#i still have two more asks to answer. apologies for the delay
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
nysus-temple · 2 years ago
Note
Hey, I am asking about Pan's and Dionysus' relationship lol. Doing this based on your recent incorrect quotes post! What is their relationship with each other like?
The tags, i bet xD in any case, i do have some few details about them i was saving in case i had to explain the quotes. It's not much, but that's due to Pan becoming, kind of forgotten, mixed with other gods, or just turned into a common satyr.
Pan was a rustic god, his worship wasn't done much outside of caves, because, yes, his santuaries were inside caves. And he just ended up becoming a normal satyr who was with the rest of satyrs that vibe around Dionysus. With the exception of him being the father of an specific race of satyrs, according to Nonnus of Panopolis. I don't have their names, they didn't do anything that any other satyr couldn't do, nothing new.
According to the Homeric Hymn XVII to Pan, he was liked by many of the gods when Hermes took him to Olympus because he was funny. And it is specified that Dionysus was the one who liked him the most. But... This is pretty much it. Guess he just saw him and thought "oh he looks like a satyr, but at least he's funny, i'll keep him." and moved on. The Orphic Hymn XI to Pan doesn't mention Dionysus actually, the god it mentions is Zeus, when comparing Pan to another god, calling him "the authentic horned Zeus".
Now, the funny part in which i decided to base the incorrect quotes... Nonnus of Panopolis, again.
In his work, Pan is compared to Dionysus a lot, like a lot, literally most of the times that he's mentioned is just to say "lmao why can't you be like Dionysus", even in the one in which it's actually Pan himself the one who keeps complaining about not being able to be like Dionysus. In one part, Pan complaing about not being able to make people go insane, or the ability to use wine to do that thing as well, drive people mad. I guess knowing how Pan's characteristics are like, it makes sense that he was jealous of Dionysus' scarier side, since he did want to be able to drive people mad.
Or that one other part of Nonnus' same work in which Pan laughs at Dionysus being rejected by a nymph, saying "hey, we are actually very alike! We are both miserable right now!" and Dionysus just stares at him, while picking up wine, with a "please shut the hell up" look. It's a very funny part for me, since Pan is just letting out a monologue of "oh we're both so mistreated by everyone!" and Dionysus just keeps and keeps doing whatever he can to stop people from comparing them.
The last thing i can share from Nonnus' work regarding this two, is Dionysus mocking Pan regarding the last thing i explained: Dionysus tells him "you shouldn't complain, you have it better than me, at least Echo (the nymph who Pan loved) returns your voice" which is mockery, since the reason Echo repeats what the other says is because Hera cursed her, not because she loved Pan. So. Yeah. Mockery.
In general, i think the conclusion we can achieve is that... They're in decent terms, but Pan is growing closer and closer to make Dionysus actually want to kill him. Pan is like the boomer who keeps telling the young dude "back in my days this wasn't like this" and annoying him wth the shenanigans.
That's to be taken with a grain of salt, though. Since we're talking about Nonnus of all sources. It's simply not good to use him as a source without further evidence for the stuff he writes about. So. Let's say they're good buddies according to the Homeric Hymn-
11 notes · View notes
morganbritton132 · 4 months ago
Note
was thinking about that wayne buying little steve cereal text post and was wondering if you still plan to write the fic its inspired? if so i am definitely looking forward to it and am cheering you on. if not that's cool too, i was just curious!
Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever actually write the fic. But! I will tell you what I had in mind because it wasn’t supposed to be a sad fic!
Wayne starts noticing this kid around town.
He shouldn’t. He doesn’t notice any other kid, and this boy is well-dressed. He seems polite enough and well-behaved. There’s no reason that Wayne should pay him any mind, except… the hair. It’s a mess. It’s brushed up and backwards like the person who fixed it didn’t quite know what they were doing.
He keeps seeing that hair everywhere.
It’s asking questions at the hardware store about lightbulbs. It’s distracting Bob at the Radio Shack. It’s taking up half the aisle at Melvard’s with a cart it can’t see over, and asking Wayne, ‘Mister, can you reach the floss for me, please?’
There’s nothing out of the ordinary, honestly, but Wayne feels a might uncomfortable every time he sees this head of hair (a bit more stylish than the last) doing something that a parent might do. Especially because he never sees a parent.
It comes to head when he’s three people back in line at Melvard’s and people are complaining. He sticks his head out to see what the hold up is and sees that head of hair again, counting out quarters and dimes at the counter for a box of cheerios.
Davey, in front of him, swears under his breath and bounces on his feet like he’s about to say something, but Wayne beats him to it. Wayne takes the few steps up to the counter, looks Donald in the eye and wishes that it had been Joyce Byers instead.
He sits his carton of eggs and gallon of milk down on the counter next to the kid’s cereal and tells Don to ring it all up together. Then he tells the kid, “Put your money away, boy.”
He tries to talk to him outside the store, but the boy squeaks out ‘thanks’ and is running before Wayne can get anything out. He doesn’t see him for a while after that, and he can’t stop thinking about how hungry he looked.
A month and some change later, Wayne finds himself sliding into a booth at the diner across from the kid with the hair. He’s devouring slices of toast, pennies and nickels counted out on the table next to him.
The kid startles, and Wayne cuts to the point, “You hungry?”
The kid nods in that skittish way that reminds him of his nephew and Wayne orders two plates of pancakes. He lets the boy eat before he asks where his parents are. He gets no answer. He asks if he has enough food at home. The kid’s eye flicker to him and then back down, “Usually.”
He clicks his tongue, swears internally, and asks how often he’s left alone and hungry, and the boy says, “Their flight got delayed.”
The boy shrugs his shoulders and explains the money they leave him, and how sometimes he’s runs out but he’s learning better. It crushes Wayne just a little that he seems so proud of himself. Wayne gives the kid his number and tells him that if he’s ever hungry to call him.
For a while, Steve would call sporadically. Sometimes goes weeks, sometimes months. They’d meet at the diner and eat. This eventually lead to Wayne cooking for him in his trailer, then to him teaching Steve the basics, then to them cooking together.
Steve got older. He got a credit card. He got busier with school, and sports, and his friends. He didn’t need Wayne to feed him anymore, but they still tried to have dinner at least once a month.
When Eddie came to live with Wayne, he told him that Stevie came to dinner every third Saturday of the month. Eddie assumed Stevie was Wayne’s girlfriend.
The first Saturday that passed, Steve had to cancel because he had a basketball game. The second Saturday, Steve’s parents were in town so he couldn’t come. The third, Steve no showed, called the next day delirious with flu and apologized to Wayne.
The fourth Saturday rolls around and Eddie is thinking, “Man, this chick does not like Wayne. He needs to break up with his girlfriend before it gets really sad.”
Then there is a knock at the door, and Eddie opens it to the biggest jock asshole in the school.
Eddie stares at Steve in horror, and Steve stares back in total confusion, and then they both get annoyed like, “What are you doing here?”
Then cut to Eddie calling Steve out on bullying and Steve tattling about Eddie walking on the lunch tables. They bicker and argue, and Wayne secretly loves it.
401 notes · View notes
wakyu-waku · 1 month ago
Note
I love your writing! Can I have an Astro x Reader, please? Reader is usually very outgoing and energetic, but around Astro they’re very calm and quiet. Astro asks about this one day, and Reader is like “oh you don’t like loud noises.”
Slides you two dollars and a stick of gum
Of course! I love the idea very very much, and you anon have the honor to be my first Dandy’s World x Reader story! And apologies for the delay, I’ve had a mini break to charge my power to start writing everybody’s requests!
Tumblr media
Astro x Reader - Slumber Party
You and Astro were exact opposites in every way, with Astro being the calm yet timid introvert he was- and you the energetic flower. Always happy to have fun and help other toons, as Astro observed from afar about you.
You and Astro were exact opposites in every way, that it came as a surprise to him and every toon that you’d caught feelings for him- and made it very clear by confessing to him.
You and Astro had already been close friends before such feelings blossomed, however Astro always noticed when it was just the two of you alone- you suddenly were all calm and quiet. You were still your kind self, however such a shift made Astro wonder- even after your confession to him.
And your confession to him gave him more questions than answers.
It was just the two of you looking at the starry sky, when you whispered your love to Astro with the same happy grin.
You expected Astro to be asleep already by the time you whispered your love to him, but suddenly his eyes sprung open and a blue blush was cast over his cheeks.
It’d been a few weeks then when you two started dating, and now you were planning a slumber party for all the toons!
“Brightney, I’m really grateful you were so eager to help organize everything for the slumber party!” You energetically say as Brightney crossed off some checkmarks on her list, not knowing Astro was watching from afar as usual.
“Of course [Your Name]! I’m always happy to help you and Astro!” Brightney giggled.
“Everything’s ready for this awesome slumber party! See you tonight!”
As Brightney waved goodbye, you would notice Astro putting some lavender on the vases. You’d go over and help him out.
“Lavendars?” You ask with a warm smile, your voice now a mere whisper.
“Mhm..” Astro nods, smiling back at seeing your face. “They help with sleep and anxiety..”
“I remember the smell.. Did you put some of it on your blanket?” You ask, making Astro a bit shocked you’d notice such a small detail on such a quiet Toon like himself.
“Mhm.. I have..!” Astro nods, a blue blush dusting his cheeks.
Soon enough, the sun had set and it was time for the slumber party! Toons started flooding in, and you did most of the greeting as Astro watched.
“I HATE SLUMBER PARTIES!!” Shrimpo shouted as he stomped in.
“But you came by anyways! Hehehe!” You giggled as Shrimpo grimaced.
“You know [Your Name], this slumber party is so gorgeous! Really sparkling decorations!” Glisten praised until he froze up at the sight of a familiar fish bowl.
“Glisten’s right, [Your Name]! This really is Fin-Tastic!” Finn laughed as Glisten scowled, and you couldn’t help but laugh along as well.
Astro watched on with a smile on his face at all the toons you talked to during the slumber party. Although he didn’t participate in the activities himself, he felt a fuzzy feeling watching you and everyone else have fun.
But if you’re so happy all energetic and outgoing, why weren’t you that way around him? Was he making you unhappy all this time?
He always had these questions in him, but at this particular night they started to claw at him so tightly like the second pair of arms around his body.
When it was finally time for all the toons to go to sleep in their own sleeping bags or spots on the couch, you and Astro stayed awake.
Astro couldn’t believe the look of love in your eyes as you at him.
“[Your Name]..” Astro shakily sighed out, worry weighing his back. “You’re always so outgoing and excited with the other toons.. However with me, you’re so quiet.. Why is that?”
You only gave a reassuring smile and opened up your arms.
“You don’t like loud noises Astro, so I’m quiet so you’re comfortable. Because I love you very very much..”
Sleeping in your arms felt like the softest cloud in the world for Astro, and his worries all flew away to the wind. Your love for him was the most comforting blanket, and that night every toon had a good dream.
141 notes · View notes
chelseasdagger · 11 months ago
Text
Teacher - Chapter III
Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader
Tumblr media
Summary: Frank invites you to hang out with him at a bar on the outskirts of town. After some good food, and lots of teasing, you get invited back to his place to take care of the problem you caused him.
Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, grinding, detailed handjob sorry, slight praise kink
Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out!! I had a lot of life issues that delayed this, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so please accept this super long chapter as my apology/holiday gift!! And if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know. As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!
Word Count: 9k
Previous Chapters: I, II
Tumblr media
“So I was thinkin’… Said you didn’t get many experiences even after high school, right?” Frank asks. His voice slightly muffled through the phone, which is wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you drag the spatula over the food you’re cooking on the stove. He had randomly rang you out of the blue and, after attempting to control your breathing, you answered the call. This was what he chose to greet you with and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confused by the topic of conversation.
“Good morning to you too,” you tease, the food sizzling as you flip it in the pan. “But no, I haven’t. Why? What’s up?” you question.
“There’s this bar on the edge of town,” he begins his offer. “Little bit of a drive but they got good food,” he explains. 
“Tempting…” you trail off, trying not to immediately agree just because it’s Frank. “Who all is coming?”
“Just me,” he replies. “That alright?”
“Yeah!” Your answer is too loud and far too fast to be playing it cool. After cursing yourself mentally, you try again. “Yeah, I was just wondering if it was a whole… get-together thing.” Your voice grows quiet at the end, not wanting to plant the idea in his head that you’d prefer it if there were more people.
Honestly, you were surprised he was reaching out this soon after the bonfire. It was one of the best nights of your life. Whenever you think about it, there’s this warmth that rushes through you; you’re not sure if the heat was from the big flames or his strong chest you laid against all night.
“Nah, just me. Just thought it would be somethin’ you might like,” you push the spatula around in the teflon pan as he speaks. “Plus it’s another thing off the list, right?”
“Yeah, it is! Thanks, Frank,” you say cheerily as you turn the burner off and open the cupboards to grab two plates.
“No problem, kid. Just thought about you, y’know?” You sink your teeth in your lower lip to calm yourself down before another thought comes to mind.
“Oh! When are we going?”
“Tonight,” he answers nonchalantly and your eyes grow wide. “If you’re free.”
You seriously weren’t expecting him to want to see you only two days since you two were last together. In your head, Frank is so calm and collected and you’re practically certain that this… thing you two have going on isn’t as big of a deal to him as it is to you. Still, you try not to question too much why he actually seems to enjoy having you around. Instead, you decide to just take the good as it comes.
“I am, I can do tonight. But I’m not sure I have something to wear. Is it like a club? Should I dress up or is it more jeans and—?” You don’t even realize when your voice picks up in speed and the questions fly out faster than you intend for them to, but Frank is quick to center you out of the beginning of your spiral.
“Just wear somethin’ cute, alright? I’ve seen some of your outfits, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment and inhale deeply before sighing. “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” You hum an agreement as he confirms the time and say a goodbye before hanging up.
As you pull the phone away from your ear, you see an incoming text from your best friend drop down from the top of the screen.
“I’m two minutes away! I can’t wait to hear everything.”
That night when you got home from the bonfire, she had sent many texts in hopes of finding out the reasoning behind the newfound closeness between you and Frank. In your exhausted and slightly inebriated state, you told her that you would have her over Saturday morning to explain it all to her. You were much too tired to string the words together and you also know how she can tend to put her own emotions onto words; the last thing you needed was for her to hear the little arrangement you and Frank have and blow it out of proportion.
You set the table as you wait for her, making sure to leave a mug beside her plate for her tea that tends to be the staple of her breakfast. By the time the food is divvied up for each of you, there’s an impatient knock at the door. You shake your head with a smile as you open the door and she’s pushing past you as the questions immediately begin to roll off her tongue.
After guiding her to the small dining table in the kitchen, you watch her sit down and her eyes never stray from you. Her voice continues to fill the air as she talks over herself; there’s no distinct end to one sentence and the beginning of the next. By the time you’re sitting beside her and about to dig into your meal she finally covers her mouth, stopping all the enthusiastic queries she desperately wants to know.
“I’m gonna let you talk,” she mumbles behind her palms. You laugh at her attempts to force herself to be quiet and pick up a forkful of your food.
“I promise you it’s not as exciting as you think it is,” you warn her before popping the food in your mouth.
You start at the beginning—trying to skim over the details of your not-so-controlled crush on Frank as well as the more heated parts of the things you two have done together. Excited gasps fill the space surrounding the dining table and you watch as her eyes go wide when you mention it was his idea. Her mouth gets the better of her though and she begins to ask more questions while you speak. You make sure to answer all of them in time, save for a few chuckles here and there, before finishing your last bite.
“I actually have a question for you now,” you start again, watching as confusion washes over her features. “Frank called me this morning and he wants to take me out to this bar he likes. I just don’t know what to wear and I was hoping… you could help me?” You hesitantly look up to face her and you’re met with a beaming grin.
“Is this a date?! Is this the first one? Are you going back to his place after?” You shake your head once again as the sudden influx of questions fill the air.
“No, it’s not a date. I mean… I don’t think it is?” you let your thought process be shown aloud and watch as her giddy expression comes back to the surface. “It’s not! We’re just friends and he’s doing me a favor. I’m sure of it.” You decide then and there that you can’t afford to hold out hope and expect more than what he’s given you—which is already so much.
She raises her eyebrows up from behind the rim of her mug and you scoff at her knowing look. You brush your hand through your hair and try your hardest to not let your anxiety creep in about the idea of being on a proper date with Frank Castle.
And so together the two of you spend the afternoon diving through your closet together for something that could fit. It felt similar to a movie montage where the teenage girls toss different colorful fabrics through the air. With a growing pile on the floor of your bedroom, she gasps once you stand in the completed outfit.
“That’s the one!” she says excitedly before tugging you towards the bathroom. “Time for makeup!” She eagerly pats for you to sit on the counter while searching through your, admittedly limited, makeup bag. Doing the best with what she’s got, she gets to work on the eyeshadows and blush, finishing up with a curl of your eyelashes and combing mascara through them. You always loved how focused she got when it was time for something special; her tongue pokes past her lips as she concentrates, her eyes squinting to get the very last detail to sit right.
Once she’s satisfied, she spins you around to see yourself in the mirror and you’re actually surprised at how nice it all came together. You’re wearing an oversized, comfy jumper, tights that line your legs, and a black skirt that accentuates your frame. It’s not too fancy, but the black tights make your outfit more sleek and you silently hope that Frank will like it. As you fluff your hair up to give it some more volume, you thank her behind a wide smile.
A buzz of excitement rushes through you as you wait by the front door and hear the heavy revving from the engine of Frank’s van. You physically shake your arms in an attempt to let go of some of the nerves that built up and your friend gives you a quick hug.
“You got it, baby!” she encourages sweetly. “Have fun!” she calls out as you slip past the door. Making your way down your porch steps, you hear her shout something else from behind you. “Don’t do anything stupid!”
You chuckle at her warnings and make your way to the big, black van. You open the door and find Frank sitting with his elbow on his armrest and his head in his palm as he turns to face you. You stand there for a moment and await his initial reaction to your outfit. His eyes widen slightly before they rake over your boy, his lips parting as he takes it all in.
He brushes his thumb along the defined line of his jaw before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes settle on the small slit of the skirt that rests high on your thigh. There’s a pause for a moment before he finally speaks up.
“Told you you’d find somethin’ cute.” He fixes his posture and gives you a smile as you roll your eyes and sit in the passenger seat. Being with him felt easy now—of course there’s still the butterflies, which you’re expecting to make a permanent home in your stomach any day now, but it’s mostly when you’re about to see him. When you’re actually in his presence, it all fades away and you love how comfortable he makes you feel.
If you had told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d be on a half hour car ride with Frank Castle to the outskirts of town, she probably would’ve brushed it off as some sick joke. But here you are, sitting beside him and watching as he flips through radio stations until he settles on a classic rock song. You enjoyed getting to discover little pieces of him the more time you spent with him.
As he drives under the lamp posts longing the winding roads, you watch as the passing lights illuminate his face before it’s cloaked in shadows of the night once again. Each time you move underneath them, light showcases his features in a warm glow for mere moments at a time. You think your new favorite thing might be when the gleam seeps into the small dip in the bridge of his nose. That small highlight makes you smile and he catches it as he turns to look at you once you’re stopped at a red light.
“What is it?” he questions, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at you. With a shake of your head, you face back to the light strung up in the air. His gaze doesn’t leave the side of your face though, and you know he’ll want an answer.
“This is just nice,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you for thinking of me,” you add. You want to make sure he knew how happy you were to be doing this, despite your quiet nature due to your fear of somehow screwing this up with your words.
“Haven’t even done anything,” he laughs softly.
“Well, I’m still enjoying myself,” you reply in a gentle tone. Frank doesn’t say anything more as he continues to look at you. The light changes and a green glow washes over your face, queuing him to face the open road once again. You glance down as his hand moves to the gear shift, trying not to focus too long on how the veins in his hand are accentuated as he curls his fingers around the knob.
Frank speaks up again after a moment and you quickly recenter your attention. He engages you in some light conversation and pretty soon you’re laughing along to his comedic storytelling. You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until he’s put the car in park and turns the key off in the ignition. Looking out from behind the glass in front of you, you see the neon lights surrounding the big, bold letters of the name of the bar. It shines brightly in the night sky and acts as a small beacon in the dark parking lot.
You look up at the sound of the driver side door closing and realize Frank has left the car. You reach for your bag that’s resting on the floor between your feet and by the time you move for the handle, he’s opening your door for you. It’s the first time you’re able to truly take him in. He’s wearing a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans and a grey jacket, complete with the black boots you’ve never seen him without. You can’t tell what he’s wearing under the thick material that conceals his chest though, and you find yourself hoping it’s something tighter and hugs his torso.
“You ready?” he asks, and you nod in response. “Alright, watch your step,” he warns and you feel his hand bracing your upper arm as you hop out from the slightly lifted van. Once you’re secure on the ground, the two of you begin making your way towards the entrance. As you pass by the cars parked in organized rows under dim lamplights, you begin to make out the few scattered people smoking and even spot a couple sharing a cigarette just outside the main doors.
Once inside the building, he shrugs off the jacket and you can finally piece together his outfit. Frank’s broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the dark blue button up shirt. It’s tucked into his denim pants and secured with a black belt. He fits the attire of everyone else here in the bar, but still stands over a head taller than the rest—not to mention infinitely more attractive. You try desperately to rip your eyes away from him, and in doing so, take in the scenery of the pub.
The bar is crowded but not so occupied that you can’t move. The loud, overlapping voices meld to create a soft droning that accompanies the background. It doesn’t stand a chance to the band though, whose loud amplifiers cause a shake in your chest with each note they strum. Polished wood lines the walls and there’s photographs of smiling people decorating them, forever cherished behind glass frames. It feels oddly homey, admittedly impressive for a place you’ve never stepped foot into before tonight.
You accidentally bump into Frank and he steadies you with his large hands on your waist. He’s staring down at you with a subtle smile on his face. He begins to talk but you don’t have the slightest clue what he’s saying; the song that’s playing is far too loud to hear the lower tone of his voice. Shaking your head with a frown, you let him know you can’t understand him and his smile grows wider. He then leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from your ear before he speaks.
“Asked if you wanted to eat,” he starts, his breath immediately warming the side of your neck. With just those few words, it feels like all the other noise falls away. All you can focus on is the rumble in his voice and how the words feel as if they dance down your spine. “I’m starving,” he adds, and you’re certain your new headspace gave his words a different context than he intended.
He pulls away for your response and all you can muster up is a slow blink and a delayed nod. There’s no cocky smirk at your expression and you wonder if maybe he decided to spare you the embarrassment this time. He promptly turns and you fall in line beside him, letting him guide you around the crowd. His palm finds its way to your lower back as he leads you and just like that, your heart picks up in pace once more.
You’ve only seen the same small movement depicted in movies and you can now safely say that experiencing it is so much more exhilarating. Part of you is frustrated that such an insignificant touch can make you this excited, but Frank’s charm has a tremendous effect on you. Still, you tell yourself it’s the anticipation of his hand being elsewhere on your body that riles you up.
His hand stays put until the two of you reach a booth lining the back wall. There’s a small lamp that bathes the whole table in a warm glow and you and Frank place your things down before sliding into the long seats. As you stare at him from across the table, you watch as his eyes scan the crowd and then the main stage as he focuses on the band. They’re currently playing a cover of a classic rock song and Frank smiles as he nods his head to the music.
“This place is nice,” you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the music. He turns to face you and his smile grows wider.
“Yeah? You like it?” His question is accompanied by your own nod and he continues. “I’m sure there’s fancier ones close to town, but I’ve been coming here for years and they’ve always been good.”
He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head up and leaning to the side as if to catch someone’s attention. You follow his line of sight and look over your shoulder to see a woman with a black apron tied around her waist. She looks slightly past you as a grin covers her face and walks over to your table quicker than you expected.
“Frank?! What are you doing here?” Her voice is already grating and she’s only said a handful of words. Her tone is drawn out, almost flirtatiously, and she stands closer to him than you would’ve liked.
“Just showing her around,” he answers simply. He looks at you and when the waitress does the same, her face falls. You muster up an awkward smile and try to shake off the weird look she gives you. “She’s never been here before, you think we could get some menus?”
“Sure thing,” she mumbles, stepping away only to return a moment later with two long, laminated sheets of paper. She drops them to the table and you spare yourself the trouble of looking at her again.
“She sure seems to like you,” you speak up once she’s left. Frank scoffs before grabbing a menu and shaking his head. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What did I do?” You ask with a frown, wondering if you did something unintentionally.
“She’s probably just pissed cause you’re sitting with me and she’s not,” he answers with a sigh. He flips the paper around and you notice the way his eyes dart around the page. His answer wasn’t very reassuring though, and you still feel the tension in your body. As you scan the small print of the menu in your hands, you can feel his gaze on you. You try to shake the disappointment and to make it less obvious that what she said affected you, but you’re not certain how good of an actress you are.
“Y’know what?” he speaks up after a few seconds. You raise your face to him as he continues, “I know this place a couple of blocks down? Best god damn beer I’ve had.” His hand disappears under the table and a moment later you see his fingers curled around his jacket. “It’s German! You haven’t tried that one before.” He leans across the table before whispering, “You’re gonna hate it.”
His attempts at distracting you work well and you can’t help the laughter escaping you at the final thing he said. Frank’s own crooked smile returns at your reaction and a softness settles into his brown eyes.
“There she is,” he mumbles once he sees your regular self bubble back up to the surface. You bring in a deep breath and choose to shake off any residual awkwardness you felt from before.
“No, no it’s okay. We can stay here.” You finish your sentence and look back towards the music before facing him. His hands are empty now as he continues to stare at you and you feel confident in your choice to stay.
After looking over the endless list of drinks, burgers, and other appetizers, you read a description of a sandwich that makes your stomach rumble to life. You immediately decide on it without a second thought and smile up at Frank, watching him run his finger across the page between two options and looking quite indecisive.
Before long, the ill behaved waitress is back to take down your order. You pick your sandwich, remembering to take off the toppings you aren’t too fond of, add in an order of fries, and your usual favorite drink to top it off. With a hesitant glance up, you see her scribbling down your order on the small notepad in her hand. Her expression is twisted up as if she smelled something foul and you feel that uneasy feeling settling in once more.
“I’ll have the same as my date here,” Frank answers before she can ask about his meal. He gently taps the two menus on the tabletop before handing them over to her. His lips part as his eyes drag over your features and you notice the way they stop for a little longer than they should when they reach your mouth.
To say you were shocked was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he said it just to get under her skin or not but part of you didn’t really care. He said it regardless and that made a smile carve its way onto your face. An annoyed scoff is heard from above and you see a hand come into view to snatch the menus away from Frank. He never looked away from you once.
The moment the food arrives, you’re excitedly grabbing your sandwich and lifting it to your mouth. As your teeth sink into the toasted bread, the flavor hits your tongue and a satisfied moan escapes you. Frank is quick to lift his eyes at the sound, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene in front of him. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin to grow bashful at the look on his face.
“Sorry!” You apologize, your voice muffled behind your palm. “It was just really good,” you explain once you swallow your food down.
“Don’t gotta apologize for that, kid,” he replies through his own raspy chuckle. You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before reaching for the fries in your basket next.
The two of you dig into your identical meals and make some easy conversation in between bites here and there. You’re honestly impressed with how good the sandwich is and you’re glad you picked it out of the infinite number of items on the menu. Frank wasn’t lying when he said he loved this place. You watch him look up from his meal every now and then with a big smile on his face as he moves his head to the beat of the music. His energy was infectious and you found yourself tapping your toes along too. 
“Y’know,” he speaks up after finishing the last bite of his sandwich. At the sound of his voice, you begin to look up to his face, but your eyes latch on to something else. Frank sucks his fingers clean of the salt from his fries, his lips pursing as his cheeks hollow, and you immediately lose any grip you had on controlling your thoughts around him.
“When we ordered I saw your beer on the menu.” You hear his words but they have absolutely no meaning, no way of stringing them together to make a continuous thought as you watch him suck the seasonings from his thumb. You begin to feel a sense of injustice at the fact that those fingers weren’t where you desperately wanted them to be. With a pout, you look back to his gaze and see the confusion clear in his eyes.
“What?” you blurt out, finally remembering he had spoken and that you hadn’t processed anything he had said. He scoffs before shaking his head, his smirk spreading wide across his face before he speaks again.
“Said they have the beer you like here,” he repeats himself, his cocky grin a clear indicator that he saw how you froze up at sight just moments ago.
“I’m actually good tonight,” you say confidently. Reaching for your glass, you take a sip of your drink and hold his gaze as you stare at him from under your eyelashes. He sits back against the cushion of the booth and his eyebrows pull together as he thinks about what you said.
“Yeah?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.
“Mhm, not letting a few beers stop me from what I wanna do after this,” you explain. You’ve never felt more frustrated than when he stopped you from kissing on his neck. You understood why he did it, and are actually very thankful he didn’t want it to go further, but the disappointment coursed through you all the same.
“Hmm? And what exactly is that?” he questions as the band finishes up the song they had been playing. Your eyes follow the noise as the crowd erupts into whistles and claps, applauding the musicians. When you finally look back over, Frank’s in the same position. It’s like he never looked away from you—hell, you’re not sure if he even blinked.
You don’t answer him though and make up your mind to keep him on the edge of his seat. Instead, you smile sweetly before picking up a fry from your basket and popping it past your lips. 
He gives you a knowing look, but doesn’t pry. Perhaps he was looking forward to the surprise of it all. You only hope you can remain as confident as you feel now so you can properly act out your plan. Before long, he swallows down his last french fry and Frank speaks up with a question.
“You wanna go dance?” Your whole body freezes at the mere thought of attempting to dance, not to mention the added nerves of doing it in a crowded room with Frank Castle standing witness. But as you look out onto the dance floor full of moving bodies, you realize most of them are probably far too intoxicated to really pay attention to you. Deciding to push past the initial fear, and wanting to be fully present with him and have fun, you nod and scoot out of the booth.
Frank stands in front of you and his hand soon comes into view of your eyeline. You place your hand in his and feel his fingers curl around your palm as you brace your weight on him and rise to your feet. You stand on your toes and motion for him to come closer so you can speak into his ear.
“Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer,” you say after he’s tilted his head towards you.
“What part of me screams that I’m a good one?” he asks, and you chuckle at his joke. He smiles down at your laughter and nods his head behind him, letting you know he’s going to the dancefloor.
Frank keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you through the crowd. His broad body splits the sea of bodies as he walks and you follow close enough behind him to squeeze past them as well. There’s blue hues from the dim lights that shine over the people, but other than that you can’t see much beside their moving feet. He must’ve gotten to a clearing where there’s not as many people bumping into one another, because he stops walking and turns to you.
You’re sort of frozen still for a moment as the reality of it is beginning to creep in. But then Frank starts to shimmy his shoulders and you can’t help but break into a wide grin. Just like that, you’re thawed. The awkwardness you felt is starting to leave you as you begin to loosen up in front of him.
The band plays a fun, upbeat song that you don’t recognize, but he seems to be making the moves up as he goes along. You follow his direction, copying him but still keep some distance, trying to slowly shake off those nerves that are still lingering around. Suddenly, Frank does a move that you can’t even begin to describe with words alone and you burst into laughter as you watch him. Holding your stomach, you shake your head at him and he begins to laugh too. 
The band then retires from the stage, saying their farewells as the crowd applauds and whistles. Frank claps along with the rest of them and you cup your hands around your mouth to give a small cheer. You really enjoyed their set and wouldn’t mind coming back here again to watch them play once more.
Once the stage is clear, music begins to play over the speakers and Frank’s face lights up. His excitement is clear after just the first few notes.
“God, this takes me back,” his wide grin causes his eyes to squint up. You smile up at him, happy at his enjoyment, but you can’t help your head from tilting to the side confusedly.
“You haven’t heard this before?” he asks incredulously and you shake your head. “It’s literally my favorite song, how do you not know this?”
“When did it come out?” you ask, and watch him look up as he starts to think.
“Must’ve been… right after graduation, I think?” He does the math for a moment longer before answering with the year it was released. The answer has you fighting back a giggle as you stare at him awkwardly.
“Frank, I wasn’t born until two years later,” you answer honestly, and the look on his face is priceless.
“Jesus Christ…” he replies, dragging his hand down his face. You begin to worry now, wondering if you shouldn’t have brought up that point. He must’ve caught a glance at your anxious frown because he’s quick to explain himself.
“You’re fine just… my back hurt when you said that.” His hand comes to the back of his neck to emphasize his point and your smile finds its way back to your lips.
Despite the initial embarrassment you ran into after being reminded again of the gap in age between you and Frank, you found yourself really enjoying the song. He was honest when he said it was one of his favorites. You’ve never seen him this lively before and you love being able to soak up every minute of it. He’s so animated as he dances, holding you close to him with his hand secured at your back. The lines to the song fall past his lips like muscle memory as his forehead presses to yours.
You can’t stand being this close to him. Your whole body feels like it’s been shot with a current of electricity and you’re desperately wanting him to stop singing and put his mouth to yours. He might have a sixth sense—or simply just picked up on the timing—because his lips are on yours a second later. He kisses you deeply, his tongue brushing your lower lip for a moment before you eagerly let him in. Your head tilts to the side as you kiss him back and your arm wraps around his wide shoulders to ensure you’ll have your fill.
All too soon he’s breaking the kiss and you immediately suck your bottom lip behind your teeth to savor the feeling of him. He suddenly lifts his arm into the air and cues you to spin. You twirl under his hand with a huge grin and then he yanks you in for the finish, timing it so that your back is to his chest when you land against him. His same palm immediately finds your hip and tightens to keep you flush to him. His opposite hand travels down the length of your torso, his index finger tracing your side as he moves.
He begins to whisper the lyrics against your ear and you can’t bring yourself to focus on their meaning. He’s all over you and it’s making you feel dizzy, as if you’re drunk on his scent alone. Each pass of his finger along your ribs alights a fire at your side and you try to keep up as he begins rocking you from side to side to the rhythm of the song. His breath warms the entire side of your face and neck with each word he whispers. You fall under his spell and roll your head to the side at the feeling of his warmth all over.
When the song starts to fade and a new one begins overlapping it, you’re left with a bittersweet feeling; part of you never wanted to leave that moment and would gladly listen to that song on loop for the rest of your life, but the other half of you was almost frightened at how easily you turned to putty in his hands. You felt the need to have a better grasp on yourself, especially if you wanted to stay courageous for what you had planned for tonight.
The mix of two songs smoothen down into one and you instantly recognize the slow, sexy bassline that’s pumping through the speakers overhead. You’re not sure what came over you. Perhaps you wanted to prove to someone that you’re not that same timid, little girl. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins, you’re thankful that it gave you the strength to grab his large palm and put it back into place at your hip. You use the extra support to push your ass back into him, making sure to press hard enough until you feel the bulge in his jeans.
Frank doesn’t show any reaction except for his fingers tightening into your skin as if you were a lifeline. You smile as you continue to grind into him, your hips following the similar movements he taught you just a few days prior. Facing away from him gives you the extra boost of confidence needed to perform this act, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t kill to see the look on his face right now.
With each push of your ass against the denim fabric, you feel the heat of his bulge so close to where your own warmth had started to pool. This felt good and you felt pride surging through your chest once you realized exactly what you were doing.
And then his arm crosses your chest and pulls you flat against him once more. His forearm is pressed against your collarbones and you feel your breath hitch at the hold he has you in. With a shaky inhale, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wait for him to speak.
“Look at you, sweetheart,” the tip of his nose brushes the curve of your ear and you try your damndest to not let your body double over. “Someone’s getting confident, huh?” His arm begins to slowly drop from across your chest, and instead reaches your lower stomach. From there, he applies pressure until you’re as close as you could be to him.
“You feel that? Hmm?” There’s an undeniable hardness under the thick layers of fabric. It doesn't feel as big as the last time he got turned on from you, but it’s still noticeable. “That’s all you,” he finishes with a lower tone of voice before taking half a step back and leaving you to sit with his words.
It takes you a moment to wrap your head around this entire situation. It’s abundantly clear that the mood has changed from light laughter and awful dance moves to something more sultry. You can feel the warmth slowly spreading between your legs and it leaves you with a buzz that makes you feel like your movements are slowed. When you turn around to finally face him, he’s already staring down at you expectedly.
“Why don’t we get outta here?” he asks, deep voice blending in with the booming bass. You nod at him and it feels like you’re moving in molasses. The dull, blue light from above catches his face for a moment. There’s something deeper to his unreadable expression; his jaw is clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back.
Once the two of you make it back to the table, Frank reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbs through the notes before tossing a few bills onto the table. He reaches into the booth seat for his jacket and shakes it out before draping it over your shoulders.
“Thank you,” you mumble in a quiet voice.
“Don’t gotta thank me for that, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, insisting that your gratitude isn’t needed. He begins to walk towards the door with his hand in its designated spot at your lower back to help guide you once again. The chill of the night air hits you the second you step out of the building and you find yourself curling his jacket snugger around your body. His scent is stuck to the collar and it helps lessen your shivering from the cold breeze.
He walks you to your side of the van and opens the door for you to climb in. Even after he gets in and begins driving down the same winding roads, there’s not much conversation between the two of you. The tension in the car is thick and incredibly palpable. You’re indecisive about whether to break the silence or leave it untouched so as to not make it worse.
Eventually Frank pulls into his parking spot that faces the front door of his apartment. After putting the van in park and walking around to open your door once more, you take his hand and carefully step down. He unlocks the door and gets you inside quickly, trying to shield you from the chilly air. Once he flicks the lights on, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of his living room and feel that desire to touch him creep back in. Your name falls from his lips and you turn your head at the sound.
“I’m sorry if I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have—,” he begins to apologize, but you’re quick to interrupt by pressing your lips to his. A surprised grunt comes from him and you smirk into the kiss, pleased to have caught him off guard. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and begins leading you towards the couch. When you feel the back of your knees hit the curve of the cushion, you angle yourself in front of Frank and push him into the sofa below.
He looks up at you with his lips parted and his chest is noticeably bringing in deeper breaths each time he inhales. His usually soft, brown eyes have a darkened glint to them and you’re certain you’ve never seen this emotion on him before. Your pulse is racing through your own body and you swiftly straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.
His impatient fingers grab hold of you in a way no one ever has before. The action causes a surprised gasp to fall past your lips, but it’s swallowed down by Frank who can’t seem to keep his mouth off of yours. The light stubble decorating his jaw scratches at your skin and the rough feeling does nothing but spur you on further. You begin to roll your hips into his as you fall into a familiar pattern and he uses his hold to help guide you into moving faster.
His movements are rushed and needy and it makes you feel reassured that he wants this—he wants you. That little boost to your ego has your hands tracing down his body, your palms rubbing down his strong chest, before finally reaching his belt. Your fingers search blindly for the leather and the sound of the buckle clinking sounds out in between the wet noises of your kisses.
“Woah, easy,” Frank breaks the kiss the second the sound reaches his ears. “Let’s just, uh…” he trails off and you feel his fingers gently prying yours away. “Let’s take it slow, alright?” His tone is so soft and the concern is written clearly across his features.
“Frank, please,” you try to reason with him. “I didn’t even drink tonight! And I just… last time I was all worked up and I really want to do this.” You finish with a pout as you glance up at him with pleading eyes. He swallows hard as he stares at you for a moment, probably battling something internally.
“What do you wanna do?” he asks slowly, trying to make his words clear. The question is so simple but admitting it to him makes you feel small again.
“I… I want to touch you,” you mumble, silently hoping he doesn’t ask you to be more explicit than that.
“You sure you want this?” His eyes never leave yours as he confirms your consent.
“I really do,” you reply, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin and watch as he begins to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. “Please?”
You’re not sure if it’s the quiet plea, his own craving that’s swaying his decision, or some combination of the two, but he slowly uncurls his fingers from your wrist. You beam brightly at him and whisper a thanks as you peck him on the cheek.
“You’re still gonna have to walk me through it, Frank,” you say through a small chuckle.
He nods with an equally quiet, “I know.”
From there, he doesn’t try to deter your movements any longer. He lets you continue as you slide his belt past the metal buckle. You look up at him for reassurance and he nods his head with a smile. He takes your hand in his and pulls it to his bulge, letting you feel it properly for the first time. Excitement races through you and settles in your lower stomach as you watch your hand touch him over the denim.
“Can I take your jeans off?” Your question is met with another nod as he lets go of you. Slipping the button past the slit, you then lower the zipper past the teeth and the sound feels so loud in the otherwise silent room. You move to sit beside him and Frank helps you tug his pants down, raising his hips to lower them some more until they fall past his knees. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and your eyes linger far too long on how they hug his thighs.
The thick outline stretching the fabric is enough to recenter your attention though. You start to feel the nerves coming back once you register just how big he is as he lies against his hip. You always had a feeling, given the sheer size of the man, but seeing it is a whole other experience. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t rush you as he lets you take this all in. You hesitantly move your hand over the length of him, brushing your fingers over the defined line underneath the head of his cock.
The next thing you reach for is the waistband of his boxers. You curl your fingers over the edge and tug them down, watching as more and more of his happy trail becomes exposed. He once again helps you pull them past his legs and now that he’s bare in front of you, you can’t help your eyes from widening. You had thought the bulge was big, but it was misleading; Frank is actually much larger than you had anticipated.
“What? You’ve never seen—?” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.
“I have. I’ve seen, like, porn before but…” you find your voice leaving you as you stare between his legs. “It’s just bigger in person.” His chuckle sounds out and you raise your head to the noise only to be met by an amused smirk at your confession.
“S’not just cause it’s in person, kid,” he laughs through his words and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. You like that you can still crack jokes during a time like this and you find yourself thankful that you get to have Frank as your first introduction to sex. Feeling more relaxed, you reach forward and gently curl your fingers around his thick base.
“You can hold it tighter than that,” he speaks up after a second.
“I know,” you respond, tightening your hold on him a little more. He snorts lightly at the, apparently, subtle increase in pressure and you feel his larger hand curling around your own. His long fingers squeeze over yours, adjusting your grip on his length as he begins to move your hand up and down. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, two things you hadn’t given much thought of before now. Frank lifts your hand once more and a satisfied sigh leaves him.
The sound stirs something in your stomach and you try to swallow down your own growing arousal at the noise he’s making. He loosens his hold on you and you watch as his hands find the hem of his shirt before bunching it up and exposing the lower half of his stomach. There’s so much to look at and it’s pulling your attention in too many ways. You try to focus on him in your hand though and begin speeding up your movements.
“You can spit on it,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You turn to face him and feel your eyebrows pull together at his words.
“Like just… spit on it?” The confusion is more than likely obvious in your tone but you want to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself with him. Not now when you’ve made it this far.
“Yeah, go for it,” he encourages gently. With one last glance at him, you lean forward and lower your head over his length. You purse your lips and part them as you let the split slowly drip until it’s sliding over his head. You watch as it runs down past the tip and Frank clears his throat.
“Shit, yeah that…” he trails off as he raises his hips slightly. “That works too.” You smile at his words and wonder if his movement was an instinctual reaction to the warmth running along the smooth skin of his cock.
With the help of the extra slick added to his length, you begin to work your hand faster on him. You know from what you’ve heard that the tip is more sensitive, so you raise your hand right underneath his head and tighten your grip. A grunt immediately falls from him and you impulsively let go of him. You face him with a worried expression and watch as he brings in a deep breath before swallowing thickly.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just felt real damn good.” The praise in his words immediately rushes to your heart and you feel yourself swell with pride. You can’t believe you made him feel that good, but now you’re determined to see what other sounds you can pull from his pretty lips. As you focus your attention back to his cock, you see a few beads of precum beginning to bubble up at his swollen tip. You rub your thumb in circles over the slit, spreading around the proof of his pleasure, and you feel him twitch in your hold.
“Shiiiiiit,” the drawn out curse sounds raspy and you don’t stop your movements as you check once again to see his reaction. Frank’s head is tilted back slightly against the couch cushion, his mouth is parted, and his eyes are scrunched up slightly. You try your hardest to memorize this version of him. You wish you could ingrain this memory so you’ll never forget how good he looks when he’s succumbing to his pleasure.
Twisting your hand as you move it over his length, you notice the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows down presumably another groan. You can’t resist the urge to feel even more of him, and press your lips against his neck. Lazy kisses are littered across his skin while you work your hand faster, intermittently tightening your hold on his thickness. His throat tightens as he feels the wet marks of your affection, and the next thing you feel is his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls gently as he tugs your head up to his and he kisses down your surprised gasp, his tongue slipping into your mouth.
You’re having trouble keeping up with his movements and you realize this must be what it’s like to be kissed breathlessly. Any moment you get, you’re greedily gulping down air before he continues his ravenous attack on your lips. You never slow the speed of your hand and press yourself against his side, trying to feel more of him to satiate your need. Frank tries to break the kiss but you push against him harder, not wanting to let go for a second. But he tries again, grabbing your wrist gently and you immediately pull away with a frown.
“What did I do?” you ask in a worried tone. He’s quick to lock his eyes with yours and speaks clearly.
“You’re okay. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he starts, and then nods down towards his lap. “I’m almost there, kid. Just wanted to warn you before it happens.” And just like that, a wide grin splits across your face. I’m making him feel that good?!
“I really wanna make you come, Frank,” you tell him honestly and you notice his cock twitch slightly as he registers your words.
“You keep talking like that and you will,” he grumbles in a low voice. His tone almost seems as if it was meant as a warning, but all it does is add to the fire in the pit of your stomach. You’re quick to reach for him again and fall back into the rhythm you established just seconds ago. With each pass of your hand you feel the veins protruding slightly through his skin and make sure to add slightly more pressure to the ring underneath his tip—he seemed to like that in particular.
“Just like that—fuck, attagirl,” he breathes through gritted teeth while he stares down at your smaller fingers wrapped snugly around him. The praise courses through you and you hide your face in his neck. You place sloppy kisses under his jaw and listen as more grunts start to fall from his parted lips. They slowly twist into a new sound and it takes you a second to realize it’s your name that’s coming out in a twisted groan. You glance down and watch as he raises his hips for a moment to chase after the feeling of you, his orgasm following soon after.
One long moan falls from him as warmth spills over your hands. You make sure not to miss a single second and don’t dare slow down or pull away. You want Frank to feel as good as possible and so you’ll drag this out for as long as you can. White begins to coat his head and the rest of his length as you continue moving over him. It isn’t until he reaches for your wrist that you take notice of the way his thigh is tense and you let go to give him some relief.
“T…That’s enough,” he pants as he speaks through uneven breathing. You mumble an apology as you snuggle into his side again, leaving the remainder of your kisses on his collarbone. His hand rubs at your back while he regains his breath and you feel him press his lips to your forehead. 
“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you follow his gaze to the mess in his lap. His cock lies on his hip, all spent and giving a weak twitch once or twice. You don’t even try to hide the smile that grows on your face at the sight.
“Oh, you proud of yourself, huh?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. “You should be,” he holds you to his side again. “Did so fuckin’ good.” You feel another long kiss to the side of your head. Pride isn’t even a strong enough word to describe how you feel at this moment.
“Thank you, Frank,” you smile up at him.
“Thank me? Nah, you did all that,” he brushes it off just like last time. “Thank you for making me feel good, kid. You were absolutely perfect.” The warmth spreading to your cheeks makes you hide your face in his chest again. You weren’t really sure how a scene like this was supposed to normally end, but Frank doesn’t say anything more. He keeps you close in his arms and you can still hear his pulse attempting to slow in his chest. For now, you don’t want to question what comes next; for once, you’re comfortable exactly where you are.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @chellestrash @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl @xxdrixx @yaminax @nabiiturner @imwaytoolazyforthis @vechkinfan @himesuedi @0-goblin-0 @soleilcastle @innebulae @punishersmainchick @eddiemunsonsbelover @tea-drinking-nerd
636 notes · View notes
waterfae · 1 month ago
Text
Kill My Lord Husband [Part 3]
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: Your father has decided to marry you off – and to a Blackwood no less! But you want nothing to do with the famously known Bloody Ben, not when your heart already belongs to another. Your solution? Kill your lord husband.
Pairings: Benjicot “Davos��� Blackwood x Reader, Aeron Bracken x Reader
Warnings: canon-typical violence, adult language, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, arranged marriage, house-neutral fem!reader, no use of Y/N, absolute nonsense, no beta
this chapter contains a fight scene and mentions of blood
Word Count: 2.8+ K
Part: 1 | 2 | 3
Tumblr media
Aeron’s words kept you up all night. You stared blankly up at the canopy of your four-poster bed as they circulated about your head like a fly that refused to leave no matter how many times you tried to swat it away.
Meet me by the Whispering Woods. Just outside of Mudgrave Market and pass the Widow’s Wash.
That’s all the message said. There was no flowery prose filled with apologies, grandiose love declarations, or a promise to take you away from all of this. Instructions. That’s all it was. He hadn’t even signed it. Yet, you were still overcome by the mere sight of his handwriting, satisfied to have received something – anything – from your beloved. Some semblance that you were still in his thoughts. Were you truly so desperate? You asked yourself as you gripped onto your sheets.
Yes, you decided, you were. Despite the fury that followed your tears once they were all shed – fury at his delayed response and fury at his audacity to dare request your audience after what that delay had put you through – the desire to see him was still there and it held steadfast. You wanted so badly to hold him, kiss him, and knock sense into that blonde little head of his – figuratively and literally. So, you chose to oblige.
Tumblr media
You requested the wheelhouse from your father early the following morning after breaking your fast.
“Whatever for, sweet girl?” He asked as the pair of you walked through the halls.
“I wish to visit the nearby market.” You answered, trying your best to contain your nerves, “This will be my new home after all. A bit of exploration isn’t too much to ask, is it?”
“Hm…” He nodded contemplatively.
“Who knows,” You decided to add, hoping your next words would push him into agreement, “I might find something I could use for the wedding.”
Your father immediately perked up at the mention of your wedding. Oblivious to your hesitancy towards it and happy that you appeared to be taking your betrothal so well, he decided to grant your request, but not before adding, “You should have Benjicot accompany you.”
Your face fell and eyes bulged at his suggestion. Benjicot was the last person you needed to accompany you on this particular errand, so you quickly countered, “Is he not training this morning?” You paused, feet coming to a halt, “I would hate to interrupt.” You turned to face your father, a teasing – and fraudulent – smile on your features, “Besides, my future lord husband is a fighter. I doubt he would be of any help. Unless, of course, I were trying to procure weaponry.” You eyed his amused look before continuing, “No. What I need is the keen eye of a woman for something much more elegant. Atlanna will join me.”
It was all your father needed to hear. For when it came to you, Atlanna was one of the few people in all of Westeros that he could trust. With a kiss upon your cheek, he bid you safe travels and enjoyment during your trip to Mudgrave. You and Atlanna took off for the market town not long after, keen to get to the designated meeting place as quickly as possible. You couldn’t bare to waste even a second; you planned to squeeze as much time as you could from Aeron. As much as the gods would allow. You figured they at least owed you this.
Once you arrived, the two of you parted ways; Atlanna to the market to pass time and wait for your return and you to the Whispering Woods to meet with your Bracken knight. It remained overcast during your little excursion and you wondered – while you traipsed through mud as you made it across the Widow’s Wash – if rain would ever fall. Atlanna had mentioned a storm brewing during your journey to Raventree Hall. You remembered her words, yet here you were still waiting for one to arrive.
Pass the bank and through a short field, you finally found yourself standing before the chosen site and cautiously entered through the trees. You needn’t venture too far when the sound of rustling came from behind you, which caused you to spin in your boots. Emerging from behind several low-hanging branches was Aeron, clad in his house color of gold with the red stallion imprinted upon his tabard. The moment you recovered from your daze at the sight of him, you immediately ran towards your knight and leaped into his arms, wrapping your own around him and burying your face into his tresses. He tightened his hold on you.
“Reckless fool.” You said through tears and nuzzling your face into his neck, “You’re usually more prudent than this. Crossing onto Blackwood land. And not even disguised!”
“Desperate times, my lady.” He whispered while caressing your hair.
“And yet you waited over a sennight.” You snapped back, untangling yourself from him and lightly striking him in the chest with a loose fist.
“It was not my wish, I assure you.” He said, desperately reaching for you again, “Once news broke of your engagement, my Uncle Amos had me closely watched.” You evaded his grasp as he attempted to explain further, “He knew of my wish to marry you!” That made you pause and you looked at him, heart pounding at his words. His uncle knew? That would mean he had actually spoken to Lord Bracken of his intentions towards you. It just further complicated your feelings, this newfound knowledge, and you weren’t certain if it was happiness or dread that made your heart race; happiness in knowing that his intentions had been true, dread in knowing that in spite of it all, you were betrothed to someone else.
Aeron’s voice cut through your thoughts, “I was only recently able to get away…for a moment.” He reached out to cup your face when you stopped evading him and brought you closer to press his forehead against yours.
“Only a moment?” You questioned, leaning into him, “Are you not here to claim me? To take me away from this place and make me your wife instead?”
He pulled away and looked into your eyes, worry etched on his features, “Do you wish to start a war?”
You shook your head in reply. Of course you didn’t want to start a war, but you also didn’t want this deplorable reality you were currently facing. You clung onto him then, his tabard scrunched up in the tightness of your grip, as you pathetically begged, “Fix this, Aeron.”
“How?”
Defeated, you gave no answer because you didn’t know either. Instead, you voiced what you had been wanting to say to him ever since your father announced your betrothal to the Blackwood heir.
“You should have asked for my hand.”
He did not even attempt to deny his failings, “I should have.”
“I should be marrying you.”
“You should.”
“If you weren’t going to do anything, why even come? Why are you here?”
Your ire had grown. It grew still when your question was met with silence. You stared up at him, searching his face for anything that might give away his thoughts on the matter. He appeared to be searching for an answer himself, so you gave him a few more moments in hope that he would find it. He looked increasingly lost as time passed and when the silence persisted, you felt your resolve wane and loosened your grip. Disappointment settled and took root in your heart. With nothing more to lose, you decided to say one more thing you had long kept within your heart.
“I know your uncle does not approve of me...because of my father’s friendship with the Blackwoods, but you could’ve at least tried to fight for this. For us.”
“It’s not that simple –” He began, but you interrupted him.
“Aeron Bracken, you are a coward.” Your arms dropped to your sides and allowed your eyes to fall away from him. Dejected, you repeated the words, “You’re a coward.” The tears didn’t fall, but they could be heard in your voice.
He called your name then. Once. Then twice. You could hear the pleading in them, but you refused to respond. He still held your face in his hands and that hold became more firm, urging you to face him. Aeron slightly bent at his knees to better level himself to your eyes and get you to look at him. He called your name once more, leaning in closer. You did not look up but instead let your eyelids fall shut. He leaned in further, nearly closing the gap between you two. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. You could almost feel his lips on yours...
And then came the snap of a twig.
The two of you jumped, startled by the intrusion and quickly moved away from each other, but it was too late. You were already seen. Benjicot stood before the two of you with three other Blackwood men behind him, their eyes all on Aeron. You locked eyes with Benjicot when he turned his gaze towards you and were surprised to find that they were not the same stormy ones you were drowning in the day you had arrived. There was something else swirling behind them. It was not just a simple anger, it seemed...unhinged. Your breath caught in your throat once the thought occurred: this was not Benjicot who stood before you. This was Bloody Ben.
“You’re on the wrong side of the boundary stones, Bracken.”
You noticed Aeron’s hand go to the hilt of his sword. Ben must have noticed it as well because he immediately unsheathed his. Without much thought, you moved to stand between him and Aeron, shielding Aeron from his sword. Aeron grabbed onto your arm in protest, trying to pull you behind him, but you refused to budge.
Ben let out a laugh and gestured towards Aeron while addressing his comrades, “Fucking craven needs a woman to interfere with his battles.” They laughed along with him as he turned his attention back to Aeron, “Are you even truly a knight?” He did not give time for him to respond and then he acknowledged you, features turning dark with a frown, “You’re suppose to be at the market with Atlanna, according to your father.” He stepped towards you, arm outstretched with sword still in hand, “Is he the reason for your hesitation?” He used the tip of it to tilt up your chin, “Is he the reason why you’re so angry with the gods?”
You gulped, anxious of what his next actions might be, but you stood your ground, fiercely returning his gaze. You did not satisfy him with an answer. This displeased him even further, his knuckles turning white from gripping onto his weapon so tightly. His eyes darted from you to Aeron for several more moments, then scoffed, “I do not wish for a wife so sullied.” He paused to catch your gaze in scrutiny. You’d expected to see more anger in them, but were stunned to see nothing of the sort. What you saw instead was hurt. “Poisoned by House Bracken.” He added.
Your jaw dropped and let out a gasp. Firstly, at the accusation of somehow being damaged, despite your virtue being completely intact. Such allusions were a disrespect to you and a disrespect to Aeron and you were shocked Ben would say such a thing. And secondly, for the sting you had not expected to feel in your heart upon hearing him echo the words he spoke just last night of the great weirwood tree.
It was Aeron’s turn to unsheathe his sword, offended for you as soon as the words left Ben’s mouth. “How dare you?” He growled, pointing his sword at Ben, “I will not allow you to sully her name with such lies.” Ben’s men soon followed suit, unsheathing and pointing their own swords at Aeron as he continued to defend your honor, regardless of his disadvantage, “Your betrothed is a proper lady. You will respect her.”
Ben smirked, more amused than threatened, “You dare point your sword at me?” He relaxed and brought his sword down to his side as he snickered, then motioned to his men. They lowered their swords and slowly stalked towards you and Aeron. Panic filled you as one of them grabbed onto your arm and began to pull you away. The others disarmed Aeron and with a few blows, brought him to his knees.
“Wait...NO!” You exclaimed, realizing what was happening. You struggled against your captor’s hold, who quickly wrapped his arms around your arms and torso, lifting you slightly to drag you a distance. “Stop it!” You screamed, upon hearing the sound of Aeron’s groans as they began to beat him. “Leave him alone!”
“Don’t worry. We won’t kill him.” Ben assured you in an upbeat manner, as if what was unfolding was a normal, everyday occurrence, “But he does have to be punished for trespassing.” He gave Aeron a swift kick to the stomach.
You continued to cry out, pleading for them to stop their assaults as they took turns punching and kicking at him. The sight of Aeron defenseless and bleeding sent you into a feral frenzy. With adrenaline pumping through your veins, you began to kick and thrash around hoping somehow your actions would lead to your escape.
“Mad bitch.” Ben’s gaurd said through gritted teeth, using every bit of strength to keep you in his clutches.
“LET! ME! GO!” You shouted in between snarls. You kicked your feet up into the air and brought as much force your body could muster, using your weight to swing back down to hopefully flip him over you. It didn’t quite work, but it did manage to force him to readjust his hold, which brought his upper extremities that much closer to your mouth and when the opportunity came, you were able to capture one of his hands between your teeth. You chomped down with all your might causing him to yelp out in pain; it only encouraged you to bite down even harder. He finally let go once you had drawn blood.
Free and with blood smeared across your lips, you let out a battle cry and charged towards Ben. He turned at the sound of your yells, but not fast enough. He caught a quick glance of your bloodied visage before your body collided with his, knocking the wind out of him and sending you both to the muddy floor. There would be no saving you from the mess this time and you honestly didn’t care as the two of you landed with a SPLAT, him on his back and you on top of him. You quickly scrambled to your knees, straddling him and grunting as you tried to pin down his arms.
He laughed.
“This fucking cunt.” You thought as the two of you grappled with each others arms. He was laughing. He found this amusing. It was maddening and angered you further to see his stupid grin on his stupid face. You wanted to be the one to smack it clean off. You continued to wrestle with him, your hair fallen out of its ribbons and your face covered in both blood and mud. He wasn’t even using his full strength and you knew it. He was mocking you.
Eventually, he managed to catch your wrists. With a firm grasp, he was able to pull you towards him, your faces mere inches from each other. He leered up at you, his smile leaving you perturbed. “There you are.” He whispered, licking his lips, “I knew you were still in there somewhere.” The comment caught you off guard, even more so when he repeated your own words from last night, “You and your uncouth behavior.”
You sputtered unintelligible sounds in response and it was enough for him to get the upper hand. He thrust his hips up, causing you to fall forward, and used the momentum to flip your positions. The mud squelched beneath you as he pinned you down. “You are already promised to me.” He said lowly, “Nothing is going to change that, so it’s best you stop fighting it.” He then released you and heaved himself up. He offered assistance with an extended arm, which you swatted away opting to help yourself up, despite being weighed down by your now wet and muddy dress.
Ben turned his attention back to Aeron, picking up his fallen weapon as he strode in his direction. He looked down at the Bracken – who was strewn across the woodsy floor, weak, bloodied, and aching from his beating – with the sword pointed his chest. He spat out a warning, “Do not dare cross the boundary stones again.” He said nothing more and spun on his heel, ready to leave the Whispering Woods behind.
You hastily maneuvered past Ben and dropped down beside Areon, lifting him as carefully as possible and cradled him in your lap. Tears began to fall from your eyes. Tears of anger. Of hatred. You looked up from your knight and stared daggers into the back of your betrothed.
How you longed for literal daggers.
Tumblr media
a/n: I’m on vacation right now and headed for Japan tomorrow, so I apologize if it seemed rushed, especially at the end. I just wanted to get it out before then. This took longer than I initially intended because rather than editing, I ended up practically rewriting the whole chapter. lol. I'm still not completely satisfied with it tbh, but this version was much better. Please enjoy! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡
taglist: @pantheonofbeauty @cregansfourthwife @spicyteaandcrumpets @accidentpronedork @cococrazy18
@witch-moon-babe @a-romantic-twst @flusteredmoonn @nixtape-foryou @flowerprincezz
@trouble-sistar @username199945 @claire-loves-music @lady-dragon-rider @spider-stark
@moonnicole @hardkiddonut @xlittlefiend
133 notes · View notes
papercorgiworld · 6 months ago
Text
A+ for Blaise Zabini
A Blaise Zabini smut
Minimal plot, maximum smut, where you taunt Blaise about having better grades than him but then things escalate. 
Haha when I said that I was back yesterday, I meant it. Apologies for the wait, I hope it’s to your liking. I just love that I'm writing again! So thank you for sending your request. Lots of love and of course happy readings!
Warning: smuttt
— The request —
hi! i really like your writing and i was wondering (if you’re comfortable) if you could write more blaise smut? thanks!
— The writing —
You wave your test results in front of Blaise Zabini as you both leave the classroom. “Hah. Look who is the superior one… again.” With dark eyes Blaise looks at you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he tries to keep his cool. “You got lucky.” He says drily walking past you in the hallway. “It was a test. It has nothing to do with luck. You either know your material and pass as gracefully as I did or you, you know-” “What?” Blaise snaps and turns around. His friends raise their eyebrows but don’t stay to watch to show. Suddenly it’s just you and a very pissed off Blaise Zabini. 
Honestly, you knew you kind’ve had it coming, but you also weren’t sorry. Him and his little group could be so annoying and getting back at him, pissing him off, was just so funny that you couldn’t resist. “Lost your tongue there?’ Blaise smirks at your delayed response. “No.” You say, but you fail to come up with anything sassy. You blame his closeness, his handsome figure towering over you. He snorts and before you realise it snatches your test from your hands. "Really impressive.” He mocks as he pretends to check your answers, but also keeping it out of reach for you. “Give it back. If you want grades as good as mine then start studying instead of stealing my test.” 
“I have better grades in every class. This one little stupid test doesn’t matter.” He waves the paper in front of you and you grab it, but because Blaise doesn’t let go of it, it tears. “Merlin!” You yell and Blaise just snorts. “Your own fault.” Your eyes widen. “My fault?” You reach for your wand and Blaise’s eyes fill with panic. He quickly shoots to you and grabs your hand, pointing your wand up to the ceiling and away from his pretty face. Now, close together, he meets your eyes. “Let’s not do anything stupid. This could seriously get you in trouble.” Your eyes are still filled with rage as he says those words. “Like you care, you only want to save your own skin.” 
“If you were as good looking as me, you would understand.” Blaise plays and you roll your eyes, but the anger subsides as you realise that an easy spell can fix your torn test and won’t get you detention. “Let go of me Blaise.” You say, sounding annoyed but calmer. “Promise not to hex me.” He whispers, his lips moving closer to your ear, making you look up at him in curiosity. You notice a sparkle in his eyes, something you’d never seen before. There was something playful in the always so reserved slytherin. 
There’s this moment of intense silence as the air between you two fills with sexual tension. “Blaise-” You breathe out not really knowing what you wanted to say or what you wanted from him. Blaise’s eyes move to your lips still parted from saying his name a second ago. A breathy sound escapes Blaise as he pushes you against the wall. One arm resting next to your head, while his other hand keeps your hip pinned against the wall. You lean your head back against the wall as a silent way of surrendering to what is about to happen. His lips hungrily crash on to ours.  
He pushes his whole body against yours and you feel overwhelmed with sensation as his warmth fills you with lust. His hand moves to open the door of the broom closet right next to you. “We are not doing this.” You state with a soft voice and your stern eyes meet his. “No?” He asks with a raised eyebrow, not convinced by your weak protest. Merlin, this man is attractive. Like he can read your thoughts he smirks and moves a hand to gently squeeze your ass, making you jump a little and allowing him to pick you up. You wrap your legs around him as he walks you into the small space to push you against a wall and kiss you passionately. With one flick of your wand you lock the door and he genuinely looks impressed by your quick thinking and use of magic. 
His lips hover over yours. “You’re far from innocent.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.” You demand, moving a hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. To your disappointment he’s quick to move away from your lips. “I had something else in mind.” You frown for a moment and are little concerned over his smug smile. Blaise finds your confusion both adorable and amusing and he slowly and teasingly moves to his knees, making you throw your head back in realisation. 
His fingers tenderly move up your thighs as he places soft kisses while pushing up your skirt. Your breath hitches as he lowers your panties and continues to kiss you. He wraps his arm around your leg pushing one leg over his shoulder, making you whimper in anticipation. “Please.” You manage to say, swallowing your pride and urging him to give your pussy some much needed attention. Instead of gloating in your desperation for him, Blaise is more than happy to be a gentleman and take care of the lady in front of him.
He grips your hips and passionately sucks and licks at your sensitive spot, making your breath go unsteady as you try to keep yourself from moaning loudly. After a moment of trying to keep composure you fully surrender to him, allowing yourself to rest on his strong shoulder and sinking your cunt onto him. He's pleased to have you all to him and feels himself get harder as you struggle to keep quiet. You gently buck your hips as you feel yourself get closer and his fingers dig into your skin as a response to your neediness. “It’s okay, pretty girl, just relax.” Blaise almost moans against your pussy and you cling to the shelves behind you for support as you moan his name louder and hornier than intended. While you feel your climax rush through you, Blaise feels himself get painfully hard. The sound of his name coming out of your mouth in such a filthy way did things to him and the way he got to taste you almost made his mind go blank. He wanted and needed that moment to last forever, but it didn’t. You went quiet again as you came down from your high. 
However, Blaise was eager to relive that moment and wasted no time getting up and meeting your lips. Your hand moves to the back of his head as you meet his passion in the kiss. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” Blaise breathes in between kisses and before you can respond he continues. “So fucking gorgeous.” His lips move away from yours so he can take in your figure for a moment before kissing you sloppily. “You haven’t seen the best part yet.” You tease and push him away to undo the buttons of your shirt. His eyes are glued to your fingers working those buttons and you love how hooked he is. “Hey Zabini, this isn’t a one man show.” You play and tug his shirt. As you slip down your shirt he quickly pulls his over his head, before slamming his body against yours again, like magnets that pull towards each other. He admires your lingerie for a moment before quickly undoing your bra, while you work his belt. His pants drop to the ground and he tugs your skirt until it also slips down. In love with your breasts Blaise gently cups them, massaging them while kissing you hungrily.
He slips two fingers through your folds, making you moan and part your lips so he can sneak his tongue in and kiss you roughly, silencing your moans as his fingers stretch your pussy. Once you’re throbbing and soaking wet for him, he pulls his fingers away making you cling to him as he teases your sensitive cunt with his precum soaked member. He enters you slowly but pushes deep, his eyes never leaving your glassy ones as he fills you with his length. He cups your cheek and kisses you. “So good.” He breathes with a husky voice, trying not to moan as he feels like he could climax just because this intimate moment felt so good. He manages to give you one more sweet but sloppy kiss before hiding his face in the crook of your neck and fucking you at an amazingly steady pace, hitting you right every fucking time and making your mind go hazy with pleasure. It was like he was on a mission to make you see stars and you cling to him, nails digging into his skin, like he was the only thing on this earth. Pornographic moans slip out of your mouth and Blaise can no longer keep himself quiet as you both close in on your orgasm. 
Blaise’s animalistic grunts and moans fill your ears as your legs tremble in his hands and your second orgasm hits you, making you softly dig your teeth into Blaise’s shoulder to keep yourself from moaning his name too loud. With sloppily moves Blaise works your sensitive pussy until he cums. Panting, he presses his forehead against yours. His high is keeping him from saying anything, but his dreamy look says it all and you steal a tender kiss from him, making him smile like an idiot. “If this were a test I would say you passed with flying colours, A+ for Blaise Zabini.” A soft and exhausted chuckle escapes Blaise. This one really is something.
Word count: 1606
163 notes · View notes
undeadcannibal · 1 year ago
Note
Hello i saw you were taking requests and i want to ask if you could do Alejandro and König being jealous because Graves is flirting with there s/o and she's clearly uncomfortable with it but they gets jealous anyway and decides to make sure she knows who she belongs to.
Only if you're up for it.
Have a good day :)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: How Alejandro and König would react to Graves hitting on you and becoming jealous as a result.
Genre: Imagines, request(s) Characters featured: Alejandro, König.
Warnings: suggestive situations, spanking, and mention(s) of jealousy
A/N: So, at first, I nearly made this a poly scenario but rewrote it because I was almost certain that isn’t what you were asking for lol. I hope this suffices, and I apologize for the delay on my end OTL ( Gif credit: xxx )
Tumblr media
"C'mon now, girl."
Graves stepped in front of you, blocking your path as well as preventing you from leaving the conversation. Staring down at you with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Let's say after all this bullshit is said and done, you let me take you out dinner. What do you say?
While you didn't let it show on your face, the thought of going on a date with Graves was off putting to say the least. He was too cocky in all the wrong ways -- and there was something else off about him you couldn't quite pin-point yet, but that underlying suspicion was there, always prickling away at the back of your mind. Maybe it was you were just being paranoid, but still. When it came down to it, you didn't find yourself drawn to him in any sort of way.
You still had to work with the man though, so instead of being honest with him, you offered him a practiced smile. One perfected over years of awkward interactions just like this one.
"As nice as that sounds, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."
"Yeah? And why's that, sweetheart?"
Figures he was the type that didn't know when to back down...
At that point, you'd crossed your arms over your chest. Physically attempting to close yourself off from him even further. You hesitated in coming up with an answer to that question. It wasn't exactly like you could confess you were in a relationship with a Colonel.
"I'm already in a committed relationship, sorry, Graves."
Why the fuck were you apologizing to him?
Alejandro―
As you were busy trying to anticipate Graves' reaction, you hadn't noticed that Alejandro had seen the entire interaction between the two of you. Especially noting the way you tensed up when speaking to Phillip.
Even though he knew better than to storm over and cause a scene -- he felt the urge rising within him regardless. He wanted to walk over there and ask him what the fuck he was doing to you that had you so uncomfortable.
Somehow, he'd managed to hold off just long enough for the interaction between the two of you to come to an end. Whatever you'd said to the Shadow Company CEO had sent him off with his tail between his legs.
Good.
He couldn't help but curse to himself in Spanish as he watched Graves leave the rec room. Once he was gone though, he didn't waste any more time in heading over to you. Silently gesturing for the two of you to have a private conversation elsewhere.
Shortly after the two of you had some privacy, Alejandro was stepping closer to you, looking you over with concern. "Are you okay?" He asks.
You nod. "Yeah, yeah." Offering him a small smile, you shrug a single shoulder. "He asked me if I was interested in going out with him. Mentioned something about knowing where to find him if I was ever interested in going out with a "real man"." You answered him, exaggerating Graves' words by giving air quotations with your fingers.
"Pinche cabrón." Alejandro could feel his jaw tense while he grit his teeth. Looking off to the side with a murderous glare. The fucking nerve he had to say such a thing to you!
Oh, if he ever had a chance to get his hands on that gringo...
Once his anger subsides, jealously takes its place. He knows he has nothing to worry about with your relationship. It's stable and healthy enough to the point he doesn't feel worried in the slightest that you'd cheat on him. However, knowing that Graves is so interested in you to the point he'd made a move, that had him feeling so conflicted.
Part of him knew it would be better than to let it go altogether and not worry about it for a moment longer. But, despite his intelligence and trust, Alejandro was still a man. He felt things that he probably shouldn't at times, and mostly knew how to deal with it.
This time... wasn't going to be one of those. He could feel it in his bones. Knew himself better than to just expect himself to forgive and forget Graves. He figured if he couldn't settle things physically like his instincts wanted to, he'd do the next best thing.
Staking his claim on you.
Sure, he knew he couldn't outright stake his claim on you and declare you as his own -- both out of respect of you as a person with your own feelings and independence, but also due to the trouble the two of you could get it in. That wasn't going to stop him from trying another way.
Glancing around to make sure the two of you were alone, he reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist. Leading you off to a corner of the hallway you two were in.
"Alejandro, what are you--"
You couldn't even finish your sentence before he was caging you in with his larger body. Leaning down so he could capture your lips with his own in a searing kiss that lasted only moments before he was pulling away. Already beginning a steady decline down to your throat with his lips, giving fleeting pecks and nips of his teeth wherever he could reach.
When he found a particular spot he enjoyed, he'd pause and seal his lips around the skin there. Sucking and biting at it over and over until he was satisfied with the marking that'd bloomed as a result.
Regardless of the sounds you made or how hard you clung and pulled on him, Alejandro didn't stop until he felt you had enough marks on you. Dark hickeys littering your throat all the way from your clavicle to just below your jawline.
"Apologies, mi amor." Alejandro smirked. "Let's just say I needed to make sure that bastard knew you were spoken for."
König―
The moment König saw Phillip Graves walk up to you, he was thankful for the fact that he preferred to obscure his face with his facial covering. He could feel his expression twisting with confusion and anger as he watched the other man clearly approach you with romantic intent. König might have spent most of his social life crippled thanks to his social anxiety, but even he could tell the intent behind men's interactions. Or, at least men similar to Graves anyway.
Fingers tightening at his side for a brief moment, he'd stand at his full height, appearing as menacing as ever as he tried to focus on the clipboard in front of him. Though, he found it nearly impossible thanks to the current interaction between you and Graves.
König wasn't a foolish man. He knew better than to let him emotions get the better of him and have his personal insecurities convince him of anything but the truth. You were kind, faithful, and honest with him in your relationship together. He knew you wouldn't throw yourself at Graves' feet simply because he paid you special attention.
Even so, it seemed despite all of his reasoning and rationality, he found a spark of jealously blooming within him. Burning right at the center of his chest so much he felt it difficult to breathe. Still, regardless of how he felt at the moment, he didn't storm over. The Colonel knew better than to make such a scene over something so juvenile as you being flirted with. Also, it'd probably lead to the two of you having to suffer the consequences of many other things given that - despite you not being apart of his own sector - he still technically was your superior.
König tried to focus his attention back on his paper but found it hard to do so when he caught the American eyeing you like his next meal. Discharge and other consequences be damned. The large Austrian man wanted nothing more than to show the smaller man a piece of his mind. Still, he refrained from giving in and storming over. Instead, he somehow managed to hold himself together until the American left. Seemingly with his tail between his legs from the looks of things.
Not even bothering to finish the forms on his clipboard, König tucked it beneath his arm before walking over towards you.
"Can I have a word with you in my office, please?"
After the two of you were behind closed doors and away from prying eyes, König wasted no time in striding over to you. Surprisingly quickly for someone of his stature but you didn't flinch or back away. Instead, you merely smiled up at him far too sweetly than someone like him ever deserved, he thought.
"Did I do something wrong, Colonel?" You questioned in a soft voice.
"Of course not, maus. And please, use my name for now. Not my title..." Since the two of you began a serious relationship, he couldn't stand when you had to refer to him as anything other than his name. Preferring the way it rolled off your tongue far more than whatever else you could address him as.
Staring down at your smaller form, König suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Many conflicting emotions began to overwhelm him as he debated on what to do now.
"Are you alright?" He asked, concern showing within his bright eyes. "What did he... say to you?" König questioned, a little unsure of how to deal with the predicament.
"Oh," You scoffed and waved you hand in a nonchalant gesture. "He asked if I'd like to go out with him but I declined his offer." You explained.
"Ah, I see." He nodded his head in acknowledgement but truthfully, he wasn't focusing much on your words. Instead, all he could think about was how jealous he felt that the he dared to even approach you in the first place. Sure, the two of you couldn't exactly be very open in the public about your relationship together, but that didn't mean he was just going roll over either.
In fact, he couldn't help but feel a little shameful as his mind went over numerous ideas and scenarios of how things could play out. Imagining many, many ways of which he could show that fool you were already spoken for.
It wasn't often he felt as worked up as he did emotionally, but now that he was, he wanted to do something about it.
"Maybe I need to refresh your memory..." König commented, his demeanor shifting to a stricter one as he straightened his posture, standing at his full height in front of you. Hell, he even decided to lean forward a bit just to loom over your tiny form even further than usual. Taking great pleasure in noticing the way you'd shrink in on yourself a bit from his intimidating leering.
"You're mine and mine alone. Do you understand, liebling?" Reaching out, he gripped your chin between his thumb and fingers so he could tilt your head up, coaxing you to look at him in the process.
Glancing off to the side, König would release your chin and then turn to walk away from you. Heading over to his desk so he could clear the top of it of. After the majority of it was clear, he'd gesture towards it with a nudge of his head. "Over the desk, now."
As tempting as it was to talk back to him, you remained silent and instead nodded in agreement before walking over towards his desk. Bending over the top of it with your chest and stomach pressing down against the top of it. Folding your arms beneath your head, you turned to look over at him. Daring to wiggle your backside at him just to be a tease. Silently, König moved to stand behind you so he could tug down your pants and underwear. Now gazing down at your form with a hungry gleam in his eyes.
Without warning, he lashed out and swatted your right ass cheek. Repeating the action again on the same cheek before delivering a swift and stinging strike to the other shortly after. Internally delighting in the way your skin flushed beneath his hand after each smack. The soft gasps and hisses you released were music to his ears...
"Next time he tries to make a move on you, you won't be able to think of anything else but me and how sore I'm going to make your ass soon enough."
Tumblr media
873 notes · View notes
sweetieyos · 1 year ago
Text
caught (nanami x reader)
hello! this is a continuation of my latest post of nanami x reader, sadly because of my studies, i couldn't post a lot and the draft of this fic got delete :( anyways hope you enjoy it!
• btw, i got this idea from @queen-quintonz who said that would like to see this scenario! so here it is! ♡ (sorry for the late delay lol)
you and nanami have been dating for a while, specifically three months, and it has been the cutest three months you have been because of your spring lover era, but also the most difficult.
you wanted to keep your life private, nanami wanted to keep his life private, so both of you decide to not show too much pda in school or in public areas, instead in his or your dorm.
but because of how weird it would look a guy going to a girl's dorm, or a girl going to a guy's dorm, both of you also decided to keep the high school's forest your place. the forest was big so much that not everyone would look both of you making out or cuddling.
you and nanami wanted privacy and intimacy, only that, but it looks that even in the forest you couldn't get that...
the first time you got caught, it was when haibara was looking for nanami to give him back the 110 yen nanami once gave him so he could get a soda. haibara went into nanami's dorm but he wasn't there, so he decided to get a walk until nanami returned.
haibara then found himself in the forest and he got attracted by some voices, when he got near, he found you and your boyfriend cuddling and giggling. haibara stared in awe and gasped when you and nanami kissed. then haibara appeared out of nowhere scaring both of you.
'OMG! YOU TWO ARE SO CUTE! YOU REALLY MAKE A GREAT COUPLE! CAN I GET AN INVITATION TO THE WEDDIN-'
haibara got cut in mid of sentence by a punch that nanami gave him in the stomach ending in haibara being tracked down, nanami said he got scared and didn't know who was, and also because of the annoying screaming. as an apology, nanami asked haibara to keep the 110 yen which haibara accepted, and also taking him with shoko. you talked seriously with nanami that day.
'nami, first of all, you really need to control your anger issues- you just can't punch anyone just like that! specially to your best friend! i understand you got scared but still. and also, we need to be careful if someone is near of us, so we can avoid that conflict again'
your 'nami' accepts and he started to be more relaxed than before (i hc that he was aggresive) but also to be more careful with you if someone see.
again, not everything went well... nanami was decoring your hair with some little flowers he saw and he was dying of how cute you were, so he decides to some pictures of you with a camera he brought, all the photos well went, you looked beautiful until a white-haired appeared in the pictures.
'oi, suguru, look at the lovebirds! they aren't cute?'
you and your boyfriend scoffed at that and geto told gojo to be more polite with the couple since love is something everybody needs.
gojo made an 'eh?' sound and answer in a very sour mood 'love? important you said? what are you? a philosopher?'
geto gave him a dirty look and a lecture on how to be more educated toward people meanwhile he was getting ready for the 'satosugu fight of the week'.
fastly, you and your boyfriend ran away from the scene before director yaga or someone else see, you don't want to get caught with the rat from shrek and his moralist boyfriend.
another failed date in the forest but you got flowers and hey! gojo and geto got grounded for their mischief. but now, you and your boyfriend are the ones who are grounded.
you don't know how it happened and it was embarrassing. just in the time when you and nanami were making out, it was the time were your professor caught you. you didn't see anyone or listen to something! well, you did listen to something just someone clearing his throat, and when you broke the kiss, your dear professor was there.
besides a punishment, you got a lecture in his office about 'couples in high school', 'teenage pregnancy', and 'toxic relationships', and all your classmates got their ears in the door.
'haibara get off!' shoko said
'no! you are the one who need to get off!' gojo answer her
'satoru shut the fuck up!' geto scolded
'ouch! my hair!' haibara whines
by luck for them, they didn't get caught but did hear the reason for the punishment. and before the door went open, the gossipers disappeared and acted as normal.
so, now, you and your boyfriend are taking care of the forest because 'as you like to go so much to go there you need to take care of'.
even though it was nice and you were not alone because of your sweet boyfriend who you can give a kiss when you wanted to, but sadly yaga was watching.
everyone made fun of you and your boyfriend, and that is the reason why the gossipers who were in the door are now helping.
omg this was fun to write even though it was difficult to illustrate a long thought into words :'(
397 notes · View notes
distort-opia · 2 months ago
Note
*bursts through your window at 4AM wearing bloodied Hamlet costume* Hey Tort beloved i got you a whole chicken and an egg for breakfast:
Batman VS. Bruce Wayne— which one, in your opinion, is the person and which one is the persona? Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact? I know different comics and media take complete separate parts of him as what makes him, but which one do you think makes Bruce Wayne who he is at heart?
Tumblr media
Hi! You're not the first person to ask, so I'll put these two together. Thank you for the hearty breakfast and please accept these cakes as apology for how delayed this answer is (you and Anon both).
To be honest, I consider the question of "which one is real, which one is fake" as a bit overdone... and needlessly complicated. Especially because many times when people bring up the debate, they're thinking of "Brucie Wayne" and "Batman", with arguments of Batman being the real personality seemingly always correct and almost obvious. This oversimplifies things, because there's "Brucie Wayne", there's Batman, and then there's just Bruce.
Is the persona of "Brucie Wayne", the ditzy womanizing playboy with half a braincell, fake? Yes, absolutely. That one's a mask which serves the purpose of hiding the existence of Batman. But is that the same as Bruce Wayne, the man we see joke around with Alfred in the Cave, interact honestly with Dick and the Family and Talia and Selina and so many others-- the human underneath Batman? No, it isn't. That Bruce Wayne is very real. And Batman is not a separate persona or a mask, it's just another facet of the same person, borne out of Bruce Wayne's trauma. Batman is so many things... a coping mechanism, a way to commit suicide, the fantasy of who Bruce would like to be; but he's got roots within Bruce to such a fundamental extent that calling him a mask, or a persona, feels wrong to me. Batman is both the worst and the best of Bruce Wayne. There's no separating them... no matter how badly Bruce would like to make it that way.
Because Bruce has struggled (and still does) a lot, both with admitting to himself that there's more to him than the existence of Batman, and with maintaining a balance between the many personas he wears. "Batman is the real one, Bruce Wayne is fake" is something Bruce desperately wanted to believe and make real himself, in multiple stories. This is where this long-standing fandom belief probably stems from: from Bruce having convinced himself that "Bruce Wayne" is dead, and that there isn't anything left to him but Batman. Hell, Bruce has literally tried to "kill" Bruce Wayne and only be Batman in Bruce Wayne, Murderer? and Bruce Wayne, Fugitive; this is probably the story arc that dealt with this divide in Bruce's psyche in the most depth, I absolutely recommend giving it a read.
However, the more important thing is the why. Why this constant struggle? And it's a simple reason... maintaining ties to his humanity versus giving himself over entirely to the Vow. Batman was forged out of Bruce's pain, and is a response to loss. Batman is how Bruce channels his emotions into purpose. Batman will always want to never go through the loss of loved ones again, and the simplest solution to that is to never care again. Never have romantic relationships, maintain a distance from all the people in his life. But humans can't live like that. Bruce can't live like that, he needs grounding by the many relationships he does have, despite how much the side of him that's Batman pulls in the other direction. That's why Bruce Wayne, Fugitive ends like this:
Tumblr media
And the thing is, we keep having the same story, over and over. Bruce nearly being consumed by Batman, and then finding his way back, most of the time with the help of his Family.
Here's another instance:
Tumblr media
Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #140
And another one, which so beautifully illustrates how Batman and Bruce Wayne are the same, but also how Batman contains a suicidal and self-destructive side of Bruce too:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Batman: Ego
(Lol. Yeah this is your life, man.)
But you could find an equal number of examples in which Bruce declares that "Bruce Wayne" is useless and disposable, and that Batman is the only thing that matters (e.g., Robin 1993 #125). Because again, this is comics. There's no finality in sight, no traditional ending that everything we read is heading towards. Bruce will keep doing this dance, will keep having to learn how to balance these two sides of himself. Most recently this happened in Zdarsky's Batman run, with the conflict between Bruce and the Batman of Zur-en-Arrh... but don't even get me started on that utter disappointment.
Actually though, @psalmsofpsychosis, this part of your question is quite interesting: "Realistically, when hell breaks loose on a good god abiding gotham day, which one could Bruce lose and still have his identity remain somewhat intact?" Because there have been times of crisis in which this has happened, in comics. And what Bruce did is probably not what you'd expect. This answer got long enough though, so I'm putting the rest under the cut.
Bruce has gone through a lot. There's been many catastrophic-level events he's dealt with. And at first glance, you'd think that he'd consistently fall back on Batman, if that's who he "really" is. But when his will genuinely breaks, that isn't what always happens. In Batman: Cult, a story that takes place towards the end of Bruce's first decade as Batman, after Jason became Robin, shows that Bruce can give up:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Batman: The Cult
Bruce abandons Gotham, and with it, Batman. Obviously, he eventually comes back. But it had to be Jason dragging him around for half this issue just to make him fight, just to make him function. (Much earlier than this, in Going Sane, he also considered just leaving Batman behind. But that story is deeply intertwined with Joker's identity as much as his, so I'm just mentioning it.)
And then Barbara gets shot, Jason dies, Bane goes after Batman in the Knightfall arc... it's just one thing after the other for the poor guy. Knightfall and its continuations are very extensive and many things happen, but after Bruce's spine is broken, he leaves Jean-Paul Valley in the role of Batman. And even after Bruce's injuries get healed, making a previously proclaimed goal of becoming Batman again much easier, he tells Tim that he doesn't want to come back. That he wants to stay retired, and "rejoin humanity":
Tumblr media
Batman: Knightquest
Tim has to tell him of a crime that Azrael as Batman did, which is impossible to ignore... and Bruce has to confront Jean-Paul and see the truth of him having gone mad himself, before he decides to retrain and "become worthy" of his Batman identity once more.
Then, in a much bigger and well-known storyline that follows the Cataclysm event, Batman disappears for months. No Man's Land starts with a world in which Bruce has been away in Monaco trying to be someone else, instead of in Gotham, being Batman and taking control of the wrecked city which had been abandoned by all. Oh he comes back, but still...
Tumblr media Tumblr media
No Man's Land: Ground Zero
So. Batman isn't his "real" identity, it isn't the core of him. Many times, he's wanted to run away and leave Batman behind, just like in some stories he was ready to completely destroy the "Bruce Wayne" identity and only be Batman. But in times of crisis, he repeatedly tried to leave and find happiness outside of Gotham and carrying the mantle of Batman... without succeeding.
Sometimes, Bruce hates Batman, and tries to run away. And other times, Batman hates Bruce, and tries to destroy him. It's a constant give-and-take, and neither facet of him has managed to succeed so far, because Bruce is Batman. There's no one without the other.
49 notes · View notes
claymoresword · 1 year ago
Text
I Choose Her | Chapter 15
Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader
Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?
Pairing: Hermione x Reader
Wordcount: 4.3k
Warnings: character death, mentions of animal abuse, y/n and hermione are so protective of each other it's sick
Note: Hello! wow this one took forever, I feel bad that I'm always apologizing for delayed updates but oh well here we are :/ this one is more to move the plot forward and I wanted to follow canon in a way that would make sense for this story
anyway, as always thank you so much for the continued support and an even bigger thanks for your patience! crossing my fingers that updates will be more frequent from here on out. that's it, i hope you enjoy this one!
Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Hermione stands over you as you hold out the thick strand of hair, pinched in between your fingers.
Harry and Ron stare at it with bated breaths, the air in between the four of you is still; anticipating.
You didn't have to consider for too long to know it belonged to your mother. You had nearly mistaken it for your own, if it weren't for the grayish undertones, only fully visible when illuminated.
It seems every time you saw your mother, her hair would be a shade lighter. As time did its duty, as the years passed, the older each of you got, the less you resembled the other.
You don't see your mother when you look in the mirror, not anymore.
"Are you sure that's hers?" Ron asks as you rise from your crouching position.
The painful lump in your throat prevents you from answering him.
You swallow thickly.
"I'm sure." You finally say.
Silence once again, as Ron reaches out to carefully pick out the strand, retrieving it from your grip, he drops it into the flask he held in his other hand with even more precision.
The only noise that fills the air is a faint sizzle, as the polyjuice potion consumes its final ingredient.
You feel Hermione move to your side, her fingers curl around your bicep, her other hand firmly intertwines with yours.
"Are you certain we'll be allowed into Bellatrix's vault?" Harry asks, he looks at you expectantly and you grace him with an assured nod.
"I've seen my mother retrieve things for her dozens of times, it'll work." You claim, but Harry's immediate skepticism doesn't evade you, and honestly, you can't hold it against him.
Your plan is far from foolproof. Like many times before the four of you are simply hoping to get by on pure chance and luck.
"How do we know what it is, when we get in her vault? I mean, a Horcrux could be anything." Ron asks, a question you were all wondering.
"I'll know." Harry quips plainly.
You glance at Hermione to shoot her a look before returning your attention back to Harry.
"It's hard to explain but– I'll just know." He adds, and none of you wish to push on the subject further.
════════════════════════════════════════════
You watched as Hermione lifted the flask filled with polyjuice to her lips, but then she pauses. Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself.
"Wait–" You interject, rising from the bed, in three large strides you are standing before your girlfriend.
"Let me drink it." You then place a hand over Hermione's, but she pries it off lightly.
"No, I'll do it." She counters, and you don't attempt to mask your disapproval.
"You can't drink it." Hermione reiterates.
"When we get to Gringotts, it'll appear more believable with you by my side, you know it." She adds, and you hate that Hermione is right.
You sigh.
"Darling, it's too dangerous." You breath out, your hand travels up her forearm, eventually tenderly cupping her face.
Hermione instinctively shuts her eyes at the sensation, she leans into your touch, her muscles no longer tense, her body visibly reacts to your warmth.
"We're all in danger." She finally claims, once your eyes meet again.
"This is the only way. There's another Horcrux hidden in her vault, we just have to find it." Hermione states assuredly but it does nothing to convince you of the plan.
You remain staring at your girlfriend, Hermione always had a way of making your heart feel like it could just implode within your chest.
You are overcome with love, care, and longing, all of these feelings encapsulated in the sheer dread of what's to come, of what might happen.
Hermione finds no trouble in returning your gaze.
This wordless exchange lasts for several seconds until Hermione decides to take advantage of your unmoving state. She leans in, passionately capturing your lips with her own.
Your hands quickly shift to rest on her waist, you then feel Hermione's hand move to the back of your head, pulling you closer.
You are taken aback as she opens her mouth wider, deepening the kiss, soon enough her tongue makes contact with your own.
You have no air left in your lungs, but the last thing you wish to do is pull away.
Hermione lets out a light hum as she presses her body up against yours; her eagerness causes your entire body to tremble, you worry your legs might give out at any moment.
The kiss ends as abruptly as it began.
A sharp gasp leaves Hermione's lips as she takes a step back, as if it proved a real struggle for her to cease the kiss.
Soon a sense of euphoria overcomes your entire being, even if it is fleeting, you feel at peace and it translates into a boyish grin across your face.
Hermione notices, and she has to bite her bottom lip to hide a smile herself.
She places a lingering hand over your chest before shoving you away playfully.
"Go on, wait outside. I'll meet you there." Hermione orders, and you know better than to protest.
════════════════════════════════════════════
You continued to pace back and forth, the usually maddening feeling of sand repeatedly filling your shoes does nothing to distract you.
Trepidation rapidly materializes within you the longer you waited for your girlfriend.
By taking the Polyjuice and assuming your mother's identity, Hermione is putting herself in immense danger, and you are expected to stand by and simply witness it, again.
"It'll be fine." You hear Harry's voice, but you don't acknowledge him.
You can't feel anything beyond the incessant pounding in your head; you possessed barely any strength at all, you mustered just enough to stomach this.
Soon enough, Hermione emerges from the hut and the sight you are met with is unsettling.
The woman standing before you appears to resemble your mother. Wearing the clothes your mother would wear, there was no trace of Hermione, beyond her voice.
Harry and Ron fail to speak alongside your silence. Hermione looks between the three of you impatiently.
"So, how do I look?" She asks, and you can't help but grimace.
"Disturbing." You quip.
Then you had no choice but to look away.
"Come on, let's just get this over with." You release an exasperated breath and Harry emerges next to you with Griphook.
"Griphook you give that to Hermione to hold onto, alright?" The man states, but it mainly sounded like a warning.
The Goblin lets out a subtle gripe as he hesitates, before eventually sheathing the steel into your girlfriend's bag.
"You get us into Bellatrix's vault, and the sword is yours." Harry reassures.
Ron finally takes out his wand so he may alter his own appearance, with a single wave, his hair is inches longer. The beard that appears on his face ages him, and makes him nearly unrecognizable.
"Now remember the plan, I'll be under the cloak with Griphook. Y/n and Hermione you'll try to convince the Goblin to let you through. Ron, you stand back in case anything happens." Harry runs through the plan once more and this time you don't suppress a scoff.
Hermione grabs your arm, wordlessly asking for you to stand down.
"This is a terrible plan." You say it anyway, and Harry doesn't retaliate, instead he nods in agreement.
"I know. But it's still the best one we've got."
════════════════════════════════════════════
You had to remind yourself to breathe as you walked through the doors of Gringotts.
Although certain the anxiety you are feeling at this moment is incomparable to the terror Hermione must be experiencing.
You had to battle every instinct urging you to reach out and hold your girlfriend's hand.
Ron trails closely behind the two of you, Harry and Griphook somewhere close by, hidden by the cloak of invisibility.
You brace yourselves once you get to the podium, a moment passes, but the Goblin on duty fails to acknowledge your presence entirely.
Hermione takes it upon herself to clear her throat.
Still, nothing.
She glances at you for help, and you nod, urging her to speak.
"I wish to enter." Your girlfriend states curtly, her best attempt to appear menacing.
In any other instance you would find it a little humorous, but right now, Hermione's poor imitation only makes you wince.
The Goblin fails to acknowledge either of you still, your patience rapidly thinning out.
"My mother has been sent to clear out Madam Lestrange's vault. I am certain you understand why you mustn't delay us." You say and the creature finally looks up.
His entire demeanor shifts, but it only helped to annoy you further.
"Madam, forgive me I did not realize it was you." Bogrod says, feigned cordiality.
"Of course you may enter.. but first, do you mind presenting your wand?" He adds and there is a pause.
You can sense Hermione's panic, but she tries her best to maintain a composed front.
She folds her arms over her chest.
"I hardly think that's necessary." Hermione states.
"I'm afraid I must insist." The Goblin's grin falters, and you realized you had to quickly step in
"Why?" You say, instinctively stepping forward, partially shielding Hermione with your body.
"New policy, I'm afraid." Bogrod explains, but before you can argue your case, the creature's expression shifts.
Your eyes catch the waft of green smoke seeping into the Goblin's nostrils.
You manage a quick glimpse of what looked like the tip of a wand being retracted, it disappears seemingly into thin air.
Y/n quickly realizes that Harry has sensibly, stepped in before things got ugly.
In an instant, the Goblin changes his tune.
"Very well, Madam, if you will follow me." He says with a dopey smile.
You hear Hermione let out a sigh of relief, you can't help but do the same.
════════════════════════════════════════════
The ride through the dungeons was nothing close to pleasant. The cart transporting you zoomed at an unfathomable speed, the abrupt turns and twists would have made you nauseous, if you weren't feeling sick already.
Hermione continues clutching your hand in hers, tighter than usual, your grip is similar in turn.
Finally, the cart halts, and before you know it, the six of you are free falling dozens of feet.
You reach for your wand in your pocket but Hermione beats you to it.
"Arresto Momentum!" She exclaims, and your bodies hang mid air, inches from the ground. Soon the spell wears off, the six of you fall onto the cold, wet, stone, front first.
"Thank you, Hermione." Harry says, as he helps himself off the ground.
You quickly do the same, rushing over to help your girlfriend up.
Hermione gladly takes your hand, when your eyes meet, you notice her appearance, she is back to her usual self.
The Polyjuice potion had entirely worn off but Bogrod, still under the Imperius curse, is unable to do anything about it.
"Come on, this way." Griphook shouts, he leads the four of you to the vaults.
He navigates the dark cavern with ease, as you try to get your eyes to adjust, a piercing screech fills the air, and it causes both you and Hermione to glance at each other.
You warily follow Griphooks lead, but the sight you're met with when the six of you turn the corner makes your breath catch in your throat.
"That's a Ukrainian Ironbelly–" Ron points out, awe and disbelief you shared.
Then Griphook picks up an object you quickly deduced to be a certain type of bell. As he shakes it, the dragon's screeching intensifies, it flails around as if trying to escape the noise.
It was only then you noticed the thick metal chains around its neck and legs.
"It's been trained to expect pain when it hears this sound." The creature claims and Hermione releases you so she may step forward, following his lead.
She speaks once she is in earshot of the Goblin.
"That's barbaric." Your girlfriend says, a certain tenor to her voice, you knew her well enough to recognize that she was truly indignant.
The dragon's screeching continues as the four of you slip past it.
It only retreats to cowers silently in the corner once the noises from the bell stops.
The vault is now in sight, as the group approaches you can't help but notice that Bogrod has disappeared.
You glance out at where you spotted the Goblin last and sure enough. He was standing in front of the dragon, simply staring at it; the curse has evidently impaired his judgment and all sense of danger.
"Wait– what do we do with him?" You gesture to Bogrod.
Although before anyone can respond, the Ukrainian Ironbelly takes a large step forward, then from its mouth, comes flames, big and blistering enough to turn the entire space scorching hot in an instant.
The once Goblin was now burnt to nothing but ash.
Hermione, Y/n and the boys only manage to stare in utter shock.
"That's unfortunate." Ron finally quips.
"Come on, we don't have much time." Griphook warns, he advances forward and the four of you follow.
As you arrive at the vault, it appears familiar to you, but only distantly.
It was not the vault Snape led you to a few months ago but it appears almost identical.
"Is this where you got the sword?" Hermione asks in a hushed tone, and you quickly shake your head.
"No, the key Snape gave me led to a different vault." You explain, but your girlfriend doesn't say anything, expecting your response.
As the five of you enter Bellatrix's vault, it is worse than you expected.
It is filled with random trinkets, some valuable, some not.
The three of you sport a defeated expression, but Harry was not going to give up so easily.
He steps forward.
"It's in here, I can sense it." He states.
You observe silently as The Chosen One approaches a particular cup, amidst an array of objects that look nearly identical to it.
Soon enough he reaches for it.
Harry holds out the cup, nothing is said, but there is an energy that reverberates through the air.
It's unmistakable. He has a Horcrux in hand.
"Pass me the sword." He extends his arm and Hermione scrambles through her bag, eventually retrieving the steel.
She passes it to Harry, he grips the pommel, but doesn't get the chance to do much else as a noise captures your attention.
Ron knocks over a goblet by accident, instead of breaking as it touches the ground, it only multiplies.
As the duplicate makes contact with another object it does the same thing. Soon objects are spawning at a rapid rate, filling up the already limited vacant space by your feet.
"What's happening?" Hermione exclaims over the loud noise, you instinctively step to her side as she nearly loses her balance.
"It's an enchantment, everything you touch will multiply." The Goblin explains, you aren't given much chance to come up with an escape plan as the objects quickly engulf all five of you.
For what felt like eternity, you fought to keep your head above.
You spot Hermione and Ron doing the same, but you can't see Harry anymore.
Amidst the chaos, somehow, Griphook gets a hold of the Horcrux.
Then, Harry finally emerges from the sea of gold and silver. He frantically looks around, in search of the object, but his attention shifts to the Goblin as he proudly holds up the Horcrux.
"We had a deal, Griphook!" Harry bellows, and the creature only grins, malicious, irritating.
"The cup for the sword!" He strikes up the bargain, and you curse under your breath.
It is getting increasingly difficult to stay afloat, and you watched as Hermione and Ron struggled the same.
Harry begrudgingly hands over the sword, the Goblin then returns the Horcrux back to him.
"I said I'd get you in, I never said anything about getting you out." Griphook quips, he holds his hand up against the door, unlocking it.
Soon the objects begin spilling out of the vault after him but the four of you continue to struggle to make your way to the exit.
If only you could retrieve your wand, you could stop the Goblin from going any further.
"Hermione, can you reach your wand?" You shout, and the struggle in your girlfriend's face is evident.
"I'm trying!" She replies.
After moments of struggle, the four of you miraculously manage to make your way out, but it was too late.
The Goblin is nowhere to be seen.
"Griphook!" Harry calls out in anger, he doesn't expect a reply, and he doesn't receive one.
His voice echoes through the dungeons, and it only works to disturb the dragon ahead.
It lets out another deafening screech.
You approach slowly, in search of the object that you know will subdue the beast, but you can't find it anywhere and you know for certain Griphook is the reason for it.
"The bell- it's gone." You don't try to conceal your distress.
"That foul creature– how are we supposed to get out of here?" Ron curses and you begin looking around for some type of solution, an idea to come to you.
You take an experimental step forward; careful, quiet.
You consider that perhaps, if you moved slowly, the dragon won't react.
However, your theory was quickly proven incorrect as the beast storms towards you within the confines of its chains, soon opening its mouth.
You were only inches away from getting charred alive before Hermione harshly grabbed your arm, yanking you to her side.
The pins you up against the pillar, out of the dragon's sight.
Ron and Harry stood a few paces away, their backs also against the wall.
"What on earth was your plan there?" Hermione hisses, and you are staggered for a moment.
You've never seen her so furious with you.
"I just thought if I moved quietly–" You start, but then another loud noise pierces the atmosphere.
Clearly, your stunt only exacerbated the dragon's already agitated state.
The sounds that follow suggest that the formidable beast was now fighting to be released from its restraints.
"Don't you ever try something like that again–" Hermione warns, her hand still gripping your collar.
You nod apologetically, suddenly you almost feel like a child being reprimanded.
Your girlfriend finally loosens her grip on your shirt.
The beast's actions begin to get larger and louder, in its outrage it clamours at the stone walls, chipping large pieces off.
"What a joke– did we go through all of that just to die in here?" Ron quips.
"We can't apparate.." Your girlfriend mumbles to herself, mentally debating an escape plan.
"Hermione?" Harry asks, it sounds closer to a desperate plea.
You were all stumped, only hoping that the mostly brilliant mind out of the four of you will manage to think of a plan to escape.
Hermione finally looks up at you, and by the look on her face you can tell whatever it might be; she's figured something out.
"I've got an idea, but it's mad." She admits, with a raised voice and truth be told you hated the sound of that.
Harry and Ron stare at her expectantly and you only grow more nervous by the second.
Hermione turns to y/n, you don't speak a word to her but it is not required as she already senses your anxiety, she places a firm hand on your chest right above your heart, you were certain she can feel it pounding against her palm.
"Just trust me." She reassures, too swiftly for your liking, as she completes her sentence she retreats.
You can only anticipate her next move, and it is not one you'd ever expect, in fact it nearly sends you into an early grave.
You watched as Hermione leaped off the balcony, landing on the dragon's back.
"Hermione!" You exclaim.
She struggles to get a grip of the beast for a moment, you are stunned when the dragon stills, it doesn't try to force Hermione off it's back.
"Come on!" Your girlfriend shouts, and you were first to mirror her earlier action. With a single large leap you manage to grab onto the dragon's horns, you pull yourself up, situating yourself behind Hermione.
The dragon reacts the same, but it is too fixated on the chains wrapped around its neck to care.
Soon enough Harry and Ron manage to climb on as well.
There is a point of eery stillness as the dragon seemingly appears too tired to continue fighting.
"Now what?" Harry poses a good question, and you take it upon yourself to fish out your wand.
"Relashio!" In one swift move, you fling the spell, aiming for the dragon's tail.
The beast reacts violently, in the process, the spell breaks the chains tethering it to the ground, finally freeing the beast from its restraints.
"Defodio!" Your girlfriend exclaims as she holds out her own wand, and soon enough, the dragon takes flight, bursting through the ceiling.
In an instant, Gringotts Bank is reduced to fragments of wood, glass and stone as the dragon flees the building, taking the four of you with it.
════════════════════════════════════════════
You have been on dragonback for what felt like hours, however an uncanny feeling of serenity, fills you as the beast flew through the air, past villages and hillsides.
As you approach the vast water, the dragon begins to fly lower; it appears the beast aims to halt its tiresome journey through the city soon.
"We're dropping!" Harry exclaims, panic begins to set in amongst the four of you once again.
"I say we jump!" Ron suggests, but you aren't particularly fond of the idea.
"What?" You bark.
"When?" Hermione chimes in.
"Now!" Harry responds as he lets go, you watched as he falls into the freezing water below.
He is quickly followed by Ron and Hermione, and you let out a groan as you release your grip on the dragon.
"Damn you, Weasley!" You exclaim as you freefall into the lake.
As your body touches the water, it immediately feels like hundreds of blistering hot knives are incessantly puncturing your skin.
It is almost unbearable, but then your head rises to the surface and pure instinct kicks in. The four of you, with some difficulty, eventually manage to swim to shore.
-
Hermione grabs your hand to help you up, in your weakened state you barely manage to climb the cliff.
Harry storms ahead, seemingly unaffected, no doubt driven by pure adrenaline.
"He knows." He blurts out.
"You know who." Harry explains, and Hermione lets go of your hand to catch up to the dark haired man.
"He knows we broke into Gringotts, he knows what we took, and he knows we're hunting Horcruxes." He admits.
"How is it you know?" You ask, jogging slightly to catch up, Ron following closely behind.
"You let him in?" Hermione asks, her tone dissaproving.
"Harry you can't do that–" She says but her bestfriend interrupts.
"Hermione, I can't always help it! Or maybe I can, I don't know." He retaliates.
"Never mind that, what happened?" You interject.
The four of you halt as you get to the top of the cliff.
"Well, he's angry– and scared too." Harry starts, he holds out his hands as Hermione retrieves her bottle of Essence Of Dittany from her bag.
She places a few drops on his palms, doing the same on yours, and then Ron's.
You rub your hands together as Harry continues speaking.
"He knows if we can find and destroy all the Horcruxes, we'll be able to kill him. I reckon he'll do anything to stop that happening." Harry finishes and you scowl at the thought.
Soon, the boys begin stripping so they may change into dry clothes.
Hermione instead retrieves a large blanket from her bag, she drapes it over you, before pulling you close to her body so she may share your warmth.
"There's more– one of them's at Hogwarts." Harry explains.
"What?" Ron says in disbelief and his friend only nods.
"You saw it?" Your girlfriend asks, skeptical.
Harry nods again.
"I saw the castle, and Rowena Ravenclaw. It must have something to do with her, we have to go there now." The Chosen One states, assuredly.
"What? We can't do that, we've got to plan, we've got to figure it out." Hermione counters.
"Hermione when have any of our plans ever actually worked?" Harry recounts, his gaze shifting between y/n, Hermione and Ron.
"We plan, we go there, all hell breaks lose." The dark haired man states, and neither of you have an argument, he was stating the plain truth.
"He's right– just one problem." Ron starts.
"Snape's headmaster now, we can't just walk through the front door."
Then there's a pause.
You can feel Hermione shivering against you, you swiftly wrap an arm around her, an attempt to keep her as close as possible.
"Well, then we'll go to Hogsmeade. To Honeydukes– take the secret passage." Harry offers a solution, and you nod in agreement.
"I think– there's something wrong with him–" He adds, and the three of you wait for Harry to explain.
"In the past, I've always been able to follow his thoughts– now everything just sort of feels disconnected." The dark haired man says, he adjusts the glasses on his face.
"Maybe it's the Horcruxes? Maybe he's growing weaker, maybe he's dying?" Ron suggests but Harry was quick to shake his head.
"No, it's more like he's wounded. If anything he feels more dangerous." Harry states plainly, and now you are shivering for an entirely different reason.
Hermione glances at you, as you exhange a look, you can't help but acknowledge that all too familiar sense of impotence as it looms over all of you.
The uncertainty and impending doom; it feels as though the more Horcruxes you uncover, the more uncertain the end seems.
267 notes · View notes
blacklegsanjiii · 9 months ago
Note
i keep seeing so much content of sanji being raised by a warlord and brought to the meetings and desperately need more abt that. depends on who his parents is, but what are his relationships with the other warlords in one of these aus? how many recognize him, how many are still fond of him, how many turn a blind eye to the boy who used to pester them as a child?
come to think about it- is it possible to have an au where sanji is raised by all of the warlords at once? i have no idea how this would happen, but sanji is just. passed between warlords like a child of divorced parents (fuck he would have to grow up with croc AND mingo oh dear). all of them end up getting attached to him and are conflicted when he becomes a strawhat pirate. his crew mostly just want answers on how all these powerful enemies clearly know their cook, who keeps dodging all their questions cause he doesnt want to face the backlash of the warlords' collective ward becoming an enemy of the wg
So I'm going to answer this ask in two parts because that's so funny. I'm going to skip Donquixote!Sanji just because he has the most interaction and detail in regards to Warlord meetings and Dad!Mihawk never brought Sanji nor did Boa. So unfortunate they don't get time to shine.
1. How the warlords react to a kid being the meetings.
With Fishman!Sanji everyone thinks he's cute and quiet and his snacks are so good. Doffy uses this Sanji to try to sway Crocodile into kidnapping a child with him. Crocodile is just "anything raised by you won't make it to twenty, no." Boa thinks Fishman!Sanji is fine. He thinks she's pretty and says it but Sanji is more interested in the libraries and Marines than anyone there. Crocodile absently pats Sanji as he passes where as Doffy holds him to the sky and Boa is like "ew" for the most part. Gecko Moria is probably disinterested in all of the Sanjis and will avoid him. Perona is interested though and will play with Sanji when she's there too. Mihawk will actually smile at the boy and talk to him about cooking and will bring a bento for the boy sometimes. Kuma doesn't have his humanity so.................................
Croc!Sanji basically says hi to everyone and then reads quietly. Mentions every once in a while how dumb or inefficient something is. If Doffy comes at him he runs for it. The first time Sanji comes to a warlord meeting in a dress or whatever Boa is like "is he making fun of woman?" And Croc is like "my son has no gender" which makes Boa take him shopping properly. Mihawk and Jinbei will leave cook books or something. Perona does Sanji's make up whenever he's in a dress.
Perona stands in for Gecko Moria I feel like. He just seems more interested in zombies than children. Which, I get. Big Sister Perona comes in when she's old enough.
Readmore for divorced polycule parenting. It does get to marineford,
2. The Warlords(Except Kuma, for obvious reasons) all co parent Sanji. Let's start with which warlord finds Sanji!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
I am screaming. OH NO! Mihawk showing up to a warlord meeting, holding a child and apologizing for his delay? Doffy asks what that thing he's holding is and Mihawk is like this my son, Sanji. Everyone is staring at him. Boa asks what the fuck he's doing with a kid.
Mihawk explains he got Sanji and Redleg off a rock and Sanji went with him and the kid is like ten and so small. Doffy somehow cajoles Sanji to be held by him despite his fear and it's like a whole thing and Mihawk is amazed because he's been bitten so hard it draws blood. Everyone is amazed. Crocodile is genuinely concerned about the fucking man holding this kid who is maybe a tenth his size at best. He even gets Sanji calmed down more by moving his coat enough to hide Sanji in it while he holds him.
After the meeting Sanji is properly introduced to all who care, even if Boa is a bit standoffish. Crocodile asks if he'll be a regular attendee to the meetings and Mihawk says yes because he doesn't want to leave Sanji alone on Kuriagana with the humandrills. Jinbei asks Sanji a few questions which they all attentively listen to the answers of. Sanji stutters out about opening a restaurant on the All Blue and being the first to find it.
The next meeting Sanji is gifted cookbooks by the other four warlords and Sanji thanks them quietly with tears in his eyes and ohhh they were not expecting that. Nope.
"What the hell, kid? You can't expect us to believe Mihawk is the first person to be nice to you." Crocodile puffs on his cigar and when Sanji doesn't answer Boa grabs Sanji and holds him for the meeting. Afterwards Doffy uses his strings to take Sanji around. Mihawk is frowning the entire time as Boa tries to turn Doffy to stone and Jinbei tells her not to do that for Sanji's safety. Crocodile manages to lure Doffy back with the promise of a meal.
The next meeting Mihawk has to go on a job that will take a few weeks and he doesn't want to take Sanji so Crocodile offers to take him to Alabasta and return him at the next warlord meeting. So Sanji goes with him and at the next meeting Daz and Bon Clay are there and Bon Clay is explaining to Mihawk and Boa that Sanji isn't just a boy. Boa squeals in delight and after the meeting she and Mihawk take Sanji shopping. Sanji is confused because it was just something he thought he could only do in Alabasta but Mihawk is like "Why would I do anything to stop you from being happy?" And Boa is so happy because she has new little person to spoil with fine dresses and stuff and Mihawk is trying to explain that Sanji is training physically and Boa is like "AND???? LET ME SPOIL THEM MIHAWK!!"
The next time Doffy takes them despite Crocodile and Jinbei saying he shouldn't but Doffy just flips them off and basically kidnaps the kid. Sanji comes back with three carton of cigarettes, fifteen bentos and looks like he hasn't bathed in a week despite Doffy and Sanji saying that they just took a bath. Everyone is looking at Sanji and the cigarettes and Sanji is like "Doffy's family gave them to me as a going away present. Baby 5 kept hitting me."
"You gotta hit her back!"
"That isn't appropriate let alone with their trauma." Jinbei says.
"We'll train them." Boa proclaims proudly.
"Oh no." Mihawk whispers to himself.
Jinbei takes him next because everyone but him is on a job and Sanji is marveling at everything in Fishman island and excitedly tells everyone when the next meeting happens. At this point they all stay after the meetings to hang out with the kid and if they're staying the night to get breakfast together. But it's weird for the marines to see the Warlords, some of the most feared pirates on the seas be sweet to this kid.
Boa gets Sanji last. Sanji comes back with so many dresses and skirts some make up and their hair styled. Doffy picks them up and proclaims them as "Cute" while displaying Sanji to the marines around them. Jinbei laughs in agreement. Mihawk is pinching the bridge of his nose and practicing his breathing techniques. Thus begins the rotation because Sanji is just being passed around by the warlords because they all went to spend time with Sanji equally.
Perona eventually finds out about this but instead spends the weeks Sanji is with Mihawk with them and enjoying her time on Kuriagana. She and Sanji play dress up. Sanji cooks all the time too. Perona talks about zombies and Mihawk listens. They all paint nails and Mihawk says they should be doing this on Amazon Lily and not Kuriagana. Both Sanji and Perona stick their tongues out at the man.
Sanji still has set backs and the warlords will have calls to check in on Sanji. Like it is insane how caring they all are for this kid. Sanji's ptsd with bugs? Doffy has someone whip an anti bug cream. Nightmares? Jinbei will tell him stories and teach him some techniques to calm down. Mihawk explains haki and how to hide and use it to his advantage. Crocodile teaches him all about finances and shit. When Sanji is dysphoric Mama Boa is all about taking them out and spoiling them and just affirming their gender and will let the others know.
Sanji is suddenly calling four men variations of "dad" and Boa is "mom" and being taught multiple different fighting styles, languages, and is working on his haki. And when he starts at the Baratie all the Warlords will come visit him and on his birthday? It's a mad house. It's insane and Zeff, Patty, and Carne are looking at the guy calling five different warlords 'Dad', 'Papa', 'Papi', 'Mama', 'Pops' and just watching them cater to the eggplant as if he's so good and when Sanji tells them Zeff won't let them berate women for incidents with food wastage Doffy brings Baby 5 and Perona to Baratie and Sanji fears for his fucking life because this is a no win situation.
When Sanji joins the Strawhat crew on the phone with Crocodile in Little Garden he disguises his voice to the best of his abilities and it doesn't really fool the man who since he knows what's going thanks to Robin being at Whiskey Peak. Crocodile calls the other parents and is like "Guess what our child is doing" Mihawk mentions he let the greenhaired one live when he was at Baratie. Boa screams that Mihawk is dumb and suddenly everyone on the call is yelling at each other except Jinbei who is laughing his fucking ass off.
In Impel Down Crocodile Jinbei obviously convinces Luffy to get Crocodile out and when they're all at Marineford Jinbei yells to the other warlords that Luffy is Sanji's captain, Ace is Luffy's brother, and Sanji is missing thanks to Kuma. Mihawk asks if that's why Roronoa is at Kuriagana.
"Probably, so change of plans?" Crocodile asks.
"Change of plans." Doffy nods.
"Boa, you do know Luffy is seventeen, correct?" Jinbei asks her and she's frowning.
"No, I don't read the paper."
"WOMAN YOU ARE LITERALLY A QUEEN NOW LET'S DO THIS BEFORE EVERYONE GETS KILLED!" Crocodile yells and suddenly there's two extra warlords helping in the fight and the Marines are like 'fuck' and Ace and Luffy are confused because no one has mentioned this. At all. So the Warlords take over the fight to get the fleet. Jinbei gets Ace and Luffy out and promises to explain when the other's join them even if they're fading in and out from everything that happened and both of them still taking lava punches.
Shanks shows up and ends the war and finds out on the television that five warlords, two of which were in Impel Down started fighting with Luffy to save Ace and he still ends the war. When he asks them about it they just go "He's our child's captain." Shanks and Buggy are blinking at them confused because what the fuck.
101 notes · View notes
vraisetzen · 1 month ago
Note
I do hope no one has asked this anytime recently and I just did not see, but I can't help but be curious about the child situation at the end of Notte Stellata!
Did they actually end up having children? How many did they have and(if you have any ideas)what were the names given? I'm also wondering what their parenting methods/dynamics are. I apologize if this is an odd question, but thank you for reading regardless😅
Hi Anon! Please don't apologise for this question, because it's actually quite interesting! So:
I had half-written a bonus chapter for Notte Stellata that I initially planned to publish in line with the release of the movies, or Kokushibo's first proper appearance (which will come first) — it basically surrounds Kokushibo, the Reader, and their family situation. I kinda delayed finishing it because I was a little burned out from writing in general, but —
As it happened, I've gotten quite a few Asks about this as well — if they had a kid, if they could have kids, etc — and I've been getting back into the spirit of writing, that I can confirm that yes, the chapter will be out by the end of this year (before November, hopefully!). And I hope it helps with answering your first question~
Now, for your second question...
I thought long and hard about the names Kokushibo and the Reader would give their children, as a name nerd myself. Personally, I think the Reader would be quite modern, despite her taste for the classical arts. Michikatsu, on other other hand, as a man from a bygone era, would be a bit rigid when it came to names, preferring a tōriji (generational name) that could represent not only the renewing of the Tsugikuni family, but also a combination of the Reader's and his hopes for their children. This, naturally, led to a disagreement between the both of them
"Kiyo?" Michikatsu asked, looking across the Gō board as his hand hovered over the lines.
"Why not? It's a very popular name," you remarked. Canting your head to the side, you began listing out the names of children you heard whilst walking in town, the voices of their exasperated mothers echoing in your head. "Tomo, Teru, Nao..."
The stone he had been pinching between his index and middle fingers made a dull clack as Michikatsu dropped it back into the bowl.
"Tsugikuni Nao," he declared, with more than a touch of disdain in his voice.
"Sounds rather fashionable," you offered.
"It sounds provincial," Michikatsu remarked, fishing for another stone in his bowl.
"What do you have in mind then?"
Michikatsu stilled for a moment as he considered your words, his thumb polishing the glossy black stone in his hand. Then, slowly, he said: "Nobuzaemon..."
"What?" you giggled, hiding your grin with the back of your hand.
"A chi'd's name should be treated with care and importance," Kokushibo reasoned, placing the stone on the board with a light clack. "It determines their life and the path they will take."
"Still, we're naming a child, not a kabuki actor..."
Kokushibo said nothing further thereafter, and a stiff silence befell the two of you; as he continued with his game, you noticed that he seemed rather distracted. The sounds of the stone tapping on the Go board were louder than usual, each move proceeding faster as he filled the intersecting lines. Still, you chose not to comment, wondering instead if you should have humoured him when he suggested that name, however strange it was to your ears.
But the child is mine too, you thought as you tucked yourself in bed that night, after you two had spent the rest of the day and evening without exchanging another word. You were happy to concede to Kokushibo in many things — craft and repair, his knowledge of the arts, his skills on the Go board; just as he deferred to your expertise when it came to choosing his clothes, tidying the house, and managing your shared expenses. But a child was no room for compromise; Kokushibo's suggestion had indeed sounded antiquated to your ears, and you would loathe for your child to be teased by other children.
"I have something for you," you suggested three afternoons later when you realised you could not bear the cold drift that hovered over your heads. Michikatsu was seated in the yard, affixing a new strap for his sandals. You sat down beside him, and produced a piece of paper which you had folded carefully and stowed in your sleeves.
Smoothing out the creases, you revealed what you have committed yourself to for the past few days: a list of kanji that you liked in names: Tada, Kiyo, Hiro, Kazu...
Kokushibo's eyes drifted from the paper and to your face with curiousity. You continued: "You can add your favourite characters here, and we'll choose a name that we both like."
Taking the parchment from your hands, Kokushibo was quiet as he took in your selections. Eventually, he folded the paper back along the lines and slipped it into his kimono.
"I'll think about it."
"Don't just think," you countered, You tucked the paper further into the folds before pressing your hand against his chest. "Write anything that comes to your mind, and let me know when you're ready."
You stood up, and dusted away the dirt on your clothes. As you prepared to leave, however, Kokushibo grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you to an abrupt stop. Turning around, you saw that he was on the verge of saying something: an acquiescence, then? Or an apology, perhaps?
But you noticed how the hardened lines in his brow had softened somewhat, and he decided to let go of your hand without a word; instead of dropping your hands to your sides, you let your fingers linger a moment longer, brushing against the calluses of his palm, a small but knowing smile on your lips.
Now, if we're talking specific names — and I hope that I do not ruin anyone's headcanon of how Kokushibo/Michikatsu had named or would name his children (canonically and in the context of Notte Stellata) — I think the Reader and him would eventually choose Tada, which can be written as 正 (which means steadfast and upright), 忠 (loyalty), amidst other characters and meanings. Kokushibo would be partial towards the second, I believe, as a former samurai.
This could therefore imply the following name combinations and meanings:
Tadanobu 忠延 — loyalty + continuation/perpetuation
Tadasuke 忠仰 — loyalty + admiration/adulation
Tadahiro 忠熙 — loyalty + radiance
These names are generally considered a little old-fashioned, but not too much (like the one Kokushibo suggested, which comes straight out of Kurosawa film). It's a sensible old name (think Theodore, Frederick, Percival).
For a daughter, however, they would choose something a lot less intense, for lack of a better word. I'd like to think, in line with the Reader's flair for painting, that they chose a name with an -e (絵, meaning painting or illustration) at the end, which gives us something to the tune of:
Yukie 雪絵 — lit. snow painting;
Fuyue 冬絵 — lit. winter painting/landscape
Tsukie 月絵 — lit. moon painting (this is a little on the nose, but I love it, honestly)
This, of course, harkens also to the Reader and Kokushibo's first encounter, where they met beneath a moonless sky, in the snow.
I hope this was helpful! I most certainly had a lot of fun thinking of the various names they would have. :D
xoxo, V ♥️
23 notes · View notes
haveyouseenthismovie-poll · 9 months ago
Text
hahadoesanythingreallymatteranyw said: I’m really sorry if this is the wrong place to ask, or if you’ve already answered elsewhere, but do you know when submissions will reopen?
No need to apologize!
So, here's the thing: when I made this blog, I went pretty overboard on leaving the submission box open and queueing every request I received. At one point, the queue had over 300 posts in it and I still hadn't even queued every request! That's why submissions are still currently closed: there's still a ton of asks I haven't gotten to yet, even with the amount of polls currently queued.
My plan was to open the askbox back up in March, but I still won't have gotten to all the asks currently in my inbox even by then. So here's what's going to happen: by the end of this month, every movie on the IMDB list that this blog is currently using will be posted. After that, I will increase the number of daily polls from two a day to five a day and temporarily focus primarily on requests rather than "top 250" lists. This will allow this blog to get through all of the requests currently in the queue/inbox much faster, making it more viable for the askbox to be opened again sooner.
I'm still working on queueing the asks in the inbox right now, but once I finish I will make an announcement about how far back the queue goes and thus when the askbox will open up again. I hope this works for everyone and I'm sorry for the long delay.
72 notes · View notes
crimson-calligraphyx · 5 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Tag List: @cheyfi @kingdomof-omens @daylightlvrs @blade-in-red @jay02bo @itsmrsfuentes @cncohshit @catj422 @lma1986 @chels3a-smile @kiwi475 @cookiesupplier @timid-raccoon @xxkittenkissesxx
A/N: I just want to apologize for the delay. I really lost my motivation there for a while, but you all deserve an update. Love you all 🖤
Braxton Hicks.
After a very much panicked phone call with my doctor, we were able to determine that the pain I had been feeling was, in fact, false labor. Thank God.
Still, she insisted that I take things easy from here on out—not necessarily total bed rest, but to not be on my feet for any extended periods. There was no way I'd be able to stay off my feet while at the bakery, so that meant that I had to leave the bakery in the hands of Juliana earlier than we had originally planned. Which wasn't a problem per se, but I would've liked to have helped her prepare more than I had been able to.
I tossed my phone down beside me on the mattress with a huff after letting Jules know the new and unexpected plan. She said that it wasn't a problem and that she could handle it, but there was a hesitancy in her voice that told me otherwise. I had no choice but to take her word for it; there wasn't anything that I could do at this point. What the doctor said, goes—Noah wouldn't let me do anything otherwise.
I closed my eyes and ran a hand down my belly with a deep exhale, hoping to shut out the stress from today. I feel him kick against my palm, and it brings a subtle smile to my face. There wasn't anything to worry about. The baby is okay, I'm okay, the bakery will be just fine.
"How are we doing?" Noah asks, quietly entering our bedroom. "We're fine," I answer, opening my eyes to the mess that was my husband. "What the hell happened to you?" I snort, taking note of the light blue he was now sporting on nearly his whole left arm. The longer I stared, the more paint I noticed had accumulated on him. It was splattered across the front of his pants, a good portion of the left side of his shirt, across his face, and even in his hair. "Did a bomb go off while you were painting?"
He glances down at himself, his eyebrows rising in surprise as if he hadn't even noticed he was practically turning into a Smurf. Pink skirts across his cheeks, a bashful chuckle sounding from him as he brings his attention back to me. "Yeah, about that..." he trails off, shaking his head. "I finished painting the room." "Are you sure? Cuz I think you're wearing most of the paint," I tease, pushing myself up into a sitting position. "Yes, I'm sure." He rolls his eyes, "Come see for yourself."
He offers me his clean hand, pulling me to my feet and guiding me to the baby's room. I gasped upon entering, a smile spreading on my face; the walls were pristine, evenly painted, leaving only the painter's tape over the trim as the paint dried.
My eyes flicker to the still-tarped floor, catching a mess of baby blue around the roller pan that was now misshapen. I glanced between the pan and Noah's coated arm before quirking a brow up at him, finally putting two and two together.
"What happened here?" I flashed him a knowing grin, folding my arms over my chest and cocking my head towards the spill. He shrugged before simply stating, "I tripped." "And took a bath in the paint, it seems," I giggled. He rolls his eyes again, draping his right arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards him. "Oh, come on. It's not that bad." He plants a brief kiss atop my head. I snort, leaning into him and wrapping my arm around his back. "Whatever you say, Papa Smurf." "I think you mean Daddy Smurf," he humors, a hint of sultry in his voice as he brings me in front of him and waggles his brows at me. I snort, shaking my head at him. "You did not just say that." "Oh, I so did," he teases before planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
I swat my hands at him and he laughs, pecking my face a few more times before letting me go. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of me from his playfulness and smiled as I stood on my toes, giving him one last kiss before turning to admire the room once again.
"The room really came out great, Noah," I tell him truthfully. "Thank you." He sidles up behind me, running his hands up and down my arms. "Why are you thanking me? It was a joint effort, Liv." I shrug. "You've done so much. You put together the furniture and finished the walls without me." "You're 8 months pregnant," he chuckles lightly. "I'm not making you do all of that. And before you say it, I know I was a dick about it earlier, and I'm still sorry about that. I was just frustrated—" "I know, Noah. I know." I lean into him as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, holding me to him. "Just let me thank you for all that you do, okay?" "Okay," he agrees quietly, kissing the back of my head.
We stayed like this for a moment or two as I envisioned how the room would look once the walls were dry and things were put into place. A smile graces my lips, picturing the white bookshelf filled with children's books, the nightstand with a small lamp, the lampshade peppered with clouds, and a hot air balloon to match the wall decal we'd eventually put up. The crib with blue and white bedding that will soon house our son, the wall behind it soon bearing his name and a picture of him as a newborn. Stuffed animals galore, and a rocking chair in the corner for when we read him bedtime stories.
God, I couldn't fucking wait.
-
"Seriously?" I shout, slamming the hardcover book in my hands shut, the sound carrying through our much-too-quiet living room. "You okay?" Noah pokes his head out from the kitchen, one eyebrow perched in curiosity. "No," I grumble, holding up the book with one hand and shaking it with agitation. "That's how this ends?!" Both his brows shoot up in surprise, though his expression quickly melts into a knowing smirk when he sees that I'm holding his copy of Iron Flame. "Told ya," he chuckles, returning to whatever task he had in the kitchen. "This is some bullshit! Now I gotta wait months to know what fucking happens!"
I hear him laugh as I toss the book onto the side table next to me, adding it to the ever-growing collection of books I've read in the past three weeks. I huff, throwing my head back against the couch and folding my arms across my chest as I fester in what was admittedly unnecessary anger.
"Here, I made you some lunch," Noah says as he joins me in the living room. He holds out a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chips, and a pickle spear, with which I do nothing but stare at it. "I'm not hungry," I mumble, setting my jaw and looking forward. He snorts. "Are you really that mad?" He asks, lowering his arms. "Yes," I pout. "It's just a book, Liv. You've gotta eat," he tells me and balances the plate atop my belly.
I blink at the food in front of me, appalled that he actually just put it on my stomach as if it's some sort of fucking table, before slowly bringing my gaze to Noah. He flashes me a cheeky grin, clearly pleased with himself, and my blood starts to simmer.
It's been three weeks of nothing but sitting on my ass and reading, three weeks without going into the bakery, three weeks of Noah coddling me as if I'm broken and not just pregnant, and it was starting to get under my skin.
"Really?" I snap at him. He cringes apologetically, taking the plate back into his possession. "Sorry, I was just trying to make you laugh." "Using him as a table isn't going to make me fucking laugh, Noah." I palm the cushions beside me, pushing myself off the couch and brushing past him, headed down the hallway. "Liv, wait," he sighs, trailing after me.
I reach our bedroom, immediately rummaging through my bureau for a change of clothes—I needed out of these pajamas, and out of this damn house.
After throwing what seemed to be half my wardrobe across the room, I held up a sundress that I hadn't worn since last year and stared at it, wondering if it would still fit. It was flowy enough that it should, theoretically, fit right over my bump and hit my knees. I shrugged, laying it out on the bed, and began stripping out of my PJs.
I slipped the sunflower-clad fabric over my head, wriggling and tugging at the sides to manipulate it into place. It was a little snug around my chest, forcing my breasts together and accentuating my cleavage, but it did fit exactly how I imagined it would around my belly, settling right above the knee.
"Liv, what are you doing?" "Going out," I answer Noah curtly, slipping on a pair of tennis shoes. I can feel his eyes burning into my back as I walk to our closet, digging out a shoulder bag. "Oh... Well, where are you going?" I shrug. "Not sure. Maybe the beach," I tell him as I retreat from the closet, placing a sunhat on my head. "I just need to get out." "Let me take you, then. I don't think you should walk all the way—"
I let out a groan, throwing my head back in aggravation. The hat tumbles from its seat, landing behind me, and I sigh harshly as I begin to squat to retrieve it. Noah beats me to it, picking it up and placing it back on my head. He runs a hand down my shoulder, earning my gaze, and I see his eyebrows are pulled together, creased with concern. "Why are you so mad, Olivia? It's just a book," he all but whispers.
Again, I sigh, my eyes closing as my shoulders slump. "It's not really about the book, that's just an excuse," I mumble, shaking my head at myself. "I'm just cooped up, sitting around doing nothing. And when I do get up to do something, you're there in a heartbeat and won't let me do whatever it is I got up to do. I feel like a ticking timebomb," I scoff incredulously, bringing my gaze back to his. "Just waiting around til he's ready to come out. And then the ending of the book, knowing I have to wait for the next one to get published—it tipped me off. All I'm doing is waiting, Noah. At least let me do something while I wait."
"I—" His lips part, but he remains silent. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as his eyes bounce between mine. "I'm sorry, Liv," he sighs. "I didn't want you overdoing it after what happened." "Can't overdo something I'm not doing," I mutter. "Just let me do something. Anything. Please." "Okay," he agrees quietly with a quick bob of his head. I give him a soft smile. "Okay."
-
With my shoes in one hand and Noah's hand in the other, we leisurely strolled our way across the shoreline. The sun kissed my skin as the tide rolled over our bare feet and the oceanic breeze coasted by, my hair and dress caught in its path. Gulls cried overhead and children laughed as they played about in the sand, building sandcastles and digging trenches. I let out a content sigh, a grin spreading across my face as peace washed over me.
This was exactly what I needed.
Fresh air and sand beneath my toes; no air conditioning and no book in my face.
Noah gives my hand a rhythmic squeeze, and I look up at him. He's squinting, his eyes extra crinkled at the outer corners because he neglected to grab a hat and sunglasses, but he's smiling down at me. I couldn't help but giggle, and placed a kiss against his upper arm before resting my head against him as we carried on.
"Are you having a good time?" he asks, giving my hand another squeeze. "The best," I tell him, returning his squeeze. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier." "I guess you could say you were a little...crabby... earlier, but it's okay, I forgive you."
I halted, the hand that Noah was holding rising as he continued to walk without noticing I had stopped. He turns when our arms tug against one another, and I shake my head at him, processing his poor joke.
"Get it? Crabby cuz, ya know, we're at the beach and there are crabs at the beach." "You are such a dumbass," I say with a chuckle. "What? I gotta get these dad jokes down sooner or later," he snickers. I roll my eyes. "I'd say you got them down pat." "Yeah?" He smirks when I nod. "Well that's good, he'll be here any day now." I smile down at my belly. "Any day now."
|Chapter 27|
33 notes · View notes
am-i-the-asshole-official · 11 months ago
Note
AITA for questioning the deck guy?
Last summer my wife and I (24F and 25M at the time, tho I'm trans and still looked like a woman) were housesitting for an older couple (60s M&F). The couple is very nice, treats us very well, and has a nice house in a nice neighborhood and two golden retrievers (6M&12F) we care for while they're away. We've been their go-to housesitters for about 2 years and I take it very seriously, considering they've placed their trust in us to take care of their house and dogs.
One morning last summer as I was getting ready for work, there was a knock at the door. I answered and there was a guy with a truck saying he was there to work on the deck and asking to be let into the back yard. I was confused because usually if there is something like this scheduled during our stay, the home owners let us know. So, I asked him if he had any confirmation that he was scheduled to be here.
He did NOT like that. To be clear, I wasn't thinking he had any nefarious plans, I was just wondering if maybe he had the wrong house. But also, I wasn't gonna let a random guy into the backyard and then leave for work, especially with my wife asleep upstairs. Even if I didn't think he was up to anything, that just seemed like common sense safety. And since I was being polite and (I think) reasonable, it felt like his immediate getting mad at being questioned was a red flag. He showed me a text from his boss with the address he was supposed to go to, but didn't have any record of the client name or anything, and this still felt like it could all be a mistake so I asked if he could wait while I contacted the home owners.
He got huffy and made some rude comments but went back to his truck. I texted the homeowners and they apologized for forgetting to tell me, at which point I let him into the back yard. He couldn't have been delayed more than 10 minutes.
The dogs hang out in the kitchen during the day, with a big window looking out to the deck, and as I continued getting ready for work they kept barking at him. I know this was kind of an AH move, but I didn't really try to stop them, since he'd been rude, and I justified it by thinking that I didn't want them to think it was okay if he tried to come in or something.
But as far as questioning him in the first place - AITA?
What are these acronyms?
75 notes · View notes
cirrus-grey · 16 days ago
Note
Hello! I'm the person who asked you about episode 169, thank you so much for replying! I especially loved hearing your opinion about Jon's paranoia, and how he's probably still recovering from it, because it never crossed my mind that it might still be relevant to this situation - but you're totally right!
He genuinely doesn’t realize that Martin might want to find another way to go until he asks (“You’re sure there isn’t another way?”) and then literally the first thing Jon says is “I’m sorry,” because it doesn’t hit him until that moment that he’s just assumed Martin’s willingness the entire way without asking him. - you said this and later part of the conversation was probably what people had the most divided opinions on, and I can see why.
Though I don't think I read Jon's "I'm sorry" as apology, but more as sympathising? Kind of like:
"Well, it’s the best I can do!" - Jon, still under the impression Martin will be glad to see Jude killed
"You’re sure there isn’t another way?" - Jon says nothing to this, so I thought this was the first moment when he thought something might be wrong and didn't know how to answer. But then Martin says, "Yeah, I know, the journey will be the journey, blah blah ominous blah."
Now, after your reply, I think Jon takes it as "burning building doesn't sound good, but obviously any other choice will be just as bad, so it's fine", but the first time I listened it sounded like Martin was saying "yeah, I know we have to go through certain places", and that's why I was so surprised Jon didn't correct that misconception. But looking at the next lines, I think he only understood that Martin was thinking they have to go through after Martin's next words. His "I'm sorry" now feels like sympathising that they have to do something unpleasant either way - I kind of can't imagine he'd be so cagey about there being another way if he understood how distressed Martin really was.
"It’s fine. I know you wouldn’t take me through if we didn’t actually need to go through, so…" - it seems like this is when Jon realises he and Martin have been having two different conversations, though he has not yet realised that Martin really doesn't want to go. It's clear from some of the next parts of the conversation he already sees that Martin is conflicted, and that knowing there is another way is making him reconsider things ("You said you were onboard." / "I was! I am. I just thought-" / "It wouldn't hurt?"), but he still doesn't understand just how much.
"John, is there another way?" / "I mean – sort of? Maybe?" - I wonder if this just residual caginess resulting from having to have a difficult conversation and knowing he'll have to admit some difficult things, or if he genuinely didn't look at other options before. Since he took a hard turn after the roots, I'm thinking the former, but. who knows?
Sorry if this is too much dissecting for you, I just had so many thoughts after you replied, but I don't want to overwhelm you so please let me know if you're not up to this! And thank you again for replying to my previous ask!
Previous post here.
I always appreciate extra analysis! I don’t have much to add though, because… yeah! You make a very good point, and I could definitely see this being the arc of Jon’s perception - slightly delayed from what I was saying before, taking just a bit longer to catch on to the fact that Martin thinks this is the only way through.
Though, on a slight tangent, I’ve never really been certain that they can go around? Jon’s “Sort of, maybe” combined with the fact that they bring up Arthur Nolan has always had me suspecting that the “other way” is still through fire, just… not Jude Perry’s section of the fire. They have to pass through the Desolation at some point, and I’d imagine there aren’t too many sections of it that aren’t burning.
Anyway, that doesn’t really effect any of the analysis here, but it could be another level of Jon’s hesitance - he really doesn’t want to have to tell Martin “yes, there is another way, but it’s also on fire.”
12 notes · View notes