bucky. No nicknames, no references. Nothing."

"You're asking all of us to keep your dirty little secret?" Nick asked. "While we're all drunk?"

"You and Sam are." Bucky chimed in, grabbing their beer bottles. "Steve and Nat aren't so I'm keeping a close eye on you two." He turned towards you, faces close in proximity, and gave you the bottles to stow away. "No more drinks for those two idiots."

Youbnodded and took the beers away from Sam and Nick which earned yoy a couple glares. Nick pouted afterwards like a baby, eyeing the beer bottles in your hand. "No, Nick. I'm cutting you off."

"Take his, not mine!" Nick whined, tilting his head towards Sam. "I didn't blab. This idiot did."

"I don't like your tone, man." Sam argued, mimicking Nick's state.

"One more drink and you'll blab. And please stop acting like kids." you sighed, walking towards the counter, stowing the beer bottles in their cases. Ypunlooked on your phone once again, called Marco and ordered three large pizza boxes — pepperoni, meat, and cheese pizza. All of Peter's favorites.

By the time the phone call ended, Bucky approached you with soft, doe-like eyes. The group resumed singing, Sam and Nick once again hogging the machine, clearly not taking your advice. Sam kept yelling at him to "cut the check!"

"How're you feeling, doll?" He asked, going under the pass through.

"Well, it's now a surprise party." You heaved a sigh, turning around to find a drink with much more of a kick to get you through the night. Your eyes found an unopened bottle of vodka in one of the cabinets. You didn't hesitate to grab it, along with a dry vermouth and some olives.

Bucky's eyes were on you the whole time, watching you making yourself a mean martini. Ypundidn't care if Steve saw you just now. Right now, you needed this. Just one glass to calm your nerves.

Younstirred the liquid with the olives in a stick before downing the whole thing in one gulp.

"As hot as that was," Bucky said, referring to how you drank the martini and how younmade it, "that's your last drink for the night. I'm not letting you get drunk for the wrong reasons. Once was enough."

You set down the glass on the counter with a thud. You lifted your hazel eyes to meet his blue ones. "You're paying for this, by the way."

He chuckled. "I know. I'll take care of it."

You looked cautiously at the door, dreading Peter. Knowing he won't probably be here for another hour, you approached Bucky, discreetly grabbing his hand. It took you a moment to put your thoughts into words.

"James, if we tell Peter, we need to be... sure. Of this. Of us." youbwatched your fingers brush against him on the wooden table.

"We've talked about this, y/n. I am." He reassured, walking closer this time. "It's a big risk but it's one I'm willing to take."

The idea of you jumping into this together, jumping into it with caution gave you a big relief. But right now, it wasn't just an idea anymore. It was real.

It was real in the way he snaked his arm around your waist, in the way he pulled you into a soft, deep kiss, and in the way his lips lingered on your lips. You pulled away, your bodies still close. At that moment, it was just the two of you. Never mind the loud karaoke machine, or the faint noises of the traffic outside, or Sam's out of tune rhythm.

It was just the two of you. In your own little afterglow.

"You're a big risk I'm willing to take." He whispered the words so slow that they swirled around you, pulling you even closer.

"And you're mine too." you smiled.

Several minutes have passed since your little conversation. Nat had teased you and Bucky of being whipped for each other. Of course Sam joined, and then Nick who chanted a little song he made, which, for the life of you, you couldn't even remember. The rest didn’t understand a word he was singing other than the words "Bucky" and "y/n."

Steve, on the other hand, had been silently drinking his beer and eating the whole time. You once gave him an are-you-okay look and he just nodded in response, giving you that classic tight-lipped smile of his.

Bucky was seated beside you, your thighs grazing each other in the little booth. Even accidental touches brought you comfort.

And isn't that just the best damn thing?

Peter had come in after the little performance Nick just gave, thankful that he didn't walk right in the middle of it. Behind him was a staff of Marco's who delivered the pizza boxes. Everyone hurrah'd. You grabbed your wallet from your back pocket but Steve stopped you, handing some bills to the guy.

"Steve, I could've gotten it." You said after the pizza guy left.

He shook his head, setting down his beer on the table. "It's your party, kid. I'm not letting you pay a single cent."

Nat scoffed. "She made herself a drink just earlier. You should charge her for that."

"Woah, y/n drank? That's new." Peter chimed in, squeezing himself in the booth, sitting at the edge. Between you were Sam and Nick. "What else did I miss?"

And so, you told him everything — well, not everything. Only from when Steve fired you (him lying about how why he even came up with it which Peter bought), to Bucky convincing you to take the project collaboration with Sam, to finally agreeing to it, to the whole meeting that happened just three days prior, and to how you’ll proceed from there. Youndidn't know if Nat and Steve wanted to reveal their little thing to Peter so you kept your mouth shut. Not wanting to do to them what you didn't want done to you and Bucky.

"My god," Peter commented, "that really was a long week! I'm quite disappointed I missed all of that!"

Oh, Parker. If only you knew the whole truth.

In return, he gave the gist of the whole corporate retreat. He finally told you where he and the rest of his team went but it was some place you couldn't even pronounce. Some cabin by the lake far away from Manhattan. He didn't bore you too much with the details. All you knew was that they went fishing, hiking and camping in the wild while team building. Along with the stories were photos of him and the place they were staying.

You frowned thinking it would've been fun if he were with friends. Like you guys.

The whole time, Bucky held your hand under the table or rubbed your thighs discreetly so as to not draw much attention.

Nat was an exception. That redhead saw everything, smirking once in a while. You gave her a discreet look from time to time.

Peter congratulated you, toasting his pizza with yours. Thankfully, he didn't need to drink tonight ("No drinks for me tonight or for the next few days").

"Wow, you really came out there like a new man!" you chuckled. He laughed right back but for just a mere moment. His expression changed while taking a bite of his pizza. You began to be nervous as to why this kept happening. Younneeded to go to the toilet.

Getting out of the booth was a chore. Nat, Steve and Bucky had to get up before you could even stand up. Youndidn't get why you didn't just stick the little tables together to make a long one.

You were in the toilet for a little while, leaking everything that youndrank tonight. Your head felt a bit dizzy but younmanaged to stand up afterwards. The voices of your friends were inaudible against the wooden walls. Except Nick's booming laugh.

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by Steve who was standing still, waiting for the toilet to become unoccupied.

"Sorry." you apologized. "Was I too long?"

"No." He replied shortly. You tried to walk past him but he caught your arm. Younlooked at his hand, confused. "Are you sure about this Bucky guy?"

"What?"

"This whole thing with Bucky. You can't actually be serious about this."

Taken aback, you wiggled out of his grasp, successfully yanking your arm out. "And who are you to tell me that?"

"You just met this guy." He answered. You still felt his grip on your arm by his stern tone.

"Weren't you the one who kicked me out of this very bar just for me to go to the roof to meet with this guy that I just met?"

"I thought you would've ended whatever thing you had going with him."

You scoffed. "You're not my father, Steve. I know you have this weird father or brother thing you have with me but I'm an adult. I can take care of my damn self."

"What about that night you were insanely drunk?"

"That... that was a one-time thing. A mistake is what it is!" younhissed. "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Y/n, listen — "

"No." you cut him off. "You listen. Just because you and Nat haven't figured out whatever the hell is going on with you two, doesn't mean you can shit on my relationship. Before you comment on my dating life, I suggest you fix yours first. I'm happy. Bucky's happy. We're both happy. Please mind your own business."

Before you could even go back to the group, Steve called your name. Youngroaned, turning around. "What now?"

He sighed. "You're really going at great lengths for Bucky. Keeping secrets from Parker and all that. Is it really worth it?"

You stood there. Silent. Trying to find your voice.

"Well, I'm about to find out." You replied, turning around, hopefully for the last time. "Later, Steve."

You went back to the group and continued to chat with them. Steve got back after a few moments. His streak of silence was broken when Nat revealed something none of you had ever known before.

"Did you guys know that Steve was a journalist before he became a bar owner?" Nat said, looking at Steve.

You raised your eyebrows, the pizza caught in mid-air. A curiosity sparke, pleased with the new information you had just acquired.

"Steve Rogers? A journalist?" Peter scoffed unbelievably, leaning back against the seat. "No way. No, I don't buy it."

"Me neither." Nick butted in. "He doesn't look like the type. Nuh-uh."

"It's true!" Nat argued. "Tell them, Steve. Come on!"

Steve forced a chuckle, avoiding all your waiting gazes. "Yeah, it's true. I was. I used to work for the New York magazine."

"Why'd you stop?" Bucky's voice surprised you. It was the first time you’ve actually heard him talk to Steve first, except that time when you first introduced them.

Steve's eyes met Bucky's. A strange atmosphere picked up. You couldn't quite point out why. "I was sticking my nose up where it didn't belong." He replied. "I got fired because of that. Boss said I was too... intuitive."

"Isn't that what journalists should be exactly?" You asked.

"Too much of something is bad too, I guess." He shrugged, retreating back his eyes.

"Huh." You said, observing Steve. Eyes stolid. Bearing no emotions at all. "Well, look who's good at keeping secrets. Steve Rogers."

He hummed. "We all got secrets."

And then Nick revealed a ridiculous secret ("I hate the bank! I don't have a bank account!") that lightened up the mood.

The night went on after that, Steve avoiding any questions you had about this past life of his. Nick had the most ridiculous questions followed by Peter. But the night had to end as well. Thankfully, it ended sober.

Leaving Steve, Nat and Nick behind, Bucky, you and Peter headed up the stairs, the elevator ride filled with deafening silence. One you very much loathed. Between Bucky and you was Peter. It was killing you not to touch Bucky.

Bucky left, merely dropping you off in your apartment. He told you he'd come by tomorrow morning to get his stuff that was still in Peter's room.

It killed you not being able to kiss Bucky good night, watching his back getting smaller and disappearing behind the elevator. Peter closed the door after that.

"Boy, I'm tired." You yawned, stretching your arms up. "I'm gonna go ahead. It's nice to have you back, Parker."

Before you could even go to your room and have a nice sleep, Peter called for your name. You lazily replied.

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you do it, y/n?"

Confused, you turned around, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"The project with Sam." He said, walking towards you. His footsteps were heavy in each step. As heavy as his voice was becoming. "Bucky convinced you. Why'd you say yes?"

Trepidation filled your body. A kind of weakness you loathed. But you tried hard to stand on your ground, masking your anxiousness.

The noises outside the apartment, out on the streets mirrored the voices in your head.

"It was a big business opportunity." you found your voice. "A collaboration. And I didn't have much choice knowing that I was going to get fired."

But it seemed like Peter chose not to listen. "For years, I have been trying to get you to work with me. Years, y/n. Years." He sighed in exasperation. His eyes were bloodshot, tears badly wanting to escape. "Why couldn't you have said yes to me?"

His last words were so strong and sharp like a knife piercing right through your flesh, leaving you to bleed out in the open. You opened your mouth to speak, to say something, to say that you were sorry but unfortunately, no words came out. Peter breathed, releasing his strong gaze. "Good night, y/n."

He left you standing there in the middle of the room, realizing now that it would be harder to tell him about you and Bucky. Once you finally had the energy to carry your weight towards your room, you treaded towards it slowly and opened the door, only to be met by a soft knock on your window.

You nearly jumped at the sight outside the window.

"Jesus, Bucky!" you hissed, immediately closing the door behind. You opened the window and let him inside, closing it afterwards. "How did you get there?"

He was panting, trying to catch his breath. "Fire escape."

"It's freezing cold outside." you scolded, grabbing him your blanket and wrapping it around his huge figure.

"I know." he replied. "Maybe you can warm me up." A cheeky smile started to play on his lips as he approached you.

You giggled. "Bucky, not now."

"I'm sorry, doll. I just couldn't leave without a good night kiss."

My heart melted at his words. You placed your hand on his jaw and pecked his lips. He pulled you in closer. You smiled in the kiss.

"Neither can I."

You kissed a little bit more, a bit more passion this time, the window framing you perfectly in the nighttime.

You pulled away, feeling a bit guilty about Peter in his room.

"We need to talk, James." You said, breaking what was a lovely atmosphere. You’ve already had two confrontations today. What was another one?

You sat on the bed and patted the space beside you. Bucky frowned, sitting beside you. "What's wrong?"

"Peter's kind of upset with me accepting your offer to work with Sam." you went straight to the point. "He's been trying to get me to work with him in his company he works at ever since he got the job but I've always declined. And now, I think he's mad or even jealous that I said yes to you. God, you should've seen him, Buck. His eyes were so wide, and red. I've never seen him like that. It didn't look like Peter at all."

It took him quite a while before he spoke. "Do you regret taking up the offer?"

"What, heavens no!" You answered. "Bucky, this has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. You're one of them too, of course." You said, seeing his doe-like eyes once more. "I'm just getting a bit more scared now. What if there is no right time for us to tell him? What then?"

He clasped your hands with his large ones, making you stop your trembling. You didn't even notice your hands shaking until now. "There will be a right time, y/n. Right now, we just have to keep this our little secret for a while until we can tell him."

"What happens when he doesn't approve of this?" You started to ramble on once more. "Of us? What happens then?"

"Sweetheart, you don't know what's going to happen but we'll make it work."

You didn't respond. You just kept staring at your joined hands.

"I promise." He added.

You finally nodded, releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Okay."

"Now, if it's okay with you." He moved a little bit closer, kissing your cheek. "I can spend the night here." Another on the other. "With you." then on your lips.

"Peter's in the other room." you whispered in the kiss, amazed at how the mood changed so quickly.

"That's why I'm gonna need you to be quiet, babydoll."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes story #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #tY 4 ALL D SUPPORT ILY ALL

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angeloroki · 3 years

Text

saturday night — i. midoriya

pro-hero!izuku midoriya x gn!reader (might have some indications for a fem reader)

warning ; alcohol consumption, suggestive content

it was late. and the fatigue mixed with the drinks you had accumulated with izuku made the evening all the more dangerous.

it had started out as a reunion dinner with former high school students. a simple evening to catch up on old times, and to escape for a few hours from the exhausting work and worries of life.

10:12 pm.

you were happy to see them again. or even to go out for the first time in many weeks. your new job at that big company was sucking up all your personal time and energy. so this outing with your childhood friends was just what you needed. a mixture of euphoria, laughter, and broken glass.

and then you could tell that you were not indifferent to the sidelong glances of the host of the party. you did not miss seeing his cheeks blush every time your hands brushed against each other to grab the bottle.

it was a game of cat and mouse that you had been playing since the beginning of the evening, and your friends had not failed to point it out.

“oi deku, are you going to make out with y/n in front of us or are you going to serve us this dessert?" yells bakugo.

“ i don't think it's necessary for you." said denki in a mocking voice.

"what do you mean you shithead ?! "

1:02 a.m.

there were about ten of you at the beginning, the excitement keeping you awake, while tenya's bedtime stories provoked laughter that you all missed.

but as the hours passed, the number of people leaving increased. only the most drunk stayed, namely you and midoriya.

2:32 a.m.

“i think i have to go izuku... otherwise i'll do things i might regret.” you say, staggering slightly.

two big, strong hands came to stop you from falling over head first. a goofy smile stretched your cheeks as you met your savior's gaze. two sparkling, starry eyes stared back at you. he was as drunk as you were, yet he managed to get you to sit on his couch. his hand rested gently on your arm for a little longer than necessary. a bitter taste filled your mouth as he finally pulled it away. what you wished was that he'd lowered it a little more.

"i-i don't think you should drive home, y/n.

"mmh, i was thinking of taking a taxi deku, im drunk not stupid.”

he raised his eyebrows before draping his muscular arm over the back of your seat on the couch. you still remember how he was in high school, so small and vulnerable. he had that innocent look that managed to charm all the girls and you first. but now? puberty had hit him hard. izuku had certainly grown to 6'2", and gained more than 50 kilos of muscle due to his job as a pro-hero, but there was also a much more serious expression stretching his features. his look was neat, classy.

"what makes you smile like that?" he said in a half-amused, half-serious voice.

you shook your head. you couldn't admit that you were drooling over his well-built body.

"i remember our nights in the dorms watching those conspiracies videos on YouTube. and you'd laugh at me if i told you i missed those days.”

"and you'd laugh at me too if i told you that i missed that time too.” he said gently.

it was at that very moment that you finally noticed that you were close. too close for two people who had been drinking all night. too close for two exes. too close for two people who seemed to still have feelings for each other.

you'd have to be blind to ignore the two eyes you were giving each other all night. those glances sometimes accompanied by smiles. but you knew it was wrong. you knew it was impossible for the two of you, impossible to go back to the good old days when you were just a couple in love and teenagers, still unaware of life's problems.

his hand, now caressing your cheek, jolted you out of your dreamy thoughts.

"stay here tonight.”

you didn't know if that was an order or more of an advice. but what you did know was that you wanted to listen to him terribly. it would have been easy to kick off your shoes and fall asleep in his arms. but even though you'd had many drinks, you were still sober enough to know what was right and wrong.

"you know i can't, izuku.”

the flu on your face intensified slightly. as if you were in danger of escaping at the slightest false move.

"you would laugh at me if i told you that i miss the time we were together. he said weakly, his voice pleading.

a dry laugh from you echoed through the room. he was an asshole to get your hopes up.

"that's the alcohol talking izuku, go to bed and let me call a cab." you huffed.

but he had only one gesture that required very little effort to make you stay. all he had to do was to put his lips to yours, and you would be his all night.

and that's what he did. he kissed you as if it was the end of the world, his arms wrapped around your waist. the young man wanted to feel your body against his, to feel your warmth, to taste you in your entirety. his desires for you, which he had been struggling with all evening, were satisfied thanks to this single kiss.

that quarter of a second seemed to last for ages. but every idyllic dream is always brutally torn apart by reality.

that reality in the story of the two of you was the engine of the car that had just parked in front of izuku's house. it was that reality that kept you from jumping on your ex's neck. that reality was ochako uraraka.

the young brunette entered the house with an exhausted smile on her lips. her eyes shone when she noticed you. you were a good meter away from her boyfriend, looking ashamed. but ochako was too tired to understand the situation.

"i'm glad to see you, i'm sorry i didn't make it to dinner. but work obliges haha.

you avoided his gaze, while picking up your things in a hurry.

"it's okay, we can always do this again some other time.

"i can give you a lift if you want, you look pretty drunk." she said worried.

"it's okay baby, she'll call a cab, right? "

izuku looked at you indifferently. his eyes, which were filled with desire for you a few minutes ago, were replaced by disinterested eyes. a new cold character was standing in front of you.

" thank you ochako. but he is right, i will call a cab... “

uraraka nodded and went to her boyfriend's arms. you saw from the corner of your eye that he only needed a glance to warn you to do something. the shadow of a smirk disfigured your expression.

you were naive to get your hopes up like that. izuku since your youth was known to be a heartbreaker. although you were his childhood friend, you were no different from his exes. even though izuku was a good person as a hero and friend, he was still a man who liked to feed on the love people had for him. he didn't have to hesitate to torment you all evening.

so i guess you didn't have to feel bad about leaving traces of your lipstick on his shirt collar.

"good night guys.” you say a smirk on your face.

tagging ; @escapenightmare @candy-hime

#bnha x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha angst #izuku x y/n #izuku angst #izuku x you #izuku midoriya imagine #izuku midoriya x you #a reposter ‼️‼️✨

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter three)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse (god sorry), jimmy bein’ a simp :)

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: new oc alert!! this character was based off a little friend of mine... who’s helped me like. immensely. babe ily. also god this one hurt to write i'm sorry guys. hope you enjoy :)

chapters: 1 | 2

masterlist

playlist

------

The waning light of the late afternoon sun filters in through the grand windows, stained glass painting the room a myriad of colours. Polished maple shelves line the walls, packed to the brim with dusty tomes. Comfortable armchairs sit around a side table, the gilded siding gleaming. On its surface sits a dainty teacup, still steaming.

Florence strides through the aisles of the library, trailing a finger along the worn spines. The lady of the house divides her time most often between the beautiful music room and the library, as Allen leaves her to her devices, most of the day. Running a city, he always says, takes a lot of work, dear. She’s not complaining at all, if it puts her at a difference from the barbarian she is lucky enough to call a husband.

Stopping, finally, she pulls a book from the shelf, running her fingers across the letters decorating the cover, fingers catching lightly on the grooves. ‘Wuthering Heights’, the cover reads, and Florence nods, content with her choice. Drifting across the room, she settles comfortably into the plush chairs, reaching a hand out to grasp the handle of the teacup beside her. Soft spice settles over her tongue, and her chest fills with warmth, the steaming beverage warding away the slight chill in the room. Cracking open the cover, her eyes drift over the slightly yellowed pages of the novel.

“I have just returned from a visit to my landlord—the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society…”

The woman recites the words on the page, voice drifting high into the rafters as it flutters past her lips. Florence has always enjoyed reading aloud, as it made her feel as though she was not alone. That someone hears her, and cares to listen to the words that flow from her mouth. Allen hated it, in the beginning. When he had given her the time of day, and cared for her. Promises of forever tumbled from his lips then, instead of the insults and hurt that dripped, like a slow poison, from them now.

Shaking her head clear of those thoughts, she continues. An hour passes, then another, and Florence loses herself in the narrative. These characters, brutal and flawed, intrigued her. They enchanted her, and she was unable to put it down.

Until a set of heavy footsteps, thunderous against the polished floors, near the door to the library. She knows exactly who it is, spending as much time as she had training herself to recognize his gait. Shutting her novel with a loud snap, she looks around the room. Everything is in its place; the room is pristine, as always. Smoothing down her dress, a bright yellow with lace at the hem, she waits for the inevitable. The click of the door opening rings through the suffocating silence of the room, and Allen strolls in, perfect image maintained by his coiffed hair and expensive pinstripe suit.

“Florence, my dear. I knew I might find you here.”

“Allen, is there something wrong?” Florence replies, the hands that rest on her lap subtly trembling as she gazes at her husband. He seems to be in a good mood today. Florence only hopes it can stay that way.

“We will be putting on a ball in the coming weeks, to celebrate my proficiency as mayor. Now,” Allen slips closer to his wife, and brings a hand to her chin. Holding her in place, he presses closer, looking directly into her hazel eyes. “I hope I won’t need to reiterate this. Please do try and behave.”

“O-of course, Allen, I will—”

“We wouldn’t want a repeat performance of recent festivities, would we?”

His words make Florence’s blood boil. She sees the world in shades of angry red, and clenches her fists as tight as she can, hiding them from Allen’s view. Her knuckles are painted white with the strain of keeping her composure. A few weeks have passed since Allen rained pain and devastation upon his household, but the wounds both mental and physical are not so easily hidden, swept aside.

Pasting on an agreeable smile, cheeks straining with the effort, she nods her head. Florence knows that if she plays by his rules, she’ll remain unharmed. He’ll finally leave her alone.

“I will be on my best behaviour. Please, do not worry, dear.”

Allen tilts her head up further, to stare right into her eyes. Florence would love nothing more than to deal him the pain that he had dealt to her. To John, and to James. Instead, she raises her hand, laying it across Allen’s, as she gazes earnestly back. Touching him feels horrifyingly wrong, and it's as though fire laps at her palm.

“You will need a gown, no doubt.”

“I was planning to go into town with Ms. Weston. You remember, she—”

“I do not care who accompanies you. I care, darling, that you do not embarrass me,” The man smiles at her, sharp canines glinting dangerously in the fading sunlight, and he presses his lips to her cheek. His scent, sharp and cloying, nauseates her. Allen stands up to his full height, which, admittedly, was not much, and moves for the door. Turning back to look at her once more, he takes her in almost hungrily. “I wonder, Florence, if you still look as lovely unclothed as you do in this dress. Perhaps tonight, we may find out?”

With a sneer and a chuckle, he walks out the door, closing it behind him.

Florence’s hands unclench, finally, as subtle pain rips through her palms. Gazing down at the skin of her hand, she sees deep pink crescents. One of them is streaked lightly with blood. She had broken the skin, it seems.

Trembling hands retrieve the book from the table it had been left on, and Florence opens the cover once more. Eyes drifting down to read, she can’t seem to make sense of the words, anymore. Florence is shaken, and she knows that it is precisely what Allen wants.

It is but a game for him; a battle of control. He’s winning.

---------

“You mean to tell me that he… Oh, Florence…”

The chime of nails against delicate china rings through the luxuriously decorated sitting room, as Florence passes a teacup, the steam wafting from the top following the scent of rich spices, to the woman sitting on the plush divan. Her dress, a pastel lavender, meets the floor in a stream of tulle. Dark tresses, pulled back in a small, loose braid, curl as they fall across her shoulders.

“Emma, I have no idea what to do.”

Emma Weston had known Florence longer than she could remember. They had met when they were young, and since then, they’ve been almost inseparable. That is, until Allen came along. Slowly, almost inch by inch, he had pushed Emma out of the picture, further isolating his wife. The women seemed to meet less and less over the years, now coming together a few times a month. Emma was unmarried, and rather educated, which almost seemed to scare the man. A favourite quote of his pops into Florence’s head, then: “Educated women, well, they’ll bring the downfall of humanity.” To the women, of course, it served as a nice bit of comedy.

“My dear friend, I… Is there anything I can do?” Emma lays a hand on Florence’s shoulder, earnest eyes locked on those of her friend. Florence meets her gaze then, and the glassy hazel eyes unnerve the woman. They look defeated. “Florence, we will fix this, somehow.”

“If that is possible…”

Emma shakes her head, eyes blazing with a incendiary anger she must keep hidden from the woman sitting next to her. Florence, naive as she might have been upon entering the relationship, has done nothing to warrant this treatment, this violence. Every mention of the horrors; the atrocities, that have been committed in this house makes the woman’s blood burn in her veins. Emma settles her hand over Florence’s, rubbing calming circles into it. She knows how the other woman ticks, after the years they’ve spent together, and she can see the slight tremors that pass through her. She’s scared. Why wouldn't she be, with a husband like that, Emma thinks.

“Florence,” The sentence almost tumbles out, but she catches herself. Florence has always disliked pity, felt that it was counterproductive and useless. It does nothing to help the situation, so there is no need for it. Emma changes the subject swiftly, a bright smile tilting up the corner of her painted lips. “What else have I missed? Surely you’ve gotten up to much, with your lovely husband gone so often.”

A moment of unusual silence passes, as a blush darkens Florence’s cheeks, pink shades dancing with the freckles that linger on her skin. “Well,” Florence starts, hands fidgeting in her lap as she looks anywhere but at her friend. With a fortifying sigh, she releases the words trapped in her throat. “I’ve… I’ve been writing to a man. An actor, from the theatre we frequent.”

��Oh? How long have the two of you been corresponding? Do tell me more!”

“A month, as of next weekend—”

“A month? Florence, it’s been a whole month, and you didn’t think it right to tell me? I thought we were friends… ”

“Emma,” Florence starts, scrambling to reassure her friend, until she glimpses the smirk that dangles from her lips. A relieved sigh fills the silence that had fallen over the two, and Emma’s giggle lights up the room. “You were joking…”

“Of course I was! Now, tell me more about this mysterious actor. What do you know of him?”

“Well, I do not know his name, unfortunately. This… this is my fault. If he knew who I was; if he knew Allen, he would never give me the time of day. Emma, he is beautiful, of mind, body, and soul.”

“How do you mean?”

“It was his appearance, initially, that attracted me. He was simply irresistible,” Florence’s cheeks flush deep scarlet, as an unconscious smile blossoms across her cheeks. Her hands slash through the air as she recounts her first sighting of the elusive actor. “…James and John, thankfully, had the mind to encourage me to contact him. Emma, he is poetic and charming, yet he isn't haughty in the slightest, like some who share these traits. He’s always been perfectly kind, and charisma drips from every pore. Every letter I receive from him… Goodness, Emma, it has the same effect on me that his performance had.”

“Perhaps you should invite him to the ball.”

It was a simple statement, yet those 8 words ring like sirens in Florence’s head. Her blush deepens, and she stammers out a response, nervous hands smoothing down nonexistent wrinkles on her gown. With a deep breath, she recovers, and locks eyes with Emma, who hides a smile behind a dainty hand.

“Have you gone completely mad?”

“Think about it,” Emma starts, revealing the amused smile that she had tried to hide. Taking in the way Florence’s mouth hangs open in shock, her eyes wider than saucers, Emma continues, a giggle fluttering in the air of the expensive room. “You could slip away from the other patrons, somewhere Allen would never find you, and meet the man that stole your heart.”

Florence remains frozen, as though she were a component of a still-life painting. Her blush-pink lips form an O, and her eyebrows creep close to her hairline. Her hands, the only thing in motion, are a flurry of movement as she fidgets under Emma’s watchful gaze.

“Florence, honestly, is it truly that preposterous of an idea?”

“O-of course it is! Emma,” The woman of the house shakes her head emphatically, mind racing to come up with the perfect excuse as to why this idea, although tempting, was utterly absurd. “Look, if Allen ever… I could never subject this… this angel to that.”

“If you think it’s best not to, then I will stand with you. This is, of course, common knowledge. What I will never do, however, is sit idly by and watch you throw away your happiness, again.”

Silence sits heavy over the two women, the only sound being the light slurping of tea gone cold. Emma, chancing a glance over at her long-time friend, takes in the quiver and shake of her hand. Florence sets the fragile china cup, painted a pale sky blue, on the wooden surface of the table that rests in front of them, and relaxes back into the comfortable settee.

“Is… Is James able to attend? The ball, I mean.” The relative quiet is broken by Emma, voice faltering as she curls into herself. For as long as Florence could remember, Emma has only had eyes for James. Whenever she came to the manor, her eyes would roam the chiseled marble hallways for even a short glimpse of him, and a deep blush seemed to dust her cheeks whenever he was in the room.

“I believe he and John are working that particular night, although… perhaps you could steal him away for some time alone?”

“Florence!”

The peals of laughter that fill the room muffle the hurried footsteps fast approaching, a choked gasp and the sound of falling papers finally making the two women look up. James stands by the door, shoulders hunched as he locks eyes with Emma across the room. A collection of envelopes litter the floor, and James, scrambling to his knees with a squeak, rushes to retrieve them.

A wordless glance passes between the two friends, and Florence nods, a subtle smile lighting up her face. Emma stands, flattening down her dress with clammy hands, walks up to the man, and he looks up at her under his eyelashes, hands stilled by her appearance.

“E-Emma! H-hello, I…”

“James, your face… are you alright?”

The man nods emphatically, almost thrumming with nerves as he replies, “it was nothing, Emma. You need not worry for me.”

Her hand, palm up, rests upon his cheek as she takes in the bruising, subtle now after the days that have passed, that mottles his pale skin. Florence can almost hear the rapid beating of his heart as he gazes up at her from his position on the floor.

“I can't help my worry for you, James,” Clearing her throat awkwardly, Emma shifts her gaze to the tiled floor, her eyes widening when she glances at the stationary strewn across the ground.“May I… or rather… Do you need help?”

The servant gulps audibly, and nods, cheeks an angry scarlet to compliment the fading tones of purple. The woman kneels next to him, and retrieves the fallen letters. Glancing at it briefly, her eyes light up excitedly, as she gazes at James.

“Are these invitations for the ball?”

“They are. I was to go around the town handing them out, just now.”

Two hands brush as they reach for the last envelope, and pull back, as if electricity had struck them upon contact. Florence hides a beaming smile beneath her hand as she watches her friends. They simply cannot look away from each other. James coughs, breaking the tension that had settled over the two, and they scramble back, each holding a portion of the letters. Two piles become one, and Emma steps back, the hand rubbing at her arm betraying the picture of calm she was trying to emulate.

“M-Miss Weston, always a pleasure. How are you?”

“I-I am well, James. And you?”

“Very well. May I say, you look… lovely.” The conversation peters out as their gazes flit to the ground, and Florence, from her perch behind them, can’t help but giggle. The sound propels the servant into action, and he thrusts an envelope into Emma’s hand, backing away as if he was burned by the feel of her hand on his.

“I was supposed to stop at your residence, but since you are already here…”

With that, he turns tail and rushes out of the room, leaving Emma standing, slack-jawed. Slowly, she turns around to meet Florence’s eyes, and the disbelief present on her face is almost comical.

“Perhaps you will be the one to slip away for a moonlit dance in the end, Emma.”

With well wishes, and an earnest promise to find dresses for the ball, Emma departs, stepping into her own carriage. The flush on her cheeks was still visible.

---------

“Of all the times to run out… Just my luck.”

Soft footsteps spatter like rain across the staircase, as Florence mutters to herself. Dashing into her bedroom, she searches every nook and cranny, pulling back with a grunt dripping with frustration. The supply that had sat on the desk against the wall was usurped, and there were no traces of any sheets in the rest of the mansion’s many rooms. Except for one.

Rushing across the hall, Florence stops in front of a pinewood door, intricately carved as most things within the manor happen to be.

Allen’s study, as she’s been told time and time again, was never to be entered, by anyone except the man himself. It’s rarely ever locked, though his intimidation serves as enough of a barrier from entering, until today.

All she needs is paper, after all. About to pen yet another letter to her nameless angel, she lacked the most important element: the paper itself. Where better to find a much-needed slip, than in a study, Florence thinks as she turns the gold-gilded knob. She opens the door only to be greeted with beautiful, wide windows of stained glass, which turn the sunlight into vibrant shades of red and green. Against the wall, a bookshelf stands tall, books of every genre imaginable lining it. Against the far wall, a well-polished mahogany desk, complete with winding embellishments around the edge, sits before an elegant leather armchair.

No paper in sight, of course.

A sigh reverberates off of the maroon walls, as Florence pulls open a drawer, careful to leave things as proper as possible so as to not alert Allen. Shuffling through the first, she finds a variety of legal forms and journals, and her frustration simmers inside of her. Moving on to the second drawer, she tugs on the wood-furnished handle, and her heart shatters.

Sitting prim and proper, face up in the drawer, was a letter addressed to Allen. In a curling script that, distinctly, was not hers, reads: “To my beloved, Allen.” This one note, this blasted letter, lays on a bed of dozens of others, all addressed in the same way, in the same sprawling hand. Florence can feel streams of crystalline tears trickle down the flaming apple of her cheeks, and a violent scream catches in her throat. Her insides burn in rage, in fury, in betrayal, and if not for her grip on the desk, she would have crumpled to the floor. There were no dates printed upon the envelopes, though, judging by the sheer amount, it is safe to say that this had been going on for quite a while. Long before she had laid eyes upon her actor.

Under the pile of deceitful notes, almost mocking her, sat the coveted paper. Ripping it out of the drawer, Florence turns, eyes sweeping the room for anything out of the ordinary. Seeing perfection, she tears out of the room, crossing the hall into her chambers. She sits herself down, defeated, on the chair adjacent to the small desk. Her head falls forward into her palms, resting there until, suddenly, she slams a hand down onto the lacquered tabletop.

Allen Bennett has stolen her livelihood. He has stolen her happiness; stolen everything that he saw worth taking. Greed seeps from every pore, and there are no consequences. Allen Bennett is a foul, demonic man, and Florence must play the role of the angel. The perfect wife. She must act as Allen’s toy, only of use to him when he needs a night of pleasure.

Curling her hands into rigid fists, the woman nods resolutely, and lunges across the desk. Trusty fountain pen in a clenched hand, Florence seizes the newfound sheets, and soon enough, a river of ink flows across the page. Teardrops that trickle down the slope of her nose serve as the signature.

------

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#robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfic #robert plant x oc #led zeppelin fanfic #robert plant fanfiction #classic rock fanfic

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 3: Fall from Grace

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 3,639

Warnings: smut, kidnapping, stalking, slight bondage. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: chapter three is here!! they are finally going to start their festive, but steve is gentle enough to at least take things slow. things will grow more extreme in future chapters and i hope you’re ready for that. for now, let’s just enjoy, (lowkey) altruistic steve, yeah? enjoy! please leave a like and comment.

The next morning, you were woken up by a gentle caress on your hair, with a pair of striking blue eyes greeting you. Not that you had any clue whether it was actually morning. It could've been 3 PM in the afternoon for all you know, but the man before you; Steve Rogers, as he declared his name last night, confirmed it by rolling the words on his lips; "good morning."

You tried to sit up, but you remember that you were still bound in place since last night. He sat by the side of the bed, and he asked; "did you sleep well last night?" You didn't know how to answer that, so you nodded aversely. He smiled, not the menacing smirk that he displayed several times last night, but a suave one, like he was gratified by your sated rejoinder.

"I brought breakfast. You must be starving." You turned your head to your right side and a saw a small table standing next to you, containing a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon, the smell was so mouthwatering that your stomach grumbled at the absence.

You whined and pulled your hands scantily, hoping that it was enough to send him the message. "Oh shit, sorry." He made light of the situation and he moved slightly forward to uncuff you. You sat up and tried to take off the gag but he abruptly blocked your hands from proceeding any further.

"Let me do it." It was supposed to sound thoughtful as if he was lending a helping hand, but the glare in his eyes expunged the sentiment away for what he acutely implied was; "you don't get to make that decision of your own, little girl."

So you let loose your hands and yield into him to perform the task instead. You never cherished your freedom more than at that moment. You instantly contorted your body and grabbed the plate. You ate like you were a famished vagrant. You moaned at how succulent the meal is.

You ate in silence and he just sat there as he watched you gobbled up your food. The sound of the room was only generated from the clinking sounds of the metal fork hitting the silver platter.

When you were repleted, you put down down the dish and you drank the glass of warm vanilla milk on the tray. You gulped half of the glass and put it back on the tray. You didn't realize the remaining splotch of the milk had stained your upper lip milky white.

Steve cleaned it with the stroke of his thumb tenderly and he wiped it on his jeans. He didn't waste any second longer as he spoke up; "today, we are going to start our training. We'll go over the rules and learn the basics. We will see how much we can wrap today, and then we'll carry on tomorrow."

He got on his feet and picked up the tray from the small table, and he continued, "while I prep, you can take a shower."

Take a shower? Does this mean he was going to take you upstairs and let you use his bathroom? That's a good start, maybe, you might find a way to escape through the window or scream for help.

But your vision was cut short by his next instructions. He pointed at the direction of the staircase, but not specifically at it, but rather towards something underneath it; "you see that door over there? It's the bathroom. You can shower there."

You hadn't noticed that door before until it was pointed out. You had only been here for, you assumed, less than 24 hours, there were a lot of things you had yet to discover. After all, your first night here was restricted; you were bound on all fours and the dimmed bulb on the ceiling could only provide so much.

"I'll give you an hour to be ready for me. I expect you to be all cleaned and fragrant when I come back." He leaned down to your level and spoke composedly. "When I'm back, I want you on your knees, with your hands placed neatly on your thighs and your chin down to the ground, understood?"

You nodded. Ever since you got here, it seems like you had lost your ability to form a sentence, you could mumble a few primary words, but you still felt so caged inside despite not being restrained any longer.

"Words, sweet girl. I want you to use your words."

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows and made a questioning look, you didn't seem to get to hint, so he proceeded; "yes what?"

Your brain quickly recalls last night's events, where he told you that you may call him sir at "certain times" and you immediately knew that this was the moment he implied.

"Yes... Sir." With that, you earned a murderous smirk on his face as if he was amused by the way the sound of the epithet rolled off your lips.

"Good girl. I'll see you later." He left a kiss on your forehead and fled; passing the staircase, off he go.

You folded your knees and tucked them under your chin. What kind of rules was he planning to go over with you? Is he ever going to let you go? And most importantly, are you truly safe with him?

Steve took off from the basement and locked the door behind him. He was amused by how obedient y/n had been so far, he quickly learnt how naive and innocent you were. He was going to have it easy when it comes to molding you into his favorite possession. The girl he had fantasized about for months; you were nearly there. You just needed a little more disciplinaries.

He calculated in head that in a few weeks, you were going to be innately capable of performing his orders. If he wanted you on all fours, with your head pressed down on the mattress and your hands tied tidily on your back, as he pounds vigorously into you, then you were going to do so, with only a single cue.

Yeah, he'll get you there. He just needed patience and perseverance.

He stripped himself off his navy blue plaid shirt and his worn-out jeans. He also pulled down his boxer and put them into the dirty laundry basket as his lengthy cock sprung free. It wobbled as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the lights; the rustic interior came into view. There was a single, broad rectangular mirror on his right side, over the Pecan brown ceramic sink. The tile that topped the cabinet sink resembled the colour of its owner's hair; deep brunette brown.

On the left side, there was a single wooden framed window that was shut due to the windy weather that caused the fallen leaves of the trees to enter his cabin uninvited.

He diverted the shower curtains and climbed into the giant bathtub. He swiveled the shower faucet and let the warm water wash over him. His thoughts migrated to his discoveries last night. He had stolen her phone and her other personal things and stash them in the top racks of his closet.

While she was unconscious, she pressed her button onto the fingerprint passlock, and the screen lit up, displaying all of the menu icons. He looked through all of her social media one by one; her text messages, her Instagram, Facebook, emails, Youtube history, Google history, Google Play Books, and even her Amazon search list. He thoroughly scrolled through every app on her phone he could find, to dig deeper into her personal background.

From what he discovered, he hadn't learned much except; she was a nerd, the number of books she had yet to finish explained that much. Her history search revealed nothing much more than juvenile information, and the most recent ones were camping related info. She was on social media, but she didn't seem to have that many interactions cramming up her notifications. Her emails and text messages mostly consisted of professional matters with her, what he assumed, were her co-workers.

He also read several unanswered texts, saying sentimental things, such as; "I'm truly sorry for your loss." "I'll be here if you need me, call me soon!" "Do you need a friend? I can come over anytime! :)" "She was such a wonderful human being, she's in a better place now." "Stay strong, okay? Thinking about you here."

That made him curious. Why didn't she answer these well-intend messages? Who was this "wonderful human being" her acquaintance talked about? He didn't dwell on those futile questions for too long, he could ask her about it later, but now, he just wanted to learn more about his girl.

He clicked on the gallery icon and there was only a single file. He unfolded it, and the file revealed pictures that she took from the woods; the river, the trees, the scenery, etc. Then as he scrolled down further, pictures of an older woman surfaced. The older woman slightly resembled her. They both have the same eyes and that warm demeanor. Some pictures showed she was in a hospital bed, clad in a hospital gown. She looked pale and frail. He put the math together and concluded that this might be her mother, and that she was ill.

But her peer or whoever the hell that was, texted that she was in a better place now? Does that mean she was deceased? Is that why she came here all alone? To get away from her thoughts?

He'll learn the answers tomorrow, when she's awake, and when she's willing to talk.

After about an hour browsing through her phone, he decided that he had found enough. He decided to delete all her social media accounts and discarded her SIM card and the battery. Then he turned off the device and stash it back to where all her personal belongings were stored.

After he showered under the warm water and cleaned himself enough, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the bathtub. He dried off his damp hair as he stared into the mirror, acknowledging his God-like, well-defined figure. His chiseled abs and bulky chest that could bring anyone in his way to their knees. He trimmed his unkempt beard just enough to keep it presentable. He brushed his hair until he was satisfied with how dashing he looks.

He stepped out into his room and searched through his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and put it on. He didn't even bother putting on a boxer or briefs, for he knew it would go futile anyway. Nor did he bother putting on a shirt. So he walked into his basement, where his girl was kept; shirtless, and eager.

Let the games begin...

The warm water washing over you felt pleasant on your skin. You took your time in cleaning yourself up, as your minds keep drifting to the last 24 hours. Still, the remaining questions in your head were; where the hell were you? who the hell was this man? what the hell did he want from you?

You squeezed the bottle of the shampoo onto your hand and you messaged your scalp smoothly despite your restless thoughts. You had walked into the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier, and saw how complete the bathroom was.

It wasn't much, there was a single toilet and a roll of tissue glued around a wall-mounted tissue holder beside it. You also found many feminine toiletries such as; coconut shampoo, lavender body wash, vanilla-scented lotion, deodorant, toothbrush & toothpaste, razor, blades, shaving lubricant, soap bar, and nail clippers.

In the tiny cabinet sink, there were a few white towels and washcloths. Inside the drawer, there were a few tampons and pads. You truly felt like you were a special guest at a fancy hotel. The cramped bathroom was even a lot neater compared to your own in your apartment.

It makes you wonder... Did he plan all of this? If he did, how long had he been planning for this? Your own questions rose the shivers down your spine. You decided to shake it all away and stepped into the tight space behind the curtains.

You turned on the faucet and let the warm water stream over your skin.

After you were finished, you wrapped one of the towels in the cabinet, around your body. You used it to dry off your face and your hair, then you walked out to the room. You were glad that he hadn't come back yet, so it gave you enough time to get ready.

How... exactly were you going to get ready? You just realized he didn't provide you any clothes or undergarments. So you sat in your bed, still clothed in the towel until you were ready to follow his instructions.

You weren't ready to find out what he meant by "there will be punishments" as he casually stated last night, so you dropped the towel off your body and hung it on the hook behind the bathroom door.

You heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps and you sprinted to the center of the room and knelt. You placed your hands neatly on your thighs as he instructed with your head down, not wanting to stare at his face. Despite it was part of his orders, you were also fearful of gazing into this man's eyes.

The sound of the door opening reverberated through the room, and your hands shook despite being perfectly still on your thighs. Your lips trembled at the mighty presence making a grand entrance. The sound of the approaching footsteps grew harsher and in seconds, a pair of black mudded boots covered feet came into view.

"You listened to my orders well... Good. We are off to a good start. Alright, let's begin our lesson today. You can look up now."

You lifted your head to look at his face, and you trembled. Seeing this man from down here hit you differently. He was majestic in every possible way. You didn't know whether that made you feel safer or even more terrified. He was leaning on a small table pressed to the wall behind him, his hands holding his bodybuilder figure.

"First, I want you to address me as sir when we are engaged in sexual intercourse. You have learned my name but it doesn't mean you can call me by my first name whenever you like."

"Second, I don't wanna hear you talk unless I address you first. If you absolutely need to, you may raise your hand to let me know. The only thing that I wanna hear from that mouth is your compliance, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Third," his eyes darkened. There wasn't a hint of emotions on his face, nothing but stone-cold, hard-rock sobriety. Like a supreme commander, commanding his subordinates. "I expect you to submit to me, fully. Your body and your mind belong to me now. I am in control of the way it works and I am free to choose whatever I want to do to you. No refusal, no recalcitrance, no inquiry. Trust me, the less you resist, the easier this will be."

You were stiffened in place, cemented on spot. He demanded complete submission; a person you had never come across before, the pieces of equipment that were foreign to you, a territory you never had the slightest bit of idea existed... You were forced to yield and accommodate yourself into it. You bit the insides of your cheek to forestall the tears. He already had you impotent, like a wounded animal succumbing to its injuries. Resistance would be vain now. So you let him take the wheel. Even if it means, your temple would be driven by him.

Maybe... Just maybe, after you've pleased him enough by letting him get a grip of you, he might let his guard down and you might even find a way to escape.

But not now, you must work to earn his trust first. You just needed to brace yourself and have self-control. This man promised you that he wasn't going to hurt you, after all, maybe in exchange for a few sexual favors, you might obtain your freedom.

So you entertained him, by saying his two favorite words. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Now, get on the bed and lay on all fours, like you did last night."

You got on your feet and walked slowly to the mattress. It wasn't a comfortable one. It only had one pillow and not a duvet. It made you miss your own bed dearly.

You laid on the bed, seeking the most comfortable position, despite nothing that would actually make that much difference. You were still placed in the center of the bed, with your head on the pillow.

Steve followed you behind, and he restrained you again to the corners of the bed. He got on top of you, caging your hips with his knees.

"Today, I'm going to teach you how it feels to cum. Fall apart as you give into pleasure... You're never going to be the same once I'm done with you."

He started with nipping the sensitive spot of your neck, followed by the soft caress of his fingers, slowly moving down to your lip, circling around the bud, as he began to collect the wetness there. He moved his head down to your breasts, as he sucked your left nipple with his lips. The feeling overwhelmed you, you had never done this with any man before.

To say you were inexperienced would be an understatement. You had never dated anyone, let alone sleep with one. Your thoughts were jumbled with the sensation, you wanted to push him away, but you were bound in spot, your brain is telling you to tell him to stop, but you couldn't.

His mouth is taking its sweet time, moistening your nipple, as the finger on your bud didn't stop, but rather going faster, rubbing you up and down, that elicited a faint moan from you. What is he doing? What is this feeling? You didn't know. But you let yourself get lost in the moment. Thrilled to let him enlighten you.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and he continued his wrongdoing, by moving down to your most sensitive area. He stared at your sweet cunt and unhesitantly dipped his tongue into it. The lewd noises he was making with his mouth was making your head spin; you tried to block him out by sealing your thighs but he hindered you by wrapping his large hands around your thighs so tightly, you thought it might leave a red mark of fingers afterward.

His right-hand retreated to your breasts, to pinch the right nipple that was left ignored earlier. He groped you so fiercely that you shrieked from the pain. You shifted your head to the side to hide your pleasure, not noticing that his fingers had released your nipple to shove them inside you.

You threw your head back from the sudden intrusion. Your body felt electrified. The sensation was extraordinary. Him pleasuring you with his tongue was one thing, but his fingers stroking the sensitive spot inside you made you forget the dreary situation you were currently trapped in.

You lifted your head to look down at him, trying to figure out what was happening; you could see him engorging you with his eyes shut, as two of his fingers were scissoring inside of you. Your head was misty, and before you know it, your climax had washed over you. The sudden eruption of euphoria shocked you, as you give in to the bliss. You trembled from the unprecedented explosion your body made, as you panted harshly, ceasing you from moving.

Steve was exultant by his work, how he knew he had successfully taken the first step of breaking down your wall. How he managed to inoculate your brain with pleasure. His mouth and fingers had triumphantly turned you into an incoherent, cum-drunk mess, that you didn't even try to fight or resist him. It would be so much easier to mold you to a more advanced doll now.

He reached to your eye level and caged your head once more with his hands, as he alerted you from your post-cum bliss; "when was the last time you ever came that hard?"

You opened your mouth, with still uneven breathing, and answered; "I- I never..."

He squinted his eyes at you with a puzzled look. "You never what?"

You shuddered, cautious to not provoke him; “I never... Never done that before.”

You were comfortable with being inexperienced, until now. Until this dangerous man, who had just violated you began to interrogate your personal life; what if your celibacy incensed him because you weren't exactly what he was looking for? What he instead of releasing you, he decided to murder you and bury your body in his backyard?

He sat back, between your spread, cum-drenched thighs, and incredulously asked; "you are a virgin?"

You nodded dubiously. You broke off the gaze on his eyes, to look at the rustic wall shielding you from the world. Then his hand grabbed your chin to your move head back so that you were looking at him again; "hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. You are here so I could train you. We've got all the time in the world."

You didn't know how you should react to that; should you smile because of the fact that he wasn't going to murder you? Or should that frighten you instead because that means, one way or another, he was going to corrupt your innocence, and there's nothing you can do about it...

225 notes · View notes

greekgeek21 · 3 years

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Percy Jackson & The Avengers: Convergence - hurricane percy hits vegas

EEE! I'm so excited for this chapter, and idk why. We get some Poseidon content tho, so yay for that! I'm pretty sure I'm just so excited cuz I just finished writing ch. 12 and IT. IS. AMAZING!!

Ok, so if you've noticed the change in my profile pic, you can figure out what I'm about to do. Well...surprise! Another pjo stan is coming out! I'm pan🏳️‍🌈✨

Anyway, remember to comment, like, follow me, and reblog! Stay safe and happy reading!

- your author

Ω ♆ Ω

Okay, so maybe jumping out of the window before Blackjack was within a hundred feet was a bad idea, but can you really blame him? If Percy had stayed, the others would have tried to convince him to wait and make a plan before leaving to save Annabeth, and it probably would've worked! But doing that gave her captors more time to hurt her. That was not okay with him.

Fortunately, his amazing pegasus could fly really fast when put in the right situation. Say, one like Percy freefalling from a skyscraper? He still cut it close, though. Percy got within six feet of the ground before Blackjack swooped up under him. It hurt like hades.

"What am I here for, boss? Not that I don't enjoy our hang-out sessions, but still, why am I here?" Percy heard Blackjack ask in his head.

"We're going to Vegas to save Annabeth. She's been taken by the people we've been hunting," he answered.

"Oh, no! I'll go into overdrive for this trip! Annabeth gives me donuts!"

If one looked closely, they would see that Percy cracked a small smile at that. Blackjack always knew how to lighten the mood.

"Just hurry, bud. They sent pictures of her tied up and beaten. I'm not sure what condition she'll be in when we get to her," Percy said.

"That's it! These guys are dead meat!" Blackjack sped up even more.

Percy was really afraid to look down because he was pretty sure that they had already passed four state lines, and his friend showed no signs of letting up. With all the complaining about being tired Blackjack did on their other quests, Percy would've never thought he could do this. Just goes to show what can happen when you hurt someone's friend.

Yeah, Percy had calmed down enough to rationalize that this was a stupid idea (maybe his worst one yet), but he was still going to do it! This was Annabeth we're talking about! There's nothing he wouldn't do for her, and that includes storming straight into that gods-forsaken casino and demanding to know where she was.

If you're wondering, yes, he did just that when they got there. Blackjack almost passed out as soon as they landed, but Percy was already hopping off and running in before the pegasus had even caught his breath.

"Get out of here, bud! This is gonna get messy!" he called over his shoulder before pushing the front doors of the Lotus Hotel and Casino open.

Ω ♆ Ω

It was very clear that something was wrong as soon as Percy stepped into the lobby. It was completely empty. The farther he went in, the less he found. There was nobody. The last time he had been there, it was packed with people from all different time periods and everyone was doing something, but now, nothing.

It was disconcerting, to say the least. It felt like the beginning to every horror movie out there.

What was worse, is that every activity was shut down but one: the ferris wheel. It was spinning with all of the lights on, a faint carnival music playing from hidden speakers. Once again, Percy's thoughts drifted to horror movies. He wouldn't be surprised if a ghost popped up in front of him.

Before he continued on, Percy stopped and took a breath, bouncing up and down to shake out the nerves, "Come on, Percy. You got this. Just go save Annabeth and get out. That's all there is to it."

He walked up to the ferris wheel and saw that there was a single occupant riding it: Annabeth. She was up on the top, but Percy would recognize those golden locks anywhere. Her form was slumped against the side of her car, so she was probably unconscious. As she got closer to the ground, Percy saw that she was even more beaten up than the picture had shown. Her hands and ankles were bound with celestial bronze chains and she had a gag in her mouth.

Percy's blood boiled.

"Annabeth!" He shouted, running towards her as soon as the cart got to the bottom.

It kept moving, but he quickly grabbed her and pulled her off and away from the ride.

"Annabeth, wake up. Come on, 'beth, you have to be okay," he muttered, pulling the gag out of her mouth and starting to work on the chains, though he wasn't sure where to start.

Her eyes were still closed, but he heard a faint whisper from her mouth say, "It's Annabeth."

He laughed in relief, pulling her to his chest in a tight hug.

"Don't ever do that to me again. I lost it," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

Her eyes slitted open, "No promises, Seaweed Brain."

Percy was about to bring her in for a kiss when a voice interrupted them, "I'm glad you got to save her, Perseus. Now it'll be that much worse for you when we take her away again."

Percy shot up from the ground, pulling out Riptide and going into a protective stance in front of a kneeling Annabeth, "You're not going anywhere near her!"

The voice belonged to a mortal man. He had a long cut along his face, which seemed to be made by a claw, and his hair was a dark brown with speckles of grey. He seemed pretty average besides the scar. He had three men behind him, along with a hellhound, two empousa, and a couple basilisks. All looked ready to strike at a moment's notice.

The man tutted, "Oh, but I think I am. You see, you're going to give her to us."

Percy glared, "And what makes you think that?"

The man smiled, "Because of your family, of course. The normal one. Your mom, Sally, and her husband, Paul, and what's the last one's name...? The baby... Estelle! Yes, Estelle. We know where they are right now, and with one order from me, they will be killed by the giants we have standing by."

Percy growled, lunging forward, but a growl from the hellhound stopped him, "You're not going to touch them or Annabeth! I'll kill you first!"

The mortal leader gave a fake frown, "Oh, Perseus, how naive you are. Don't you see what's happening? Your people are the monsters. You just threatened to kill a mortal, the very thing you are put on this Earth to protect! How would your father feel about that?"

Hundreds of pipes burst in the hotel. Percy was only holding himself back because of Annabeth. As soon as she was out of danger, he would let himself go. He didn't care that they were mortals. Those men weren't the type of people he wanted to protect.

But- his family were still in danger. Even if the guy was bluffing, Percy couldn't take that risk.

Annabeth pulled herself to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Let them take me. You know it's the right thing to do. I'll be okay. You just need to lead the Avengers to their base, okay, and then you can save me all over again."

She cracked a small smile, hoping to comfort him but ultimately just making Percy feel worse.

Percy pulled her in for a searing kiss, and when he pulled back, a defeated look in his eyes, Annabeth knew he was letting her go. She had to; it was the best solution. She could protect herself and the Blofis family couldn't.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," Percy's eyes were misty and he was slipping on his control.

With one last, loving look at her boyfriend, Annabeth walked to the opposing group, allowing them to roughly grab onto her and pull her to the hellhound, who was ready to shadow travel her and the other mortals to wherever their base was.

Percy steeled himself for a fight because he knew there was no way it was that easy. He was not getting out of this unscathed. They had left the monsters there for a reason, and that reason was to probably kill him. That wasn't going to happen, though. They had chosen the wrong day to mess with Percy Jackson. He was going to let Hades rain down on them.

"Are we gonna stand here all day or are we gonna fight?" he asked, twirling his sword around, "You know what? Nevermind. I don't feel like fighting."

Then before the monsters could react, he released the storm within.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Come on people! Let's get a move on!" Steve shouted, already running to the quinjet.

He saw that everybody was still lagging, but wasn't sure what else to do. Fortunately, Piper had noticed his struggle and came to his rescue.

"Everybody hurry up! We don't know what stupid thing Percy is going to do, so we need to get there before he does it!" she yelled, lacing lots of charmspeak with her words.

Instantly, all of the demigods and Avengers sped up and were all on the jet within a minute. Steve gave Piper a grateful glance before climbing in himself, the daughter of Aphrodite following close behind.

Once everyone had taken their seats, Natasha and Clint up in the cockpit, they took off.

"So...does anyone even know what we're going to do when we get there? Or what Percy was planning on doing?" Leo asked, voicing everyone's thoughts.

Steve sighed, "We can only do damage control. If Percy hasn't done anything yet, we talk him down from it. If he has, we figure out a solution to getting it stopped, no matter what it takes. Now we don't know Percy as well as you five, so we need you to try and predict what he might do."

The rest of the Seven shared a look and Jason spoke up, "Percy and Annabeth are very...special to each other. If one of them is hurt, the other loses control very easily. So, basically, anything could have happened."

He glanced apologetically at the Captain, who just sighed in response. It was no doubt going to be a long day, and then an even longer one when Fury found out about this. Going down that train of thought made him more and more exhausted.

"Las Vegas, here we come," Tony muttered.

Ω ♆ Ω

As they started entering the Las Vegas area, it became abundantly clear that they were already too late to stop Percy. The sky was dark, thunder rolling through the clouds, rain pouring down on the streets around the casino. A whirlwind of water was circling the hotel and the ground was shaking. Geisurs were popping up just as fast as they were closing. It was a shitshow, basically.

"Percy did this? By himself?!" Tony exclaimed, staring in shock at the storm.

"Yep. He doesn't seem like much of a kid now, does he?" Jason said, strapping an arm guard on.

"Nope," Tony whispered.

Frank said, "How are we even going to get inside?"

"We're going to go from above, straight through the eye of the storm. It's the only opening, from what I can see," Natasha answered, already guiding the plane up and towards the center of the destruction, "Hold on. This is gonna get rough."

"Oh. That's comforting," Frank muttered, holding on to his seatbelt tight.

"Dude, if we crash, you can just turn into a fly or something and get out of here, but me, I'm going to die with the plane," Leo said, cracking a joking smile.

Hazel sighed, "Leo, your fireproof. If anyone would survive the crash, you would."

Leo chose not to point out that he was trying to lighten the mood with a self-deprecating joke. Hazel with confidence is scary.

Besides, that's when the shaking started. The wind and water was throwing the quinjet around, thrashing it from side-to-side, trying to throw it down but Natasha and Clint were keeping it up.

Slowly but surely, they got the plane lower and lower until it was hovering just above the courtyard of the hotel (if you can even call it that). It was an open area with rollercoasters and games all around. The Avengers couldn't believe they hadn't heard of this place before! It was amazing! The demigods, however, were shocked that the mortals could even see what was around them. The Mist was either weakening (unlikely) or the Avengers were starting to become clear sighted (could be bad).

"Ok, everyone, get out before this thing crashes!" Natasha yelled, gripping the steering gear like a lifeline.

It probably wasn't even her demanding voice that got everyone off the jet quickly, but they did anyway. The demigods and Avengers found themselves huddled behind a concession stand while they surveyed the area. It was easier for the demigods, who could naturally see through the veil of Mist surrounding it. The Avengers' eyes were refocusing every couple of seconds because something like a stuffed bear would turn into a stuffed Minotaur and then back into a bear again.

"Stay close, team. We're in unknown territory," Steve immediately slipped into his leadership role.

"Do you guys see Percy?" Hazel asked, looking around for her friend with a worried expression on her face.

"Um...yeah, I do. Over there," Frank's hand pointed towards the ferris wheel, and everyone's eyes followed it's path.

It led directly to the center of the storm, just as they all secretly knew it would. Everyone wanted to believe their friend or colleague couldn't be capable of creating a "natural" disaster until it happens. Now the team was left to clean up the mess.

"Oh, great. This should be fun," Tony sarcastically commented, seeing that Percy's eyes were closed and he was just sitting there on his knees.

He wasn't even wet, or affected by the storm at all. It seemed to be molding around the boy. The cracks on the ground had even left him alone. Percy was a force of nature.

"How are we going to get to him, let alone make him stop all of this?!" Jason asked, raising his voice to be heard over the screaming wind.

"I don't think he'll hurt us. He let us come down with the plane. If it was anyone else, he would've let it tear apart, but not us. He wants us to help him, and we're going to do just that, okay?" Piper answered, standing up.

She still had to stabilize herself on the cart, but she kept herself up. Everyone else in the group still looked skeptical of her plan, if you could even call it that, but they followed her lead and stood up as well.

With a calm determination only a demigod could possess in the face of battle, she started the trek over to their friend. Percy didn't make a move, either not seeing them or not caring.

"Percy. Percy. Listen to my voice, Percy. Everything is going to be alright. You need to focus on my voice, Percy," Piper started to say even though the wind was carrying it away a second later.

They had to try everything, and given the fact that the wind seemed to slow down just a tiny bit, Piper took it as a win.

The Avengers and the rest of the Seven were making slow movement, their feet feeling like lead as they forced themselves to keep going. They were grabbing onto whatever was nailed to the ground for support as small tremors rocked the building. It was obvious there had been a different, major earthquake that had caused most of the damage, so they weren't complaining about aftershocks.

"Keep going! We're almost there!" Steve yelled, digging his shield into the ground for something to hold onto.

It took a long time for a short distance, but they eventually made it to right in front of Percy. He had still shown no sign of knowing they were there.

"Percy! Can you hear us?!" Jason shouted, grabbing onto his gladius that he had previously stabbed into the ground.

Still no movement, though a tear did fall down his cheek. It was the only water that had actually touched him so far. Everyone but him was soaked to the bone, while he had stayed completely unaffected. Jason kneeled down and tried shaking his friend, only to be pushed back by a blast of water.

While he was sputtering out the liquid, Tony said, "We need a new plan! This isn't working!"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! But do you see a plan laying around here somewhere, cuz' I don't!" Piper shouted.

That's when a sea breeze blew through the area and under their noses. Unlike the stormy sea smell that Percy was radiating right now, this one was calming and gave you the feeling of a relaxing day at the beach. Jason was the quickest one to realize what was happening, so he warned everyone else as quick as possible, "Close your eyes!"

The Seven followed his instructions without question, being used to this by now (plus Jason wasn't planning on nearly dying again). The Avengers, however, were a divided front. Natasha, Clint, and Steve all did as they were told, not willing to take a chance on Frank being wrong about whatever he was scared of. Tony and Bruce, did not. They looked around at Frank like he was crazy. Fortunately, they had turned enough so that when there was a blinding flash of light and a small pop, nobody had seen it full-on. What was left afterwards was a man in a hawaiian shirt and sandals. He had tan bermuda shorts and a beat-up old fishing hat with the words Neptune's Lucky Fishing Hat on it. But those weren't the most shocking features about the man. What was most shocking was his similarity to Percy. His skin tone, matching Percy's. His hair color, matching Percy's with only a few more grey spots. His eyes, matching Percy's without a doubt. Natasha was the first of the Avengers to come to the startling realization that this was Percy's supposedly missing-at-sea father.

He was completely unaffected by the storm swirling around them. Physically, at least. He seemed to be really worried about his son, and only spared a glance at the other befores crouching in front of Percy. He put his hands on his son's shoulders and gently shook him.

"Son, wake up," Poseidon said, "You have to stop this."

Percy made a groaning sound and slitted his eyes open. His arms were wrapped around his stomach in pain.

"Ow," he muttered.

Poseidon cracked a small smile, though his eyebrows were still furrowed in worry, "That's what happens when you create a tropical storm and earthquake in the middle of Nevada."

Percy's eyes shot open, "Dad?! What're you doing here?!"

Poseidon gave him a frown, "Making sure my son doesn't kill himself."

Percy grimaced, holding himself just a little bit tighter at the reminder of what was currently still going on around them.

"Percy, what were you thinking?!" the god of the sea exclaimed.

The boy knew he was in the wrong, so he just shrugged and gave his father a misty-eyed, helpless look, "I can't make it stop, Dad. What do I do?"

Poseidon sighed. Seeing how fragile his son was right now broke his heart.

"You can let me help. We'll stop it together."

Percy nodded, letting the deity help him to his feet and support him once he got there. Neither man spared a glance at the assembled group of heroes behind them, instead turning determined faces towards the storm.

"You focus on the earthquakes. I'll take care of the storm, Perseus," Poseidon said.

The son of the sea god nodded, kneeling down so he had his hands placed on the ground. He closed his eyes and focused; focused only on the shaking, and then imagined the shaking receding like the tide. Then, eventually, it stopped all together.

He felt a large weight be lifted off his shoulders at the feeling of his power pulling itself back inside of him. His father had made quick work of the storm, and now all that was left was a trashed mystical hotel and casino.

Percy turned back to father, and gave him a small, grateful, exhausted smile, "Thanks, Dad. And I'm sorry for letting it get so out of hand. I know better than that."

Poseidon grasped his son in a bone-crushing hug, "It's okay, son. I'm not one to talk. Remember San Francisco?" he turned to a whisper, "That was my own version of a temper-tantrum. Don't tell your Uncle Zeus, though. He'd skin me alive if he knew the real reason I did that."

Percy's smile widened just a bit, "Okay, dad. You can let me go now. This is getting weird. We don't do this. You're not even supposed to be here right now."

At first, that last thought was just a flippant comment, but now Percy realized just how much trouble he, or his father, could be in with Zeus because of this.

"Dad! You're not even supposed to be here right now! You have to go! Right now, before Uncle Z finds out!" he shouted, shoving himself out of the hug.

Poseidon laughed, "Persues, think about it. You just created a 7.1 earthquake in Nevada, while simultaneously making a category 5 hurricane pop up nowhere near the coast. I think he noticed. He was actually the one to send me. He thought I'd be the only way to calm you down."

He gave his son a meaningful glance, and he got a sheepish neck rub in return.

Poseidon sighed again, "It's okay. He's not too mad. He's actually pretty happy that it wasn't one of his kids this time."

The god finally turned and acknowledged the other people in the room, giving Jason a look. Jason didn't seem to know what to do with that. He just kinda stood there, in shock that he had been noticed by Neptu- Poseidon.

Frank and Hazel both kneeled, soon followed by the rest of the demigods. It seemed that everyone was still recovering from the storm, and wasn't sure what to do with the fact that Percy's dad (a literal god) just showed up and was speaking with their friend like they were best buds (or more accurately, father and son).

The Avengers were giving incredulous looks to everyone, even the superspies. Ok, so first, a random fisherman shows up, then they find out that the guy is actually Percy's father, and then dad helps stop a natural disaster. But that was all easier to process than the kids kneeling to Percy's dad. Like he was God or something!

"Um, is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on right now?" Tony asked, head whipping back and forth between the look-a-like father and son and the rest of the teens.

Poseidon turned to the billionaire with an amused smile on his face, "Anthony Stark. Nice to finally meet you. My nephew enjoyed your work."

Percy snorted, realizing just what nephew his dad was talking about. Of course Ares would like a weapons manufacturer.

Tony smirked, smug, "Well, thank you, random stranger. That means absolutely nothing coming from you because we have not yet been introduced. I'm Tony Stark."

Poseidon turned to his son, "I like this one. Very brave."

"Give it a minute," Percy said, "It'll pass."

Ignoring the billionaire's protests, Poseidon turned to the demigods assembled, "Rise, half-bloods. You have saved Olympus enough to not need to kneel to me."

They cautiously rose.

"Olympus? Half-bloods? What are you talking about? Who are you?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes at the stranger.

She didn't trust him. He radiated too much power, power that was too similar to Percy's for her liking.

"I am Poseidon, Percy's father and a couple other titles. You may call me Lord Poseidon," was the answer she got.

She raised her eyebrows. The guy had a strong god-complex. Though she had met Thor before, and he had one just the same. Maybe these were more Asgardians or something like that.

"What are you?" Clint asked, not realizing just how much he was pushing it.

Poseidon's gaze darkened, "Be careful how you speak to me, mortal. I am being very gracious right now."

"Are you implying that you aren't mortal? Like Thor?" Bruce spoke up, literally surprising everyone.

The fact that he had come along was a miracle in itself, and now he was speaking to this obviously-powerful man.

Poseidon's nose wrinkled in disgust, "Thor is nothing like me. He is no god."

Percy decided to break in before things could get out of hand again, "Ok! Dad, you should probably get going. You know, oceans to run and everything!"

Poseidon's shark-like glare softened for his son and he nodded. But before he could leave, he pulled Percy aside.

"Tell them. You have our permission," he said.

Percy smirked, "I think I got that from you throwing around words like 'Olympus' and 'half-blood,' Dad."

Poseidon turned serious, "Be careful in the near future, my son. You have a rough journey through the Sea of Monsters to rescue Ms. Chase. She is on Polyphemus' island. That is all I could gather for you. I hope it is enough to keep you alive. I know it would be a fool's errand to try and convince you to not go. Your fatal flaw prevents it."

"I'll be okay, Dad. I promise."

Poseidon noticed how he didn't swear it on the River Styx. So Perseus had just as many doubts about this quest as he did. He refused to lose another son, though.

Placing a hand on Percy's shoulder, he spoke one last time, "Just be careful, Percy. For me, if you must."

Percy nodded.

"Alright," Poseidon said, "Everyone close your eyes!"

This time, everyone, including the mortals, listened.

Once the light had died down, Percy turned back to the Avengers and his friends, a hugely-apologetic look on his face.

"I'm so sorry, guys. Did anyone get hurt?" he asked, walking up to them.

"Reports are showing that there were only mild injuries, no fatalities," JARVIS' voice spoke from Tony's suit.

Percy felt some worry leave him at that reassurance, but the peace only lasted so long. He saw that every one of the Avengers were looking to the teenagers for an explanation, and now they had permission to give it.

The son of Poseidon heaved a great sigh, rubbing his gut again, "I think it's time you knew the truth. The full truth this time."

Ω ♆ Ω

Let me know what you think! I'm sorry for my wonky updating schedule...

other chapters :)

#pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #the avengers #avenger #mcu #superheroes #heroes of olympus #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #wattpad #series

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dayables · 4 years

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I'm glad you liked my yttd ramble the other day hahsjshsj. And I have some more stuff to say because this game lives rent free in my head.

I love the writing and storytelling from kimi ga shine, I really do but I think the way the later half of the second main game is structured, from a narrative point of view is kinda misleading. The whole focus of the last bit, with the Kanna vs Shin argument is on Kanna. Shin feels unsure and ungrounded so he resorts to interrupting her and abandons his calculated and calm facade he had until that point, which makes sense in a character point of view because it shows how he reacts when he is truly cornered. But it doesn't make sense considering afterwards the game clearly wants you to vote him. Honestly after playing the logic route the first time, the emotion route feels like a fever dream. It's all unicorns and rainbows and is such a contrast to the other option I wonder why we even had a choice in the first place. Unless further down the line there is some type of plot twist where our hope and optimism in the emotion route is punished I don't see why the game pushes so hard to make us feel guilty of killing Kanna in the Shin route. Honestly, after playing a chapter 3 full of internal conflict from Sara and other characters reacting to the traumatic nature of their situation, they seem so naive in the emotion route, idk if I'm explaining myself well enough. Like we fall into this weird bit where they will "for sure make it out alive" and Sara is determined to "bring everyone to safety", everything is "totally gonna be okay" and it just seems so... off? It makes no sense for them to think that right now, especially not after a failed escape attempt and seeing the way the floormasters and dolls can interfere with the game like Gashu did. (And knowing that even if they can take off their collars they will just be killed for desobying the rules from Shin's death)

On Kanna's death "cut scene" Sara literally thinks, and I quote "We need Sou to escape... / I... chose logic... / The worst possible choice..." what???? literally how? The whole point of this choice is that no matter which one it will always be a morally grey answer, there isn't a right or wrong here because either way you're killing one of your allies. And going back to the way the second main game is structured: the focus is all on Kanna so having Shin's death be the final arch for his character seems a bit out of touch. If we wanted that to be his big finale, if he's the one we're supposed to listen to, then why isn't he the one speaking for the majority of the time? The end of the discussion part is all about Kanna, Kanna's sacrifice, her whole speech about Kai's values and hope to defy the game and escape as a group, Kanna's wish to save Sou and Sara like she couldn't save her sister. Then why is listening the Kanna the worst choice? I think they were going for a "double final arch" per say, so you could in fact choose any of the two endings and still have a satisfactory conclusion but why did they have to push so hard afterwards for Shin's death to be "the right choice?". If that's just Sara's guilt speaking why doesn't she feel the same way (or at least the tiniest bit remorseful) for Shin?

And I know it's another level to the whole logic vs emotion, you either get a more satisfying narrative or a happier one but I don't think it had to be that different you know? That and the way the two deaths are handled makes it clear (even if unintentionally) that Nankidai gives priority to the emotion route. And when you can see that to this degree it makes me wonder why is this even a choice in the first place?

In conclusion, I seriously hope the emotion vs logic route isn't the thing that leads the player to a good vs bad ending. Or at least that it isn't as predictable as it seems right now, because if we are doomed right from the moment we chose to save Shin... idk it seems like a cheaper alternative to just have "save the child" as the objectively better ending. And again, I would personally make it so that the whole hero trope, happy-go-lucky nature of the characters in the emotion route would crumble somewhere during the final chapter, they can still have a happy ending but at least make it so that there are some consequences for choosing Kanna over Shin, literally anything at all. Them being suddenly almost unfazed by the deaths of their past allies is so out there it seems completely out of character. Like you said, Sara's stress doesn't come only from Joe's death and Shin's existence, it comes from leading a group of people to almost certain death, why is that no longer a problem? And if the difference between saving Kanna or Shin is more world building and knowledge later on then that needs to be a bigger difference between the routes because right now it's just Kanna good, Shin bad.

Anyways this turned out super long again but I just have. a lot of thoughts. I really do like Nankidai's storytelling, he does a very good job at it but when it comes to this? I think he made some questionable choices, I hope it becomes less linear in the future.

:DDD

Once again, this is my thoughts explained so well, so I’m going to expand with my thoughts :)

First off, the game clearly wants you to vote him. is very true. Shin’s death is nearly too perfect. Happy ending, a character arc wrapped up in a bow, constant praise for killing Shin and an even happier next part. A fever dream is the perfect way to describe the emotional route after playing logic first. Everything about it, seems so off.

What tipped me off, what really tipped me off, was Kanna’s reaction to We hin’s death. Especially when compared to Shin’s. Whether or not it’s healthy is debatable but it is at the very least co-dependant. Kanna was manipulated by Shin. Whether or not she cared for him the same way he cared for her* is up for debate.

*(we don’t have nearly enough context for a clear cut on her motives for her actions in part 2. Shin seems to be more concerned about saving Kanna specifically, while Kanna wants to save everyone including Shin. This can be linked back to her feelings of worthless. Yes, Shin is special to her, she mentions him and Sara. However, if they had not gotten close, Kanna likely would have made the same choice)

Kanna, almost didn’t seem to care that he died, that everyone else might die (from her own perception of what could happen). For someone who is wrecked by grief and death so much, she’s, just as happy as everyone else? It’s so out of character that she isn’t a teeny bit distressed.

See, the oh so happy attitude, part can be played off to Sara no longer being swallowed by self-loathing over Joe. She believes she can do it, and that will drastically affect how the part plays out. Yes, that is not where all her issues stem from. But, even that small weight could make all the difference in those moments. I’m okay with that because Sara is allowed to be unreliable. It’s the others reactions. Everyone is just like her. It’s so surreal how everyone seems have gotten their own Joe AI through someone's death?

The narrative actively pushes that choosing Kanna is the better thing to do logically, while killing Shin is foolish and a choice made from emotions. We are pushed to kill Kanna then rewarded when we save her. It’s all so jumbled. It’s all so wrong. Now from a story telling perspective, it is okay to reward us for listening to our hearts. My issue with the emotional route isn’t that it’s one big happy family, (because how much of that is Sara believing that?). It’s the concept it’s pushed to be better, happier and the ending you want.

As you said: Why is killing Shin a choice if it’s so bad?

Is it to give the player an illusion of choice?

It makes the emotion route so fever dreamish after finishing the emotion route. So jumbled. It makes it less satisfying but I believe it is for a reason.

Right now everything is too linear. We either have the most important player in this game dead, or against us. It’s not like the Reko/Alice choice. This was so major, so why is it so linear?

It’s unnerving, how happy the game is when the exact same thing is happening but bleaker when you save Shin.

It’s terrifying. Everything is the exact same, but it’s not. And it’s something i’ve seen no one else who played emotion first get. Because I don’t know if you can exactly grasp how unnerving their happiness is (I obviously didn’t play emotion first but I’ve never seen anyone point it out despite most of tumblr playing emotion first) at first.

I am terrified of the emotional route for their being nothing bad. Because they’re are bad things and good things. in the logic route.

Why is one route so happy and the other realistic? Why Nankadai? Why?

I have belief that this is purposeful. I believe a game that creates dread so easily (look at how we’re all terrified of main games, Midori, part 3b) and horror (just look at the deaths) is not creating the terror unintentionally. Especially when it’s so easy to miss.

The fact it can be taken down to Kanna good, Shin bad, is a build-up for a crash. This game built up Kai surviving longer than the first game so well and look at how that went. It takes one slip and the happiness of emotion crashes down like glass. The logic route does not need to end happier, but all Shin needs is a push and the bleakness of Logic cannot hold up.

These routes are resting on a needle. It takes so many mistakes (more than can be made in a single route) to unintentionally put them there.

There is a lot of room for this to go wrong. You’re right, it’s bad writing right now for the routes that are so linear to be so different. It’s worrying, jumbled and does not make sense. I agree with you! The choices here are questionable. ^^, I just believe these are purposeful, especially when we don’t know what’s coming next

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