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wooziorgans · 4 months ago

Note

Noan do you not feel anything for nerd!jihoon?!?!?? Do you not fantasize about him being a silent shy nerd until he have you in his room, on his bed, naked, screwing you, raw, filling you up with his load and still not pulling out, just staying in, connected and you wondering where's the nerdy boy.

Thee nerd in question btw (this guy in short hai is my so fqing favorite I can literally do ANYTHING for him 😭😭😭😭 please please please please jihoona)

— shy nerd uji

oh lord. oh he’s such a hot loser i need him. god did i have thoughts abt this. also ur other ask is being combined w another ask for the ultimate sub uji story. yeah anyways.

shy nerd!jihoon who practically took you under his wing in your shared chemistry class freshman year. you were lab partners, and he seemed competent enough to help you out personally with the labs, though you asked him for his number after the first class because he was too shy.

jihoon, who only wears tight fitting clothes on lab days because his regular baggy shirts and sweatpants are a safety hazard. you can’t help but stare at his muscles before he puts on his lab coat. his face burns as he slips his goggles on over his glasses.

jihoon, who helps you out with all the calculations for the remainder of the semester, even after you get the hang of it. who panics when you spill sulphuric acid on yourself, even though it has a low molarity so it won’t burn you.

jihoon, who you end up becoming pretty good friends with, even though you only see him once a week in your lab section. he always answers your questions about chemistry, even if you have different professors.

he slowly opens up to you, and you find out in your last study session that he’s actually a music major. you beg him to show you some of his songs, and he agrees, red in the face. on the condition you do well on your chem final.

jihoon, who you managed to keep seeing and hanging out with, even if you no longer share a class together. three years later, at the start of your final year of university, you can mutually say that you’re each others best friends.

shy nerd!jihoon, who isn’t as shy as he used to be, but he gets red in the face whenever you tease him. he still has his walls up around you, certain ones that he doesn’t seem to have with the rest of your friend group.

you can’t deny your attraction to him. his glasses, which he always pushes up as he studies, contrast so starkly with his pale skin. his bulging muscles which radiate heat as autumn starts to roll in.

jihoon cut his hair at the start of the semester, and you thought you’d be more upset with the change, but you can’t argue with the fact that he looks hot as fuck with shorter hair. you’ve seen him grow into a young man over the last few years, and his haircut suits him.

jihoon, who also didn’t go home for the holidays, and so you both spend your week together, catching up on homework and studying. you also spend your break with a multi-day movie marathon in his apartment.

jihoon and his apartment, which you’ve practically been living in for the last few days. your overnight bag sits in the corner of his living room, dirty clothes folded nicely on top of it. your toothbrush sits next to his, and it has him thinking hard about your friendship.

he can’t deny the fact that he thinks you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. he can’t deny how domestic your whole week is going to be, can’t deny how much his chest flutters when you insist on cuddling while you watch movies. he can’t deny the obvious pull towards you, one he can only hope is mutual.

jihoon, who lets you throw your leg over his as you cuddle, his face burning at the outward affection. your breath comes out in small puffs, fist tightening in his shirt as you slowly start to fall asleep with your head on his chest.

jihoon, who wraps his arm around you, hand resting on your thigh. you crane your neck up softly to look at him; his glasses are slipping down his face as he tries to pay attention to the movie. he looks beautiful like this, and you decide to try and play off touching him as a mindless, half asleep action.

your fingers release his shirt, which had pulled up, exposing the base of his stomach to the cool air of his room. you carefully, oh so slowly, trail your fingers down to the skin. you push your hand back up, nails scratching gently against his abs.

jihoon grips your thigh softly, lips parting as his other hand grabs your hand to stop you. his cock twitches softly in his sweats, and you can feel it against the inside of your thigh. “y/n,” he pants, as though he had just run a mile in record time. you flatten your hand against his stomach, pinky brushing against the band of his sweats.

“want you.” you murmur, closing your eyes as you just feel his skin. jihoon gives your thigh another squeeze before his hand falls to your ass. you shift up on his chest, leaning up to kiss his neck softly.

in one quick moment, jihoon flips you over, off of him and onto your back. you squeak softly, all the air leaving your lungs as he straddles your thighs. before you get the chance to say anything, jihoon’s lips are on yours as he starts to kiss you stupid.

you start to pant into his mouth, completely in awe at how good he is at kissing. you had assumed he was a little bit more of a loser with very little experience, but judging by the way he’s kissing you, he clearly knows what he’s doing.

jihoon pushes your shirt up, hand holding your side as his thumb brushes over your nipple. it’s hardly a graze, but it has your back arching off the bed as he pulls away. he smirks at you, hands leaving your body as he pulls his shirt off in one motion. you gasp at the sight of just how ripped he is. jihoon shakes his head as he pushes his glasses up, a sadistic puff of a laugh escaping his lips.

“what, baby? you know i work out.” he whispers, and the pet name he uses has you reeling, back arching back off the bed.

“you’re so fucking hot, oh my god.” you gasp, hands pulling at your shirt until you finally get the damn thing off. jihoon just chuckles at how desperate and cute you look right now. he doesn’t wait for you to settle back on w your shirt is off. instead, he gets straight to work, pulling your own sweatpants down. his fingers catch your underwear on the way down, and he decides to just get everything over with at once.

the cool air hits your burning core as jihoon spreads your thighs apart. he settles on his knees as he leans down, pressing soft kisses at the base of your stomach. he trails down further and further, licking at biting at you skin, covering you in light marks that slowly start to darken. finally, his chin brushes against the hood of your clit, and your hands snap to his hair, head falling back as your eyes close.

jihoon laughs again, almost cruel, as he places a kiss to your clit. his tongue darts out, pushing its way in between your folds to taste your arousal. he moans against you, and the vibrations only add to the stimulation. his fingers slowly start to find their way to your core.

he drags them over your entrance, not yet pushing them in as he goes back to focusing on your clit. you look down at him, opening your eyes to find him watching you intently. jihoon pushes two of his fingers into your entrance, and your tight walls suck him in almost instantly.

jihoon locates your spot almost instantly, milking it as he curls his fingers. his lips are suctioned against your clit, and you can’t take it anymore. with the way he’s looking at you, glasses slightly fogged from the heat between your legs and his breath against you, you cum hard around his fingers.

jihoon lets you ride out your orgasm, and once your chest is rising and falling rapidly, you can feel him smirk against you as he pulls his fingers out of you. “good. i wanted to make you cum at least once before i fucked you.” he shifts on his knees, pulling away from your core as his hand finds the knot of his sweats.

he pulls the bow free, slipping them down to his knees before he kicks them off. jihoon’s hard cock slaps his stomach and you lose your breath once again. his cock is big, veiny and so hard. small beads of precum leak from his tip, and he wraps his pretty hand around the head of his cock, coating it in his arousal as he strokes himself languidly.

“you still want this?” he asks as he leans over you. your hands find the side of his face as you nod. “good. been thinking about this for so long, baby. you have no idea.” he breathes out as he lines himself up, tip slipping through your folds.

he pushes in, and slides home in one motion. your walls spasm around him at the stretch. it burns, based on the sheer size of his cock, but you’re so wet it’s hardly a real issue. jihoon gives you a few moments to breathe as he peppers your face with chaste kisses, before he pulls back out, only to slam back in.

the pace he sets is brutal, hard and fast, and you know you won’t last long like this. you guess this is payback for the years of teasing and sexual comments made towards him, just to see him blush and get shy. jihoon pushes his tongue into your mouth, chasing your moans with his mouth.

your nails scratch at his back, crescent indents left behind over the muscles of his shoulders. he hisses at the sting and grips the flesh of your thigh harshly as he jackhammers into you.

it’s so dirty, messy; the slick sounds of jihoon moving inside of you, the repetitive slap of skin on skin, completely filthy as he fucks you like his life depends on it. the way he pushes his glasses back up his face makes your eyes roll back.

jihoon was always so soft and sweet, a naturally kind and gentle person, so to say that you’re losing your mind right now as he fucks you into oblivion would be an understatement. you can’t think, can’t even really make coherent noises as he fucks you. he shifts your hips up, tip of his cock kissing your spot, and it’s over for you.

you cum, the sheer force of your orgasm knocks the sound from your throat. you feel like you’re about to black out; a hot, white wave of pleasure so intense that your senses numb for a moment as you tighten impossibly around jihoon.

you’re so tight and warm and wet, it only takes a few more thrusts for jihoon to spill his load inside of you. he bites his lip as he cums, head thrown back as his own orgasm washes over him.

jihoon collapses on top of you, cock still sheathed in your warm walls. his hands find your hair and waist. his touch is so soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how he was moments ago, that it pulls you back down to earth. you have had the mind to tell him to pull out, but the feeling of still being full, albeit incredibly sensitive, is so nice that you don’t say anything.

“fuck.” you pant, a soft laugh falling from your lips. jihoon rolls you over onto your sides, hand cradling your head to his chest.

“you okay?” he asks quietly.

“yeah. so good. i’m so good right now, you have no idea.” you laugh again, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone.

“i hope that wasn’t too much, baby.” you can feel him smile against your hair.

“it was perfect, hoonie. i just- shit, where’d the shy nerd go? what happened to you?” you ask breathlessly. jihoon laughs quietly, pulling your head back from his skin gently so he can kiss you.

this kiss is so soft and delicate, like he’s afraid of shattering the moment you’re having right now. “dead and gone, baby. no more of that, now that i know you want me just as bad.” he whispers against your lips.

“good. i like being close to you like this.” you smile softly, pecking him once more.

“let’s get you cleaned up. i went kind of rough on you.” jihoon smiles back, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“oh, fuckin’ tell me about it.” you giggle, brushing the hair out of his face.

“karmic retribution, baby. you can’t tease me for three years and think that your actions won’t have consequences.” jihoon laughs as he pulls his softening cock out of you. he hisses softly as he watches his cum slip out of you.

“remind me to keep teasing you if it means you’ll fuck me like that again.” you clench, trying to keep jihoon’s load inside.

“i’d rather you just tell me next time.” he whispers lowly into your ear. you wonder briefly if this new development is for the better, with the way his tone has you throbbing again. jihoon slides off the bed, away from you and you whine at the loss of his warmth.

jihoon throws his head back in a hearty laugh as he leans back over you to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom.

shy nerd! jihoon, who is all but dead and gone as he runs you a warm bath to soothe your aching muscles. he kisses you sweetly as he sets you down on the counter, massages your thighs and scalp in the warm water.

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prettiestofpisces · 6 months ago

Text

Breanna Stewart x Reader

nsfw 18+

💋: angst, car quickie, college stewie

⋆ ★ let me know if this is absolutely garbage and what to fix, you won’t hurt my feelings…muah

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you knew what breanna wanted when she asked if you were up.

“i want to come see you.”

you stared at the message contemplating if you wanted to get hurt yet again.

fooling around with thee breanna stewart, uconns mvp, was not for the weak. especially when she was up to no good. she wanted you for one thing and one thing only.

you two had met through mutual friends and as you attended her games your eyes lingered on breanna more than you’d like to admit. afterwards when all your friends would gather breanna couldn’t help but surround herself by you, asking where you were. becoming closer and closer you no longer needed a group of friends as an excuse to find your way back to one another. you two could enjoy each others company alone and conversate about life outside of basketball and aspirations while never getting tired.

spending sacred time together also meant there were hidden glances and touches that lingered that therefore only progressed.

after games there were no more nights out on the town but rather nights in with just the two of you that held no more innocent touches but instead the most ravishing sex you’d ever had.

after a hard loss breanna would be in distress and fuck you like there was no tomorrow. her pent up frustrations released into the rough kisses she gave you and forceful fingers rammed into your cunt.

however when they won, which was quite often, she’d treat you like a princess. holding your face in her hands pecking your lips and running her fingers through your hair.

nights like these you couldn’t help but to think you were in love. and sooner or later you’d be able to call breanna yours.

but those were not her intentions as breanna claimed this was just “for fun.” occupying her time and yours.

you should’ve known, you should’ve known she never had love for you once she orgasmed and rushed to put her clothes back on, never looking back.

but sex and to feel good clouded your judgment so now you’re here in the passenger seat of a 2005 toyota 4runner with the curly brunette in the drivers seat.

“why couldn’t i have come up again?” she questioned.

“because my roommate is sleeping B” you sigh and roll your eyes.

you lie between your teeth when in reality she begged you not to go downstairs. but you were consistent in telling your roommate you were only going to “talk” some things over, and to not worry.

as the stars twinkle breanna simply hums and scans your body, taking in the tight shirt which exposed your hardened nipples and short shorts that revealed your plush thighs.

“you look good” she mumbles.

“thank you B” you say flustered and unable to make eye contact. you look at the clock on the radio that illuminates the time, 12:37.

“look it’s late stewie and i’ve-“ she cuts you off to then grab your face, bring it close and whisper “so we need to be quick.” not able to resist, your breath halters and lips depart, you nod in agreeance and your facade faded.

breanna waste no time in securing your mouths together and playing with your bottom lip.

you whine, unsure of where to put your hands in which they result on her shoulders. sticking your tongue in her mouth they swirl together.

swapping spit was not in your night time regimen, but, you couldn’t resist all 6 foot and 4 inches of breanna. after some minutes of making out stewie grabs hold of your waist hoisting you up and over the middle console onto her lap. as you both release from the kiss a pop could be heard and you get settled in your new positions. breanna she pushes the seat down and back creating more room.

panting, you grind your clothed pussy on hers and slowly take off your top. breanna however quickly attaches one hand on to your tit and her lips on your neck. she sucked and scratched until after leaving a dark mark on your collarbone, satisfied. Leaning back into the seat she takes her shirt own off leaving just the black nike sports bra you knew all too well. in comparison she watched you struggle to manipulate yourself to take your shorts and panties off, a smile washing over her face.

you look at her with an annoyed expression and set yourself back on her lap, clit now exposed.

you look at each other in content.

“sit on my face” her grin widens

“hmm?”

“i said, ride my face, hard”

a puzzled expression takes over, and your nerves chewed you up.

in attempt to put your concerns at ease, stewie takes hold of you waist once again and forces you to move up over her chest.

seeing how bad she wants this you readjust some more and settle down to feel the immediate wetness of her tongue on your lips. hands still on your waist they move your hips back and forth and in circles along breannas lips, tongue and nose.

your hand makes it way to the window leaving a condensated print.

“B you make me feel so good” you moan and move harder, squeezing your eyes shut.

she chuckles and the vibrations tighten the knot in your stomach.

“o-oh my god”

“suck my clit harder please”

“mm fuck-“

dirty words expelled from you uncontrollably while stewie took one hand away from your torso to slap and grab your ass.

you yelp and just like that your orgasm was approaching.

everything on breanna is long, her arms, legs and especially her tongue. she stuck the muscle right in your pussy and with a few more pumps, in and out your orgasm hit you like a brick wall.

sliding off her face and back on breannas hips you cup your cunt as all the feelings became too much.

“you’re shaking” stewie says with a laugh.

“no shit B”

“we can really do this more often”

as stewie kisses you gently, reality then hits. more often meaning, late night calls and quickies.

your eyes taking in all her features glistening with your slick made you contemplate whether you’re able to really say goodbye and let her go.

“um- no B i don’t think we can…”

it’s breannas turn to then look puzzled.

her large palms move from your waist to the small of your back and rub the area in undetectable patterns.

“i-i don’t want to continue this.”

in search for your clothes you return back to the passenger seat.

“what?” she says plainly.

you slip your shirt and shorts on “i’m tired of doing this with you, pretending like i don’t want something more!”

breanna whips her head at you, eyebrows raised

“it pains me we’re so intimate but i can’t say you’re mine” you clutch your chest ready for whatever dismissive excuse she was about to give you. but instead she rubs her face and closes her eyes “okay.”

“okay?! breanna are you fucking serious?”

you’re hurt.

you never called her breanna, only “B” and on rare occasions “stewie.”

She blinks in disbelief “i truly don’t know what to say but i think it’ll all hurt your feelings.” she combs her fingers through her messy curls and you watch as the digits flex.

the words coming out her mouth sounded so good in her northern accent but their meaning sending you in shock.

you nod with wide eyes unsure of how the only person you had been so vulnerable with couldn’t give you the time nor day.

you simply get out of the suv holding back tears. on route back to your apartment, stewie watches your hips sway and you turn around to spit

“fuck you.”

you hear the engine to her car start.

she wasn’t going to call for you? yell out and tell you to come back?

no.

but she does wait until you’re in said apartment to speed away. leaving you to climb back in bed sobbing silently.

although the next morning you wake to a text reading

“i’m sorry.”

#breanna stewart #breanna stewart x reader #breanna stewart x y/n #new york liberty #wnba #wnba basketball #uconn wbb

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moeitsu · 9 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Summary: Kate is not immune to the dangers of the land. No matter how much she loved it, the land will never love her back.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10

Trigger Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and disturbing imagery. If you do not like depictions of war and torture please proceed with caution. I did heavy research for this chapter, but please know it is entirely FICTIONAL. The characters are not real, but the events are based on real American history. Tags: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character, Widowed, Original Character, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby Arthur Morgan, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Ch 7 - The Sun Can Never Dip So Low

1890

I knew I was going to die.

If the arrow in my side does not take me, then the man who rides the horse I lay across surely will.

I felt no pain. Perhaps it was the fever of the fight. But it didn’t hurt. I thought of screaming and thrashing, but I thought better of it. As my father would say, ‘The one good thing about problems, is they’ll still be problems later. Don’t need to deal with them right away.’

Either way, I was still going to die.

If only my father had taught me how to survive the frontier. I know now that you must learn to recognize those who won’t survive, and be wary of their doomed decisions. They are to be avoided at all costs. Because their fear is tragedy’s closest cousin. And tragedy is contagious in this place.

My mind was snuffed by a white blanket of fear, but somehow I prayed, and prayed, and prayed. But God had already abandoned me, perhaps he never loved me at all. My life had been an endless cycle of taking, why would it stop taking now.

I had no idea where the man was taking me. I did not speak his language. I had heard stories about the wars between the Indians and Englishman. But I did not have a way to tell them I’m not a part of it, but I knew somehow if I could it would not matter. War will turn men into predators, and women into prey.

Only days ago I felt like I was drowning under a waterfall, but now I see this is the real river of death.

The adrenaline had begun to leak out of my body along with the blood from the arrow. I watched in a blurred haze as the droplets disappeared into the ground as the horse took us swiftly through the dark forests. The pain began creeping in along with the darkness as I blacked out.

When I woke I found myself laying on the dirt of a fort, the sound of Englishmen talking with the Indians brought me out of my haze. I thought I had been saved, I wanted to yell and scream for help. But the conversation did not sound pleasant, I could barely make out the figure of a man who must be a general and another who must have been the chief. To my surprise, I saw a young Indian woman standing behind the general, her wrists bound. She looked my age, but deathly beaten and ill. My throat closed in.

The chief's voice rose in anger and I watched him point at me, then at the woman. After a moment the general waved his hands, and the girl was unbound and brought to the chief, he swiftly lifted and cradled her. I knew then it was his daughter. At the same time one of the general's men came walking in my direction and I realized I wasn’t being rescued, but traded. One woman for another, and eye for an eye.

I thought death was better than being a prisoner, as my mind raced with panic. I almost begged the Indians to turn back and kill me.

There must be a heaven, because that night I knew I had entered the gates of hell. Crawling on my hands and knees into the belly of the beast as he took me in his bed. Night after endless night.

My days had turned into nights, and I no longer saw the point in living. Like my eyes had become devoid of color, and the world turned black and gray. Instead of praying to be rescued, I prayed my injury would kill me.

There were other prisoners in the fort, mostly Lakota men. I bore no hatred for their people, but entirely my own. Their greed so suffocating they took the daughter of the chief, an innocent girl who had no part in their war. And turned her into a shell of herself. All in the name of greed. It was always greed.

I thought my life couldn’t have any more surprises for me, that it must end here. But my life was about to change yet again.

I noticed one of the other prisoners began watching me, then leaving behind extra food and water for me. After a few days, he approached me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his accent thick. Like my language did not fit right in his mouth. Unlike his own.

“Kate,” I answered. Surprised to hear my own voice after days of torture, “what’s yours?”

“Egwani,” he said, “or in your language little river. That wound in your belly is going to get infected.” River nodded at the small purple wound on my stomach . The general's men had cauterized it, but my body had been rising with a fever for the past two days.

“It’s already infected.” And I hoped it would kill me quickly.

River shook his head, “I can help you.”

“Why would you help me?” Not that there was any hope for me anyways. Even if he stopped the infection, I was still stuck in this hell.

“That woman the white man traded you for, she is my wife.”

A chill ran down my spine. I did not want to think about what they did to her infront of him.

“You gave your life to save hers. So I will save yours.” He said sincerely. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but still. If one woman came out of this alive, then I guess my death would have some meaning to it.

“Even if you stop the infection, these men will kill me. There’s nothing you can do, I’m going to die here.” My voice betrays my thoughts. Desperation creeping its way into the cracks. Inside I wanted the pain to end, I wanted my suffering to cease. But I was still terrified, beneath it all I longed to return home. Pretend none of it happened. Return to my old life with my family. But that version of me no longer exists.

River chuckled softly.

“Is something funny?” The last thing I needed was to be shown kindness and then mocked. Like the general’s men had not degraded me enough.

“You are stubborn like the Amicalola,” he smiled. Why was he smiling? Had he not suffered just as much as I had? He must have seen his wife beaten nearly within an inch of her life, and he could do nothing, yet he was smiling at me now.

The pain in my body made my words come out bitter and sharp, “I don’t know what that means.”

“My people’s word for waterfall. You are strong like one too. It is a good name.”

I scoffed, how incredibly wrong he was.

“I’m not,” I stated with a groan. My head throbbed from the fever and my body was cold from the chills as the infection raged through my insides.

“I can give you medicine. And when my people return in a few weeks, I will escape and take you with me.” He explained.

“I think I’d rather you just kill me now,” I said, closing my eyes. The world around me was spinning in a dark haze, gravity pulling my body down with my thoughts.

“You could have killed yourself days ago,” River began, “you could have taken a rope to your throat, or a knife to your heart. But you did not,” I opened my eyes again and looked at him, “that is how I know you are strong. Your will to live is burning through you right now with a fever.”

My eyes filled with tears, and my throat suddenly felt thick. For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart began to fill with hope. River closed the gap between us and placed a gentle palm on my forehead, feeling the heat of my skin.

“I have watched you turn towards the pain as it tears into you. I have seen the way you survive, these men think they have taken everything from you. But you have not let them devour your soul.”

“I could do nothing to stop them,” I croaked. Hot tears spilling down my cheeks like water through a dry creek bed.

“Sometimes, there is strength in surrendering. But you have surrendered nothing to the pain. I see your tears, but you do not weep,” he brushed a thumb over my wet face, “you are a warrior.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

True to his word, River’s men showed up exactly two weeks later. But before that, he had given me a salve mixed from honey and sage and rubbed it over my arrow wound, as well as the numerous others I had accumulated in my time here. He also gave me an herbal tea for the infection, and by some miracle it was working. Each day I felt my strength returning to me.

River took beatings for me, when I could not walk or do chores. Or simply when the men felt like taking their frustrations out on another human being. And I felt incredibly guilty for it. But he always assured me that I needed to save my strength for the real fight, when his people came. Yet nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold.

They came under the cover of night, and used the forest and mountains to their advantage. They brought the fire, as the fort was made entirely out of wood and before long it became a fiery prison from hell. I knew our escape would not be easy, even with the help of Rivers' men. I had my strength back, but no knowledge of how to actually fight. I was lucky enough to escape with just a burn on my calf.

It had been a bloody massacre, and the men fought savagely. The Lakota people came with arrows and tomahawks and spears, and I watched as they made the men of the fort suffer. It brought a sickening joy to my heart, to see the men who had raped me have their skulls crushed and insides ripped apart. It felt like justice.

We lost people on our side, too many. None of the other prisoners had made it out alive. And I grieved for the other girls of the camp who did not make it like I had, it felt unfair. But we managed to escape. After hours of blazing rage, River swiftly lifted me onto the back of a horse, and together we rode far away from the fort. Only a few of his people escaped alongside us, as we left behind their final resting place. The numbing shock of war is behind me now, and hope has taken its place.

His men had informed us that his tribe had moved to the bottom of the Tennessee river, to escape the constant attacks and find refuge further west. So that is where our journey took us. As if life had still granted me the irony of continuing west, despite all the horrors I had faced to get there.

It took us nearly three months. We traveled through the Appalachian trails and the journey was not easy. We lived rough, and we lived hard. I felt like a burden most days, as I knew I was slowing down their journey. I was still not entirely healed, and some days I felt I did not have the strength to travel at all. But River was patient, and never made me feel like it was my fault.

He taught me how to hunt, how to fish, and how to set traps and skin animals. He even taught me some of his language, but most importantly he taught me how to survive.

“When we kill an animal we must use all parts of it, to honor it. These creatures are innocent, and when we kill an innocent we become a little less of a man, and a little more of an animal.” He told me as he demonstrated how to properly skin a rabbit.

Death is something we share with all creatures; rabbits, birds, horses and trees. It's everywhere, and eventually it will take everyone. Just as it had taken everyone who had loved me. Even as the stars die, we cannot run from it.

Despite his people running from war, they could not escape death either. We arrived at River’s tribal camp, along the bank of the Tennessee river, and it had been reduced to ash. We were too late, or perhaps we were lucky, this could have been our fate too. River, and the men who came to rescue us, were the last of his people. I saw something dark enter him that day, as he held the charred bones of his wife and child. The woman whom I gave my life for, all for nought. As I stood there, living and breathing, and she did not. Their entire family history, wiped clean from the earth.

His rage became the oil to my flame, I felt his anger mix with my own deep in my soul. All this death we had endured. Intertwined our fates like loops on a chain that bound us like shackles. But it was our grief that kept us on a tight leash. River sought revenge and justice, while I yearned to take from the world what it had taken from me. Together, we would instill fear into the heart of every man who crossed the land.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate McCanon died the day I met River. What stood before him now was the Amicalola, the waterfall. I became a woman unrecognizable.

Like many rivers, their journeys start with quiet beginnings, but as they are nourished by the waters of experience, they gather strength, flowing swiftly and deeply towards their desired path. If you follow their course and witness where they converge — they become a creature of beauty as well as fury. I became the waterfall: untamed and unbridled, sweeping away all in my path with wild abandon.

River made me into a warrior, and with each life I took, the world felt my turmoil. Anger guided my blade, for the world had stolen my family—my husband, and my daughter. It robbed me of myself, leaving me with nothing to lose.

“Our purpose is to ensure our enemies' fear is greater than their greed,” he told me. We hunted poachers, bandits, and thieves. But his rage was never satisfied.

He taught me how to kill, how to torture. How to fight with weapons capable of horrific fatalities. And I welcomed it with open arms. We fought and killed together for several years before I would begin to lose myself to the bloodshed.

We were hunting a group of poachers, when we came upon what we believed to be their camp. River was the first to drag a man from his tent, a knife already in his side. He would ask questions, and then kill him slowly. His fate sealed the moment we found their tracks. The man claimed to know nothing, but we were not convinced. And it wouldn't matter anyways, we would kill everyone in the camp. Just for the sake of it.

“What you take from the land will be taken from you. Know that I am the land, and the land is killing you.” River spoke in his native tongue as he slit the man's throat. Sickeningly slow. He would choke to death in his own blood.

A sound came from the man's tent and a figure emerged, I drew my bow, ready to release it as they stepped out. The moment a child appeared, I wished then that I had the strength to kill myself back at the fort. I had turned into a monster.

My heart was in my stomach as a little girl cried for her father. What have I done? I had almost killed a child. And we just killed her father, I realized we had been at the wrong camp. And I had just doomed a mother to be a widow, and a childhood to be ruined. I might as well have handed my fate over to them.

River stood before me, his face shadowed and his eyes vacant. The man who once filled my heart with hope now dwelled in darkness himself. At that moment, I knew I had to leave. I could no longer fight alongside him; our path led to a place from which I could not return. Like Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, yet born under the light of Spring, I too would journey down the river Styx.

He did not resist my departure. River assured me I would always be welcomed among his people, and if I desired, he would take me as his wife. For years, River had been my strength, and I his, but now I was leaving him—to salvage what little I had left of myself.

After calming the child, I made a solemn vow to reunite her with her mother. This marked the beginning of my journey to break the cycle, and seek redemption for what I had done. It would also mark the end of my journey as a warrior. As we parted ways, he whispered a message into the wind. I could not tell if it was a goodbye, or a promise, or a warning. In his tongue he told me “follow the rivers, and they will take you to the waterfall.”

~~~

AN: I seriously appreciate all the love you guys are showing for this story. It motivates me to write more, and I'm truly having so much fun with it. Thank you! <3

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somethingblu3 · 1 year ago

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Thy Mercy | Father Anthony Bridge

Read on Ao3 here.

18+ minors dni.

Fandom: Casualty

Summary:

Father Anthony commands you to list out the rosary.

TW: Church Sex, Spanking, Candles Wax Play, Improper Use of a Rosary, Priest Kink, Author is not Christian, Forbidden Secret, Relationship,neil newbon - Freeform, Begging, Burns, Dom/sub, Dirty Talk, Bible Kink, No Beta, mouth spitting, Mutual Masturbation, cum, Paddle, Humiliation, lightly edited, Orgasm Delay/Denial.

Pairing: Father Anthony Bridge x female afab reader

Word Count: 1,844

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics.

Note:

I'm not Christian, but I did go to church when I was younger. It's been over a decade since I've used a rosary, so I'm not entirely sure if the beads are accurate.

“Say it,” Father Anthony ordered in the shadows. You both sat in the empty church. The only light came from the flicker of the oil candles that hung from the ceiling. You had never been in a Church alone, especially not on a cold, dark winter night like this. Your hands are sweaty as they trace over the familiar chunky beads. It was a gift given to you by your grandmother. You remember sitting at her vanity as she gifted you the beads. They were sacred, and you kept them secure under your pillow at night, not wanting to lose them, but you almost dropped them as you felt Father Anthony’s gaze lock on you in the shadows. He was watching, waiting for you to start.

He had warned you that if you stuttered or your voice faltered, he would spank you. From the corner of your eye, you could see Anthony's hands clutching the black paddle in his hands as he readied himself. Your breathing hitches as your sweaty hands clutch at the burgundy glass. Your mind goes blank, but you can feel Anthony’s hand ghost your sides, closing your eyes. You took a breath, trying to cleanse your dry lips. Anthony pushes his nails into your thighs, a sign for you to start.

“In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit Amen” Your fingers move towards the first bead, feeling the contours of the Crucifix between them. He hadn’t even done anything yet, not even touched your skin. You could feel something against it, maybe his fingers or the brush of the silver of his belt as he grinded against you; it was hard to tell in the dark. It was scary not knowing what was coming next. He had blinded you before, but here you were in the Church surrounded by the darkness. You were both very evasive about your relationship. If anyone ever found out about this, Anthony would be fired and defrocked, not even that he would be ousted from the community.

He was more protective of that in the early days, but as your relationship developed, he found it harder and harder to let you go. You were his biggest sin. He couldn’t walk away from second to drinking. You lick your lips as they suddenly turn dry, and you hear him play with the silver of his belt. A warning. “Our father, who art in heaven…” He pulls back your black skirt, which he told you to wear for this evening’s service. Your breathing hitches as you press on, moving to the smaller beads. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.” “Faster,” Anthony hisses as his belt drops to the ground, and you feel his hands grab you by your waist. “The Agony in the Garden…The Soc-Sco-ugring at the-” You pause as he slides inside you. As always, you are already wet and sticky. His hand teases your clit, preparing you, and you hear him groan in delight. You didn’t want to disappoint him. You could already hear his voice in your head.

You stutter, “At the-Fuck” You are so tight, but that doesn’t stop him. His breathing increases Anthony halts you trying to search for your voice as it escapes you, and you feel the ip of Anthony’s cock ghosting over your back and cum dripping down your legs; you're already so wet. Not that you are surprised. He waits for a moment and clicks his tongue. You can’t help but feel…disappointed. “The scourging at the pillar,” you finish confidently. Anthony nods. “Good girl,” he praises you as he inserts himself into you once again. “The crowning with thorns-” you hesitate as you feel your cheeks flush increase. “And the crucifixion.” “You missed one,” Anthony scolds as he removes himself from you and then takes you over his lap. “The carrying of the cross,” he tells you as his paddle is against your skin."I'm sorry, father." You cry. "Again. Say them again," He demands as the paddle rests inches away from your skin, a lingering threat. You take a shaky breath, clutching the bread, and then you start again, but your brain has already turned to mush. "In the name--" You swallow as you feel him consider if he should spank you or not, but he doesn't. You clear your throat as you start again, your fingers finding their way to the beads. "In the name of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." His fingers glide against your skin.

You know he won't mark it yet, but you can't help but shiver under his grip. "Our father, who art in heaven." You continue as you move on to the next bead and then the next until you reach "The Agony in the Garden..." You pause, trembling the pad inches and inches away from your skin, and as he presses further, you fumble. "Fuck-i'm so sorry, father." You sob as his paddle spanks against your skin. "I'm so sorry," you tremble. "I thought I had trained you better than this," Anthony snarled You lower your eyes, focusing down on the wooden floor, feeling nothing but shame course through you as he spanks.

"Count. Count to four," He orders, his other hand rubbing your other cheek "One" Smack "Tw-ooh" Smack "Fuck-Thr-eee" He pauses but then adds another smack. "F-ffour" you finish He smacks again. "Good girl, now let's start again from the top."

You nod and carry on repeatedly, but then, this time, you stop at the crucifixion. You close your eyes, knowing what is coming next. You tried to prepare yourself, but there isn't another smack at your ass. Instead, Father Anthony pulls away for a moment, and then he finally starts once again. "I don't think this taught you much of a lesson, did it?" He asks with an arched brow You are too stunned to speak as you feel your ass clench from the stings. He's not going to start again, is he? Usually, he would give breaks in between or at least kiss and "So why don't we try again?" "Father, please-" He ignores you as he reaches over and grabs a candle from the holder. It drips onto your skin, and you hiss, chowing down on your cheek to bear the pain.

"Good girl," he tells you as he messages your head. He watches as your body jitters. The pain is unreal, the sensation of the hot wax. He throws down the paddle, tossing it onto the wooden floor as he grips the candle in his hand, the wax melting his skin. He inserts himself inside you once again. "Let's start from the crucifixion and see if you can finally finish." You nod, shivering from the heat. You feel like you are melting, but also, at the same time, you know that Father Anthony won't hurt you. That was against his moral code, but the pain thrill was still exciting.

"Okay," You gulp as he thrusts inside you. Your dry cum drips between your legs like the candle wax between his fingers. "Okay, okay," you whimper as you get used to his thrusts as they increase in speed, still feeling the tingle of the wax drip down your lower back. "In the name of the Father, The Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen...." Thrust "Our father, who art in heaven…" Thrust. Now, the room is filled with the sound of his skin smacking against yours. His other hand finds its way to your left waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. Your moans were escapable now. If someone were to walk in right now, it would be clear as day what the two of you were up to, and that feeling made your heart race, and you could just about see your skin turn bright red under the glow of the candle.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. The Agony in the Garden…The Scourging at the-” "Go on," He commands "The scourging at the pillar, The crowning with thorns, and the--the" You can feel yourself approaching your final orgasm as it tricks down your legs, and you roll your head back. You feel Anthony's hand in your hair as he croons your neck to look at you. He pants and spits in your mouth, his chin covered in drool. He stops trapping your hand clutched with the beads firmly.

"Hold on-" He commands as he takes the warm beads from your hands. "Turn around and face me," He commands," and he does You shiver as you finally meet his gaze. He's tired but happy as a small smirk appears at the corner of his lips. Forecebilly he takes the rosary from your hands and shoves them inside your sticky pussy. "Father," You gasp as you feel the beads between your legs. He chuckles darkly "You are such a good girl," he tells you, stroking your hair. "You're doing the Lord's work," he mumbles the sensation. Of the beads rocking between your legs is something else. The small cross rubs against the end of your pussy, edging you even closer and closer without him even touching you. You watch him as he takes his dick in his hand, proud of himself as he watches you stutter and moan, grabbing onto one of the pews. "Let yourself go, love," he instructs as he quickens the pace of his hand on his dick.

You nod, and your eyes roll back, your breathing hitching. You spot him as cum dribbles down from the head of his cock onto his robes. Your hand fiddles for the beads, and you begin rolling them against yourself. God, it was shameful, especially with how much they meant to you, but you knew after this, they would be covered in your seed, in your wetness, and you would give it to him as a gift, perhaps as a birthday present, so that he would always. Be near you. You grin at that thought.

A subtle reminder. "Now, what comes after the crucifixion, my love?" He urges as he wipes his cum against his robes "The Resurrection," you pant. You knew that wasn't all of the stages, but for now, it was the most you could get through without faltering, and you felt proud of yourself as a smile plucked at his lips. Once you finish, you both orgasm against each other, his seed mixed with your wetness. He throws the candle stick into the trash and licks his finger with your mixed juices, but his robe is still a mess. You are too weak to speak, and then he catches you as you are about to collapse onto the floor. "I want to treasure this forever." He pants as he rushes towards you, shoving your hair behind your ear, and kisses your neck as your eyes drift close. "This is heaven...". You lower your head against his neck, and you catch your breath. This man will be the death of you.

#casulty #neil newbon #father anthony bridge #father anthony bridge x reader #fanfiction #neil newbon smut #anthony bridge #casualty fanfic #bbc Casualty #ao3 cross post #neil newbon x reader #neil newbon fanfiction

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ejundo · 2 years ago

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- 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 -

ᴀᴏᴍɪɴᴇ ᴅᴀɪᴋɪ x ᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

FEM ALIGNED PLEASE DNI! THIS STORY IS MADE FOR MALE READERS ONLY!! PLEASE AND THANK YOU FOR COOPARATING!! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

warnings!; ice skater male reader | MALE reader | reader is a boy. | this won't have NSFW aomine is still a high schooler.... popular reader .. more to be added? slight of enemies to friends to lovers? most likely out of character

﹟ - ⌜𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.. ⌝ ⌞𝐀𝐰𝐰.. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.. ⌟ \ 𝐓𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐢. 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫? 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥.. 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐳𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐦. .

this was copy and pasted off of my wattpad and onto my tumblr because i honestly really like this story imo its more me!!! [ i dont know what this writing style is called but..] ANYWAY ENJOYYYYYY ★ one - ur in it. - ★two

— — — — — — — ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ — — — — — — —

the sounds of chatter filled the air. gossip. boys fawning over female genitals and being overall.. disrespectful

well? seems like a normal day for M/n L/n.

well obviously , m/n l/n was apart of these cliques. socializing and gossiping with his friend. he's a popular one.. and this caught the attention of many..

he heard his name everywhere. everyone knew his name 'm/n! ' ' ohh m/n! ' he was slightly tired of it. but, he enjoyed the attention how everyone knew his name how popular he was he loved. it.

but one didn't he found it annoying.. so annoying... that was aomine daiki. he was tired of having to hear the name m/n constantly even his own teammates had said it.

' yo , did u see m/n today? ' ' that clip m/n posted on his ig was funny as hell ' ' i wonder if m/n wants to try out basketball we could teach him? ' > <

?? that's funny..

— — — — — — — ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ — — — — — — —

aomine grumbled as he jumped onto the small platform placed on the roof top. he was tired. no not because of basketball , how would thee aomine daiki get tired over basketball? exactly. he never did. never..

infact he was tired of m/n l/n and his stupid name. what was so special about this.. nobody?

he ice skates? so? i play basketball..

aomine though wasn't aware that he was exactly the same. let's move to m/n's point of view shall we?

stupid fucking aomine.. him and his name everywhere.. whats so special about him?

it seems the two have mutual feelings? and the same thoughts about each other.. woah

enemies.

how silly...

★

M/n was heading to the ice rink he goes to , to practice. He carefully made his way on roller skates. humming a random tune. He had finally arrived at the skate rink stepping inside quickly making his way towards the lockers.

After doing his usual routine , he glanced around. Usually his skating partner would arrive earlier but it seemed that they were absent... He didn't think to much of it but had a slight ping of worry , it was unusual for his colleague to never show up for practice. M/n was now finished with his routine , stepping out of the locker room and slowly making his way towards the rink.

★

'hm? oh momoi-san! hii! ' the figure skater halted as he saw a familiar pair of pink hair enter the rink. a smile on his face as he made his way towards her , though it had slowly faded as he saw the also very familiar dark blue hair alongside her.

aomine daiki was picking his nose. ' eugh... ' m/n shivered in disgust though finally arriving infront of momoi. she was grinnning happily and both aomine and m/n knew what she was gonna say wasn't going to be a good idea.

'n/n! dai-chan and i need your help!' she exclaimed though aomine shook his head ' i beg to differ.. though i have no idea to what you are trying to do...'

he sniffed his nose after finally NOT stuffing it with his finger flicking it somewhere...

' well! i was thinking that maybeee you m/n could help dai-chan study! he really needs it and you both are basically the same though specialize in different athletics and you on the other hand are really smart n/n! dai-chan really needs it... '

momoi quickly explained the ice skater could barely keep up with what she was saying...

' i mean i guess though i don't think me and aomine get along well.. at. all. ' m/n shrugged stepping off of the ice carefully slipping them off.

his feet were stinging from the previous moves he was doing though he was used to it.

'hahh.. i mean it can be a way of bonding trust me! ' momoi grinned looking towards the tanned basketball player. 'well? what do you say! it could really help you... '

aomine only shrugged ' i don't care if i get kicked off for my grades.. their loss.. '

momoi didn't take that nicely. smacking the back of aomine head , m/n only watched mentally laughing at the basketball player as he winced.

' fine..! good god... i guess this nerd can tutor me. ' m/n kicked the basketball players leg with his barefoot. well.. not bare but you get what i mean.. hopefully.

aomine grunted smacking the back of m/n's head exactly how momoi did it. which earned a punch to HIS and M/N's head from momoi curled up fist.

'QUIT IT YOU TWO!! '

★

..hm those two are interesting.. but those two were in a room studying like momoi wanted them too.. more specifically m/ns room. It was simple , clean , and very neat a nice satisfying smell of something.. fresh? filled the room, it fit m/n perfectly.

' i cant believe im doing this... what's your grade in english hm? ' m/n had muttered the first part though it was loud enough for aomine to hear. he rolled his eyes ignoring the comment ' D ' he answered. simple and dry. that ticked the skater off though he kept his cool. ' and whats your lowest grade and your highest grade. '

' my lowest is D which is english. and highest is A in gym. ' obviously... m/n only rolled his eyes of course this hunk had an A in gym.. though its quite surprising.. this thing? having a good grade.. what a joke..

' I suppose we can start off with english.. ' ★

pov . m [ a short time skip. ]

it's warm. thats.. weird. I slowly cracked open my eyes as my vision was blurred. the room was dark , and i tried remembering what had happened. well . from what I recalled...

! ★ fb ★ !

' were done for today.. you can head home now. ' i mumbled my eyes were heavy and head was banging from how absolutely stupid this fucker was.. he can't even understand a simple equation?

'oh? that's some way to treat your guest.. its 1 am n/n. ' i scoffed. who let him called me n/n? i definitely didn't.. ' don't call me that or i'll start calling you dai from now on. get it.. because dai sounds like "die" hah... ' now I am truly losing it.

he only rolled his eyes and started.. stripping? out of his clothes only leaving his undergarments on ' DUDE WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? ' I had finally realized the situation throwing a notebook at the boy. and of course he had dodged it ' well. im sleeping over considering it's 1 am.. ' he plopped down onto my bed and I could only roll my eyes. I grabbed a pair of sleepwear heading for the showers..

as I made it to the bathroom I turned the shower on stepping into it satisfied as the steaming water hit my body.. refreshing... I reached out for the bottle of shampoo putting a small glob onto my hand lathering it onto my hair.. the smell of roses calmed me. rinsing the shampoo out I had moved onto conditioner. and then body wash. and that is to when my shower ended.

I slowly stepped out with a towel drying myself , wrapping it around my waist afterwards. I had then moved to brushing my teeth and doing skincare.

after doing such i made it to my room quietly making sure to not wake up those who slept in the other rooms. stupidly unaware of the "sleeping" basketball player who was reading porn on his phone.. disgusting. turning on the light i stared at the blue haired man who was reading a porno.. he only stared back. ' nice body.. though these bodies are nicer.. ' he flipped his phone showing me, i immediately panicked ' YOU IDIOT! ' I threw the clothes I had in hand at him .

realizing what i had done i quickly made it to him grabbing the pair of clothes and his phone shutting it off slamming it onto the desk.

proceeding to change into my clothes WITH the light off. my hair now slightly dry though still wet. ' move over or sleep on the floor. ' muttering i could hear shifting and i put my hand down guiding myself only for my hand to touch the warm skin of aomine. ' I said move over you stupid fuck.. ' I could sense him rolling his eyes and smack his arm and he lazily rolled over.

atlas I laid down on the bed getting comfortable drifting off into a deep slumber..

★

so.. that's what happenedthat's embarrassing... where is he anyway...

lifting myself up i had realized i was laying on top of the stupid basketball player..

— — — — — — — ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ — — — — — — —

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍

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leianaberrie · 7 months ago

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damon being the last villain is better then the false legend they tried claiming katherine to be at the end I still lmao at the claim katherine is some bad bi#ch I'm honestly convinced the Squirrel Elena tried eating was a badder bi#ch then katherine lol why did they have thee Malachi parker say stupid sh#t like that

Even at her worst, Katherine's biggest priorities were surviving Klaus and messing with her ex and his new girlfriend so the show trying to spin her as this puppet-master-mind was ridiculous.

Also one thing I find interesting about Katherine is how much she's presented as this femme fatale who wraps men around her finger, and Katherine obviously hypes up this reputation and wants people to think she is. But that's not really supported by the narrative:

Nadia's baby daddy: arguably, Katherine's first love and the only thing we know about him is that he wasn't there when she went through labour and had her baby ripped out of her arms.

Klaus: Katherine's second crush and the second man in her life to fake being in love with her so he could user her.

Trevor: The first man that Katherine managed to "use" but this was only after he found her for Klaus and was willing to let her die. From what we see, it's not even clear if Katherine manipulated him or he just had a crisis of conscience.

Elijah: Arguably, the first man to love Katherine without first having an agenda but he didn't love her enough to stop his brother from killing her. He just came up with a plan that he hoped would bring her back to life. Then the second time they date, Katherine's cocky to Rebekah and Elena but who ends up dumping whom? Katherine begs Elijah to run away with her, but he decides to play house with Klaus's baby mother instead.

Damon: So far the only man that Katherine manages to manipulate without first using vampire compulsion. But considering how weird Damon is about his brother's girlfriends and close female friends, I wonder how much of it was Katherine and how much was Damon just wanting what Stefan had. Also considering how quickly Damon got over Katherine once Elena - Stefan's new girlfriend - was in the picture, I wonder how much of it was Katherine at all.

Stefan: Most, if not all of Katherine manipulating Stefan was Katherine using vampire compulsion to rape him make him OK with sleeping with her and Damon at the same time. So this wasn't about Katherine being a femme fatale but her using a superpower than every vampire had.

Mason: The second man that Katherine clearly manipulated. Although again this was less about her using her beauty and charm and more about her straight up scamming him like a con-artist when she pretended to be his friend so she could instigate him to triggering his wolf curse. Mason also hid the moonstone in a well of vervain so he didn't completely trust her either.

Not counting Cade because that's obviously the show pushing that narrative but notice how only 2 people claim that Cade was Katherine's puppet. Kai - who's trying to mess with Bonnie at the time and Katherine - who of course wants to believe that she was the one using him and not the other way around. Cade himself never mentions her and everything he's trying to do is for himself. To free himself out of Hell and to get more powerful. At best, I would say he and Katherine might have a mutual alliance but considering her track record, it's far more likely that this was another man who was using her.

So yeah, Katherine as the Ultimate Big Bad never made sense. Damon was the one whose brand of evil crossed from pragmatism to petty cruelty.

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bandlecitybum · 5 days ago

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All I want. I just want to be obsessed, mutual obsession. I want to worship you mind body and soul. I want you obsessed with me, thinking of how you'll smother me all day long. be my goddess, my owner. I'm on my hands and knees desperately pleading. I'm just a simple minded puppy with only one thing on my mind. Worship. You are my goddess, my owner, my one and only fixation. Use me as you see fit. Break me until I'm yours as you desire. I want it to be impossible to think of anyone or anything else. Make it impossible for any free moment to be of thoughts other than you. I understand my job is important and requires focus but even then I need you at the back of my mind. Goddess please. I beg of thee. Let me worship you

#puppy bf #puppyboy #dumb puppy #gentle fdom #mommy k!nk #puppy sub #dom mommy #domme mommy #fdom #soft fdom #goddess worship #deity worship #puppy owner

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avdlwriting · 5 months ago

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New to ye olde Writeblr and looking for mutuals, whether from Writeblr or not, to stay motivated and read a whole bunch of stuff in the meanwhile!

Now, you, (You! Lovely individual on the other end of the screen!) might be wondering— "What have I got to gain from that? Who art thou, mysterious person? Say, I beg of thee!"

I shalt say!

🎩 I am vdL, an 18 year old Dutch writer— currently hosting my mortal flesh in the Netherlands, yippie-ya-yo!— who has yet to actually write more than ten thousand words on one story.

🎩 I mostly write and read fantasy stories, usually of the more lighthearted, whimsical variety, primarily aimed at a younger audience, though I do write (and read!) fiction (sometimes not even fantasy! I thoroughly enjoy horror and mystery novels as well.) aimed at older age groups as well.

🎩 I'm planning on writing an actual novel series once I finish my worldbuilding— wretched! Wretched worldbuilding!

Now, I hear you ask, "this all sounds marvelous! Marvelous indeed! But alas, I wisheth moreth!"

🎩 Not only shall I share my work, I will read yours as well, or watch yours, or closely listen to it, whatever medium it is in! Just like a soon-to-be-dinner fish, I'll be fully hooked.

🎩 If you ask it of me, I'll provide feedback to your stories! I can't confirm it'll be actually good, or half-way decent, but hey, it's feedback! You can print that out and eat it for dinner if your royalties come in late!

🎩 I love interacting with people, so whenever you reach out to chat, I'll be sure to interact! (Except if you're a bot or trying to flirt with me, or a bot AND trying to flirt with me. My last robot romance failed disastrously, and I'd rather not have a repeat of that.)

Of course, non-Writeblr folks are free to interact.

I look forward to meeting you!

#looking for moots #writeblr #creative writing #writeblr moots #looking for mutuals #writing #writerscommunity #author

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bizlybebo · 10 months ago

Note

For your final thoughts on PD once you finish, I present to thee:

This ramble ask

How ya feeling?

HOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHITTTTTTTTTTTT ENDYYYYY

ENDYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IT. I WAS NOTTTT EXPECTING ANYYYY OF THISSSS AAAAAAAAAAJRGBTJKWEFREGTKWEFREGTKRFGNYT

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE ASKING FOR BY SENDING IN THIS ASK. KJREHKJERHD

this is probably gonna be even longer than my ramble after completing the greyscale series so once again i dont expect you to read all of this but OHHH YM GODDD i need to dump my thoughts somewhere cause HOLY SHITTT

after writing this out i really only managed to touch on the last 2-3 episodes but yk. there are my thoughts on the ending so it makes sense. i dont think we wanna see how big my ramble on the entire fucking series could get

spoilers ahead for anyone else who sees this: literally all of prime defenders s1 and s2

ashe came home.

ashe fucking CAME HOME.

now, i had a feeling since about episode 35 that ashe was certainly coming home, because there was so much buildup, yakko did an ashe cosplay, etc. like it would have been stupid for her not to return at that point. plus i kept seeing people drawing a post-trickster ashe and was like huh.

so essentially, i thought that because i Knew, i wouldn't get blindsided by these final episodes. in fact, knowing almost made it more... bearable? i guess, because i could hold onto the light at the end of the tunnel that ashe was 100% coming home. it almost made me feel the same hope that the group was feeling about ashe, because i had that certainty and faith in the good ending.

and then william wisp fucking died. again.

i was really sleepy when i was listening to that scene but still persisting because my anxiety was slowly increasing as the episode went on, but when the trickster just. plunged his hands through william's chest i was FULLY awake just sitting in absolute shock. i'm not the kind of person to cry huge tears over media (i think the only time i non-happy cried watching riptide was ep 53), but when william died For Real i actually gave a good few sobs. i was no longer sleepy i was just in shock and then in grief.

and i was like. oh shit. maybe there is no good ending.

something like that ENTIRELY blindsided me in such a crazy way that it had me doubting ashe would even come home.

and i kept thinking, hey, no, he's risen before, he'll be okay! but then he went to the fucking spirit realm. he got dispensed there with kumori and began the first day of forever and i was like oh. shit.

william was gone.

and the REACTIONS from dakota and vyncent were both so guttural and real and true to their characters in their own ways. like so good it's nearly painful to think about.

dakota's loud. he's loud and he's rambunctious because he's dakota. he never speaks below a shout.

but when william was torn in half, he wasn't shouting, he was wailing. the absolute shock and denial he was in haunts me dude.

dakota's was begging william not to do this to him. he could forgive william for so much-- for lying to him, for not asking for his help, for fucking killing jade, but he could never forgive william for dying.

dakota's not the kind of kid to ask, y'know? if something doesn't go the way it should to him then he'll fight abrasively and outwardly for what he believes is right, or in the harder cases he'll bite the bullet and take the fall.

but here, he was pleading with william to just. not die.

and i think the final thing that shattered my faith that hey, maybe william wasn't gone was that tide was so accepting of it. he fell to his knees, he grieved and he was torn apart for a second, but then he was back up, holding dakota, going as far as to use a whole turn in initiative to only hug his boy despite the deadly circumstances. despite the world falling apart around them. to loosely quote my other mutual cayden (<333), "at the end of everything hold onto something and dakota had to hold onto tide because it was the end of everything for him" and i think that's just. the only way i can really phrase it. top 10 moments that rewired my brain chemistry

and dont get me started on dakota LITERALLY JUMPING THROUGH HELL FOR EVERYBODY. JUMPING THROUGH HELL, LOOKING THE TRICKSTER IN THE EYES AS HE DID SO. LIKE I'VE SAID THIS BEFORE BUT SOARING THROUGH THE BURNING SKIES OF THE CHAOS REALM? THE REALM THAT CORRUPTS AND WARPS EVEN THE STRONGEST DEMONS? AND STILL COMING OUT ON THE OTHER SIDE BECAUSE YOU'RE DAKOTA MOTHERFUCKING COLE AND YOU SIMPLY REFUSE TO SUCCUMB?? FUCKING INSANEEE.

and. fucking. fuck.

vyncent. MOTHERFUCKING. sol.

when i fucking catch condifiction.

vyncent sol is such an interesting fucking character. most of the time i'm like "there is something deeply wrong with him <3" in an endearing sense because yknow. he's a little strange. he's not from around here.

but oh my god.

vyncent sol, THE character development guy ever.

he starts off season 1 violent, unable to control his powers. he's violent, and he's scared, and he's homesick, and he's like a skittish dog who bites when it gets nervous because he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here.

but he changes. he grows.

he gets his closure with fauna, yeah, but then he finds a new home. he finds himself in a flying car, chasing after the fucking lich, watching william and dakota fighting in the front seat like a married couple, and he just thinks yeah. this is home.

and he doesn't quite unlearn his violence or his vengeance but they do certainly shift gears (also tidbit-- the 'fatal flaw' of justice is vengeance which is part of why i chose him for that human soul in the undertale shit i was telling you about :D).

his character is about balance. he has to learn not to be reckless and violent like in season 1, while also not apathetic and taking inaction like he did in s2 episodes 31 and 32.

at the end of everything, he protects william with his life, ready to interpose any attack. he thinks that he can do right by somebody this time, act now so that there aren't any consequences later (y'know, like he never did with jade, or ashe, or the lich).

but william. still. dies.

the sheer anger that vyncent felt in that moment was overshadowed so strongly by his grief, but it was still there. i can't even put it into words without going on a whole nother tangent but oh my fucking god. dude. vyncent sol has irreparably rewired my brain he is all i'm gonna think about.

prime defenders honestly is just THE character development show in general. i haven't even touched on william's development, on how he put faith in his friends over mal even if he knew it was going to make things much harder because he trusted dakota and vyncent so much. on how he literally got killed, repeatedly, over and over, in the spirit realm for 12 hours straight. on how he dirtied his hands during the greyscale arc out of fear.

on how he finally. stopped. running. stopped trying to escape who he was. but still won't come out of the closet

and god this is a looooong fucking ramble and i haven't even said much yet, this is only me screaming about the last two episodes really, but so much has happened in them that i just AUUUUGUGHGGHGHJKTEHRKJ

and. holy fucking shit.

JADE??? MAY STILL BE ALIVE??? D OYOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING FERAL IM GOING OVER THIS JADE CANTRIP VENGEANCE ARC. I NEEEEEED XAVIERRRR TO SEE HER AGAINNNN JADE AND XAVIER'S FRIENDSHIP MEANS SO FUCKING MUCHHH TO MEEEEE

AND ATLAS? BRO POOR FUCKING ATLAS. he really could not catch a fucking break for the ENTIRE series. when bizly started describing the 'odd fizzling' i was like 'man this guy is just going THROUGH it with his career i feel kinda bad for him' and then.

he was dead.

i think grizzly said it best, how bizly has to 'keep reminding us that prime defenders is r-rated' cause yk. the sudden violence/gore. it was so impactful you were so right when you were talking about tonal whiplash because holy SHIT.

like we were just in mario kart hell chasing after le frog who stole pizza he couldnt even eat cause he was vegetarian. and then atlas' throat was slit and he was marked with an x. (x as in xavier's vigilante persona????????RTEHRTTT$YRJHTTETR)

im just AUGUGHGHGH so FUCKING UNWELLLL OVER THIS ENTIRE SERIES. I'M SO STOKED FOR WONDERLUST BUT ALSO THAT MEANS PRIME DEFENDERS PROBABLY WON'T RETURN UNTIL THE END OF THE YEAR OR EVEN LATER.

i need a prime defenders christmas episode. dearly.

the bright side of this is that now i can write a shit ton of fic + inhale every single fic under the prime defenders tag on ao3.

but GODDD this is the most gutwrenching piece of media ever. i've never had such a strong hyperfixation since 2020 because the world is just so good. every single character and npc means the world to me. even summer and doug are constant subjects of my brainrot. even fucking lightspeed and harlem and aughughugnjtr.

thank you for the ask endy lmao im FUCKING CLAWING AT THE WALLS OVER THIS SHOW. AIUKGHEJHW

JADE CANTRIP REVENGE ARC PLSPSLPLSPLSPLSPLSPLS. I NEED HER TO COME BACK AND I NEED HER TO COME BACK WRONG AND I NEED XAVIER TO BE TERRIFIED OF HIS BEST FRIEND EVEN THOUGH IT'LL EMOTIONALLY DESTROY ME AKTJHETRKJTRWKERE

okay that's. all i can say for now

#vixen rambles #vixen answers #jrwi pd #jrwi #WEKJTHETWKJGREHTITWJKREJTYIQKJEFWRE8T90OPQEF9GRET0OE #LOSINGGG MY MINDDDD

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darsynia · 2 years ago

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Nearer, My God, To Thee | Stony | Ch. 1

STORY MASTERLIST | TONY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST NEXT

Written for ZaraMelMercury as a part of @tonysbirthdaygala

Summary: Steve Rogers appreciated his unexpected promotion to Fourth Officer-- until it became clear that it was more about being a novelty American-born officer of the White Star Line than it was about his skill at the job. After another frustrating shift attending to First Class, he was rescued by the devilishly handsome Tony Stark, a notoriously brilliant troublemaker annoyed by his own role as the most tempting eligible bachelor on the ship.

Stark suggested a mutually beneficial agreement-- Steve would stand as a duty-borne chaperone to Tony's worst tendencies, thus saving Steve from endless hours of small talk in First Class. As soon as they shook on it, however, both realized their partnership carried much more potential. Length/Warnings: 3,603 words // light D/s themes For @the-slumberparty prompt: "I'm the reason you're still alive"

Note: After years of being captivated by the wreck itself and the stories therein, I couldn't resist choosing a Titanic AU after seeing my giftee's request involving hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, and historical AU! Please note that this is not based on Jack & Rose from the film-- a Stony retelling of that already exists.

This is a fast burn, passionate romance between two people who happen to have met at one of the worst possible times. It's been pure joy to write, and I am so delighted to share it with you now!

Tags: @chickensarentcheap @linnadhiell @sobeautifullyobsessed

Excerpt:

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

Steve released the rail, noting the stiffness in his hands. “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said as he turned toward the speaker. The man was impeccably dressed, with facial hair that brought to mind a mythological satyr, but the most compelling thing about him was his eyes. Where every other inch of him spoke of elegance, class, and condescension, this gentleman’s eyes were warm and kind.

The man’s eyebrows lifted, and Steve realized he was staring. He stammered an apology using the only thing he could think of. In the handsome stranger’s breast pocket sat an elaborately embroidered handkerchief, the perfectly-even blue stitches standing out proudly in swirls and knots on the white cloth.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Oh, this old thing?” The man’s accent was American, but he affected a British one for his interruption, patting at the distinctive object. “It’s my signature. I’m never without it. Tony Stark, prince of industry, at your visual service,” he said, dipping his head in a small bow. His lips were twisted in a clearly amused smile that suited his devilish look perfectly.

Chapter One: There let the way appear, steps unto heaven

Being a Fourth Officer on the Titanic was a point of pride for Steve Rogers, even though in practice he spent more time in First Class keeping the rich passengers happy than fulfilling his maritime duties. Lightoller had already pulled him aside to ‘freshen’ his serious expressions into friendlier ones. He’d been reminded that there were no other American-born officers at his level, and that he was doing the White Star Line a service by offering their wealthy American guests ‘the sound of home.’

Steve knew better than to object that his accent had nothing to do with his skill at his job, and neither did the small talk with the Rothschilds or Astors. He kept his uneasiness at bay by stepping out onto the First Class deck space, hoping the brisk air would help calm his mood.

As always, his excitement to see his childhood friend once he arrived in New York kept Steve going; saying goodbye to Bucky Barnes was one of the hardest things about moving to London from America. Their letters to each other came few and far between, particularly now, with Buck in the Army, and Steve at sea.

For a man of limited means, working his way up at White Star was one of the only ways he could get to see his friend again. The promotion to Fourth Officer had been a last-minute surprise, but as much as he hated being cynical, it seemed that it was driven more by a hope to placate passengers than anything useful.

Once a half hour had passed, he was still frustrated. As they had the day before, the passengers outdoors had been delighted to call him over to stand quietly in his uniform as they chatted to each other. It seemed that his duty time on the bridge every day was to be his only respite from the upper classes.

“You look like you could bend metal, with a grip like that,” an amused voice said from behind him.

“Forgive me, your handkerchief has caught my--”

“Sub-Lieutenant Steve Rogers, sir. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Too late, Steve realized he used the convention of a regular introduction, not the more deferential one for men who were not equals. Before he could apologize, Stark waved him off.

“They’ve got you parading through here at every opportunity, it’s only natural you slip into a more familiar greeting. I won’t reveal your mistake if you don’t reveal mine.”

Steve was out of his element; Stark embodied a certain First Class playfulness without somehow grating on Steve’s nerves. Most of the others just gave Steve barely a glance, maybe a nod of recognition of his rank and then moved on, but not Stark.

The man in question lifted his head and sniffed in a full breath of the crisp sea air. He seemed disappointed. “You aren’t going to ask me what the mistake is, are you?”

“With respect, no sir. I am not.”

Stark’s sudden grin hit Steve in the gut in a way he hadn’t felt in years. “Good. I haven’t done it yet. I’ll let you know.”

A young woman walked over to Stark to engage him in conversation. She fully ignored Steve, which was more familiar ground. He stood politely with one hand on the railing, but to his shock, Stark reached back as though bracing himself-- except, he not quite. His hand, undoubtedly precisely placed, was now pinning Steve’s uniform cuff to the railing.

The move was so unhurried, so casually dismissive, that Steve would have been convinced it was exactly as it appeared, if it hadn’t been for Stark’s behavior in the following conversation.

The young woman was dreadfully dull, and his witting captor seemed to offload his annoyance in being stuck listening to her by feigning fascination. Every few minutes, the clever man’s hand slid further in Steve’s direction, taking Steve’s with it by necessity-- and every few minutes, the expression on Stark’s face grew more like a caricature of interest than it had before.

Tony Stark was practically embracing him by the time the young lady said something cutting and flounced off.

“That,” Stark sighed, “--was almost worth it.”

Without explaining what he meant, he stepped back and looked at Steve with a narrow-eyed speculation that made something tighten in Steve’s chest. The ache in his arm was gone in an instant.

“Am I right in assuming you’re tired of playing the toy soldier?”

The right thing to do would be to school his face to impassivity and espouse his duty, but the words died in Steve’s throat. He didn’t want to lie to Stark. Still, his loyalty was to his superiors, and--

Stark clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t choke on the platitudes, man! I understand you perfectly.”

“My apologies,” Steve tried, but the other man shushed him.

“You’re here for my amusement second, and the pride of the Line first, I know. Speaking of the former-- did you know my father is an inveterate womanizer?”

All Steve could do was work to prevent his face from showing shock. This seemed enough for Stark, however.

“I am, of course, following in his esteemed footsteps, but for some reason, my dear papa finds that irritating. He deals with it by lobbing marriageable young women in my direction at every opportunity.” Stark turned to rest his forearms on the railing. “Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other.”

Steve thought about being asked to step into a conversation with any of the young, unmarried women of First Class. The resulting nausea prompted him to turn and face the sea as well, once again gripping the metal tightly.

“Precisely!” Stark said, nudging his elbow with his own. “That was unkind of me. My intention is to ask my father to intercede, state that I’m volatile--” He stopped, pulling out a pipe to absently shift between his fingers. “I am, of course --and ask for an escort, a goodwill gesture to protect the reputations of both passengers and ship. A respectable Sub-Lieutenant such as yourself would be a fine choice, even if you weren’t begging for death with every successive minute you spend in First Class.”

A whistle sounded before Steve could formulate his response. Stark slapped his empty hand on the railing decisively, tucking away the pipe.

“The womenfolk will spruce themselves up before luncheon, meaning I am free to speak with Major Butt about getting the President’s ear for our business. I have no intention of drawing you into my scheme if you’re unwilling, so what do you say?”

Steve took a moment to contemplate, and Stark’s patience during those seconds did a lot to recommend him. The man was certainly engaging, and the respite he was offering was too enticing to give up. “If by ‘scheme,’ you mean your intention to request myself as a personal escort, sir, I am willing.”

“Good man! I’ll speak with my father, then. Do us both a favor and appear exceedingly boring and unruffled by anything I say and do, eh? In public, I mean. In private, I’d expect you to treat me as an equal.”

Stark’s warm eyes and smile of approval sparked something in Steve’s chest, something not entirely made of pride. The ‘out of his element’ feeling returned, for a different reason, now-- but this he could do. Protect this fascinating man from the very things Steve himself was intimidated by? Absolutely. Spend more time together? Please. The chance to escape the strictures of toy soldierdom was a side benefit.

“I can, sir.”

Stark almost ruined things for both of them by reaching out and grasping Steve’s hand for a second. The facade of politeness on Stark’s face faded as quickly as the veneer of cold duty did on Steve’s. There was coalfire in that grip, enough to warm his entire body.

It was sheer luck that most of the passengers had already sought to move inside, and didn’t see them.

Steve was summoned by his superiors an hour before dinner.

“You’re to have priority for laundry, Rogers, as I’m certain you have but one dress uniform, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Howard Stark has requested to speak with you, something about his son and wanting a companion among the officers to keep him in line,” Murdock said. “Tell me now if you have any objections to get out of the way before I send you down to accept?”

That was loud and clear. “No objections, sir.”

“Good. Run and change into your best, then.” The First Officer made a face as he looked him head to toe. “I’ll do my best to find you some pieces to supplement with. If you’re to spend every waking moment with that upstart son of his, you’ll need them.”

The words ‘every waking moment’ fumbled Steve’s fingers on his buttons as he changed clothing in his cramped compartment. Thanks to his efforts in keeping quiet, his sleeping crewmates barely stirred, which was the most kindness he could offer given the lamplight he’d flooded the room with. He wondered if he’d be similarly able to filter out Tony Stark’s light in the days to come. The other man had been perceptive, and his provocative questions had sent Steve’s mind reeling even before he’d realized he was physically attracted.

He’d thought those feelings were behind him, in truth. Years working his way up in maritime commerce meant years surrounded by other men, and nothing had stirred. In a few brief moments, Tony Stark had brushed away the cobwebs, shining his bright smile into the darkest corners of Steve’s mind.

Steve looked down at himself, realizing he’d paused for contemplation at the very worst of times. Well, Stark had implied he would be a bad influence.

Once finished, Steve was painfully conscious of both his need to hurry and the desire to appear calm and unruffled. After all, a hurrying seaman on a ship such as this was liable to concern the passengers, and that was not at all appropriate.

He got to the designated suite of cabins and checked his pocket watch. He was right on time, which was a relief. Steve thumbed the empty place where the picture of his mother used to reside. It fell out in Southampton, and he wouldn’t be able to replace it until he was safely back in England.

Howard Stark turned out to be the back-slapping, gregarious sort. His son was nowhere to be seen, and Steve soon understood why-- Stark Sr. wanted to give him the third degree, asking about his childhood (he dearly missed Brooklyn), his hobbies (Steve kept his sketchbook double bagged at sea), even his love life (nonexistent and not looking). As the time passed, Steve’s legs hurt from holding himself so stiffly, and the thought occurred that Stark couldn’t possibly ask such invasive questions of the young women he sent after his son.

Then again, perhaps the younger Stark was right about his father’s view of women, and he wasn’t sending them over to share Tony’s mind, just his--

An internal door burst open, revealing Tony himself, a long metal tool of some sort in his hand. “Damned thing was locked! Imagine if I had to evacuate! You might have needed to look sideways at my mother to perpetuate the dynasty.”

Howard Stark’s demeanor closed off immediately, and his eyes rolled skyward at Tony’s impudence. “The dynasty is just fine, I’m planning to entrust it to this young man’s capable hands.”

The words may have been spoken with a clear intent to chastise, but with Howard’s back turned to his son, Steve was treated to the full glory of Tony’s reaction. His eyes widened in obvious delight, and one side of his mouth turned up, emphasizing his unique goatee in a way that felt decidedly naughty.

“I hope that means I’ve met with your approval, sir?” Steve said, his heart racing in his chest at the possible double meaning.

“Did you ask him about his hopes and dreams when he was a lad?” Tony asked, coming over to look Steve over as if he were a piece of merchandise. He was carrying the handkerchief that had caught Steve’s eye, and made sure to flick it in his direction a few times, much to his father’s annoyance.

“It’s for your own good, not that you know anything about such things,” Howard griped. “Well, young man, I see that you’re in your dress uniform. Since a different officer shared our table at dinner yesterday, it will be no unusual thing for you to appear there tonight.”

“Am I appropriately dressed? I haven’t shined my shoes since we disembarked, and I--”

Tony’s hand came down on his shoulder from behind as a brusque embrace. “Oh, you shouldn’t have! He’s worried about decorum. This will be fun.” The words were dismissive, but the reassuring squeeze at his shoulder before Tony moved away hinted that it was an act.

Dinner was simultaneously boring and exciting, depending on where Steve allowed his gaze. The scattered nature of seating at the table meant that Steve was across from Tony, who was only a seat away from his father. That left Tony able to make subtle faces behind his fork which Steve was obligated to remain composed in the face of. There was something so captivating about his impropriety, the kind of freedom that Steve could only dream of having.

He ignored the number of nightmares he'd had over the years that involved breaking protocol and reaping the consequences.

Howard’s interrogation made more sense now. An impressionable, fashionable young woman with the need to make a wealthy match would find it near-impossible to resist Tony Stark’s specific charms. The question was, did Howard have other concerns? Was Steve one of a long line of ‘reputation minders?’

“Sub-Lieutenant?”

Steve started in surprise, looking up to see the entire table’s faces arrayed toward him. He’d been staring down at his bowl for so long the shape was burned in for a few seconds. Tony’s expression was smug, as though he knew he was the cause of the woolgathering.

“My apologies,” Steve said, covering his discomfort by touching his lips with his napkin.

“Not at all!” one of the women at the table said kindly. “I confess I forget the question. Someone called out your name in concern you were fatigued, I believe?”

Thinking quickly, Steve decided to go for a kind of flattery. “I’m embarrassed to say I am not. I was caught up in memories of other lively conversations, which made me think of friends I haven’t seen for a long while.”

“I hadn’t considered that!” Mrs. Astor exclaimed. “It’s much harder to see them as often, when you’re away aboard ship, isn’t it?”

The unspoken sentiment that finances were the real impediment hung uncomfortably in the air for a few seconds, and Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony as he nodded.

“The prestige of this voyage should set you up nicely for years, I imagine,” Howard remarked, and the conversation passed to other things. Steve didn’t dare look over at Tony for the rest of the meal, but after a good ten minutes of this, he did notice more noises coming from the table across from him.

The impish man seemed to be baiting him. Steve’s instincts told him he’d be most rewarded by remaining stoic, just as Tony had instructed on the deck earlier that day. It was the first time he’d chosen to be cool and professional because it was exciting, rather than out of duty.

He only slipped up once, but the image of Tony Stark slouching petulantly in his chair, a golden fork in his fingers mid-strike against his plate for the fifth time in a row was well worth the split-second glance.

Unfortunately for the man in question, he was busy speaking to his father and missed it.

When the ladies and gentlemen broke to spend time in their respective after-dinner areas, Steve made his way over to the Stark men for instructions. Tony was already agitated when he got there.

“--tedious, and you know it. It’ll be better for business if I’m not there.”

“I don’t know how you could come to that conclusion,” Howard said drily.

“Just--” Tony broke off, dropping his gesturing hand to jitter at his side. Then he caught sight of Steve. “Just send me onto the deck to ‘think about’ my behavior at dinner and let Sub-Lieutenant Rogers explain all the maritime terms until my eyelids fall off. He’ll do it, look at him! He’s a statue carved by duty.”

The sharp look Tony shot his way certainly sliced through him, but it wasn’t duty that held the knife.

“Go on, then,” Howard said, lighting his pipe. “Keep him distracted from the ladies, would you, Rogers?” he added before turning to follow the group of esteemed men heading for the smoking room.

“I’m still not looking over at you,” Steve whispered to Tony. The act of even saying that sent his heart racing, and the two of them hadn’t even defined what it was that he was avoiding.

“You’re more nervous than a skittish thoroughbred!” Tony whispered at his back, as Steve led him out onto the promenade deck. There were few others out there, but he kept walking until they were standing at a railing the farthest from the door.

He turned around and anchored himself with one hand on the metal, just as before. His heart sank to see the way his companion couldn’t stand still, his eyes darting about. Was he drunk?

“Forgive me, Mr. Stark, but were you serious about the equals thing?”

Stark clenched his jaw. “It’s Tony, and yes.”

Using his first name seemed like acknowledging that there was something unspoken, and Steve was ashamed to admit he wasn’t brave enough. He sidestepped the issue by not using any form of address at all. What he wanted to do was confront Tony about his behavior, which seemed the height of reckless disobedience, exactly the thing Howard wanted Steve to curtail. Was this some sort of game?

It wasn’t like him to risk his employer’s reputation with that kind of confrontation. “You didn’t have to do that.” Tony’s furrowed brow and possible inebriation led him to elaborate. “Compli-- Speak of me on such high terms.”

“Oh, it wasn’t just for you. I was starting to worry about whether your smile joints work. Angering my father was gravy.”

“I noticed,” Steve allowed, somewhat mollified. He looked down at his shoes. “You told me to remain impassive.”

He could hear Tony’s grin in his response. “So I did! You were magnificent.”

Did the railing just give under his hand? Because he felt he could only say something this outrageous after a clear moment of goodwill between them, Steve said, “Was that all to get a rise out of me, or your father? With respect, I don’t think I’m a good target for such things.”

Tony stepped closer, his expression sobering. After a few seconds of scrutiny, he nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your candor. Both, I’ll admit. I see now why you might have found it uncomfortable, rather than the game it could have been.” He set his hand next to Steve’s on the railing, without touching. “Can I guess at something?”

Steve nodded.

“The situation made you feel responsible for me, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe that I was misusing my power over you? In creating culpability?”

The reluctance in Steve’s tone turned it gravelly. “Yes.”

“What if I told you I preferred it the other way? That I find it exhausting to always hold the power?”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest on hearing that. In fear, yes, but also some other motivator, one that hid in the shadows of his mind, sometimes warring with his sense of what was right, what was just.

“Rogers?”

His instincts told him what to say, but did he have the strength?

“I don’t mean to talk past you, do not trouble yourself. Just a gripe on the imbalance of--”

“My name is Steve,” he interrupted Tony. “Please use it.”

He shouldn’t, couldn’t demand, even though there was every indication that Tony wanted him to. The way Tony's whole body froze still for a second made Steve question himself, but then he turned around. The look of joy and relief on his face hit Steve as hard as their first physical touch had.

Next chapter...

Note: I couldn't resist having Tony reference Major Archibald Butt, a first-class passenger and confidante of President Taft. It was the loss of his friend that had Taft so infuriated at the conflicting reports and machinations by the Marconi company regarding the messages of rescued survivors directly after the sinking. I mention it here because not everyone might know of his existence, and that's quite a last name!

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