#a small book of questions: chapter iii | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solaariia · 20 days

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the self-fulfilling prophecy and the power of the spoken word

hellour again! i’m free these days, so i’d thought i’d make another long post; this time about the self-fulfilling prophecy and how Florence Scovel Shinn writes about a similar concept in her book The Game of Life and How to Play it. specifically, in the third chapter.

i really like Scovel Shinn’s works, especially because she was one of the pioneers of the New Thought school at the time, even before Neville. it’s clear that she was a very wise metaphysical author, and more people should give her some credit!

i love my major, and i love manifestation. so any chance i have to correlate both is one i will take!

remember the academic book i got this information from is Social Psychology 11th Edition authored by Kassin, Fein and, H.R. Markus. i’ll try to condense the information to make it less convoluted and understandable.

what is the self-fulfilling prophecy?

according to sociologist Robert Merton, the self-fulfilling prophecy is a process by which one’s expectation about someone will eventually lead to that person behaving in ways that confirm those expectations. in other words, the perceiver's (person who takes note of another) expectation can actually lead to its own fulfillment, a self fulfilling prophecy.

this hypothesis actually lay dormant until Robert Rosenthal and Lenore Jacobson, published the results of their research in a book titled Pygmalion in the Classroom.

what did this study consist of? well, these researchers noticed that teachers had higher expectations for students who performed better in the classroom and they wondered whether these expectations influenced student performance rather than the other way around.

to address the question, they told teachers in a San Francisco elementary school that certain pupils were on the verge of an intellectual growth spurt. the results of an IQ test were cited, but in fact, the pupils had been randomly selected. eight months later, when real tests were administered, the "late bloomers" exhibited an increase in their IQ scores compared with children assigned to a control group. they were also evaluated more favorably by their classroom teachers (Kassin 144).

why should we be careful about what we say?

we can transform our expectations of others into reality using a three-step process:

- first, a perceiver forms an impression of a target person, which may be based on interactions with the target or on other information.

- second, the perceiver behaves in a manner that is consistent with that first impression.

- third, the target person unwittingly adjusts his or her behavior to the perceiver's actions. The net result is behavioral confirmation of the first impression.

in simpler terms, what we think is what we project onto others. that process is called the confirmation bias. this is nothing more than the perceiver asking the target person questions that confirm their beliefs. for example, if we assume that a person is in a varsity team because of the jacket they’re wearing, we will ask them things that either confirm or deny that assumption. small things like these that we do unconsciously:

“are you on the basketball team?”

“do you go to blank university?”

we can also apply this to ourselves:

(shown on a pic because i don’t wanna copy paste the info :D)

using psychology to tie into the law and my previous long post about the self-concept, we can see why words and the way we perceive ourselves is important when we reprogram our minds into thinking in a more positive light.

Florence Scovel Shinn, The Game of Life and How to Play It

chapter III, The Power of the Word

“By thy words shalt be justified, and by thy words shalt be condemned.”

what does Scovel Shinn say about the spoken word?

in her first book The Game of Life and How to Play It, she mentions a saying that reads: “man only dares use his words for three purposes: to heal, bless or prosper.” she also mentions that what man says of others will be said of him, and what he wishes for another, he is wishing for himself (Scovel 24).

“Curses, like chickens, come home to roost.”

what does this mean? well, like we saw in the bit about the self-fulfilling prophecy, what we say about others is what we attract for ourselves. for example, if we wish ill on—say—another tumblr user, we are sure to receive it as well. on the other hand, if we are kind to one another and support our journeys with manifestation, we will be able to reach our own success.

edward art mentions this too. but he calls it something more simple. love.

Scovel Shinn mentions in this chapter that when the subconscious is flooded with good things, or words in this case, the superconscious (God or imagination) and man are one.

“It is safe to say that all sickness and happiness come from the violation of the Law of Love.”

in this story she mentions an actress with a terrible skin disease:

as we can see in this story, any problems in the outside world indicate a deeper issue in the mind.

“As the within, so the without.”

why do i say that Florence Scovel Shinn’s beliefs coincide with the self-fulfilling prophecy?

we know that the self fulfilling prophecy implies that the way we perceive others is the way they will reflect on the outside. this is what the good-will Scovel Shinn mentions is about.

"But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which spitefully use you and persecute you."

conclusion

sometimes we get jealous of others' journeys. we read a success story and wonder “what am i doing wrong? maybe if i do what this person did i will manifest all my desires.” but remember we’re all different. what works for another might not work for us, and that’s okay :)

the beauty about spirituality is that we all have our own paths to follow, each with their unique experiences. trying out techniques you don’t like because you saw them in a “this is the fastest way to manifest” video will not fulfill you. and what doesn’t fulfill you will only make you give up.

i’ve seen this thrown around loablr and shiftblr, but i’ll reiterate in this post. please don’t police others on their journey. the only thing that will do is set you back.

next time you see a success story around the community, be happy for them! if anything, it’s a great thing to see on your dash because it's proof that the law always works in your favor. every time. so let’s wish each other well, practice gratitude, and focus on ourselves!

"There is peace on earth for him who sends goodwill to man!"

ps im plugging the song i listened to while writing this post because sharing is caring. take care!

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pepperonijem · 1 year

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iii. so this is my life || all my love

“So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.” -- Perks of Being a Wallflower; Stephen Chbosky

Summary: oh no it’s the “i got injured and now he has to reluctantly take care of me” trope! Pairing: high school!bucky x f!reader Warnings: harry potter mentions !! cursing Word Count: 4.5k A/N: drum major natasha is something so personal to me, so intimate

previous chapter || back to library || next chapter

“No shit,” Wanda said in disbelief as she took a sip of her milkshake. “You like actually live in the same house? Like, one-wall-apart-same-bathroom-same-dinner-at-the-same-table live together?” She reached over to grab a french fry from Steve’s plate, who slapped her hand away.

You nodded simply as you offered your plate of fries to Wanda instead. “Yeah,” you confirmed. “Crazy right?”

Wanda nodded with a scoff as she looked at Steve who was still processing your confession with wide eyes. “So wait, isn’t that incredibly awkward? Since you confessed your love for him last week?”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Don’t remind me. I literally think about that every time I see his face… which is now often. And it’s so weird because I think his dad wants us together?”

“His dad?!” Steve finally reacted, nearly choking on his shake and his eyes widened in surprise while Wanda cringed. “No way? Is he the one who took that picture of you guys? The one Bucky asked for today?”

“Yeah, it was all him. He even asked me about it the first night I moved in.” You recalled the moment as you recounted it to your friends.

When you had first entered their home, there was a banner in the foyer that read “WELCOME HOME” with Bucky and his dad standing beneath it. His dad excitedly walked over to give you and your dad a friendly hug all while Bucky watched on with a bored expression. “You can call me uncle,” he had suggested with an excited grin on his face. “Oh, it’s going to be nothing but fun times from here on out! Let me show you around.”

Bucky and his dad had completely redecorated the spare bedroom they had, not only cleaning it but making it cozy with string lights along one wall and stocking the bed with way too many pillows for just one person. There was a desk in the corner, and a small reading nook with shelves built in, with already a few books that they had around the house. It looked like it had been taken from a teenage girl’s pinterest board. Even though his son couldn’t care less about you, Mr. Barnes definitely went the extra mile to make you feel as comfortable as possible living away from your father.

After the tour, they led you downstairs where there was an elaborate dinner laid out on the table and the four of you feasted, and three of you had a lively conversation, while Bucky listened and nodded every now and then. After your dad had left and some teary goodbyes, you offered to help Bucky’s dad with the dishes, insisting that it was the least you could do after he offered to take you in on such short notice, and honestly, you were still shocked at how welcoming he was to you.

So there you were in the kitchen with your crush’s dad, still unable to fathom that you were living with him, when he snapped you out of your thoughts with a simple question. “So you and Bucky?” You turned to look at him in surprise only to catch a mischievous grin on his face as he passed you a plate to dry off.

“M-me and Bucky?” You stuttered, still taken aback by the teasing tone in her voice. “What about me and Bucky?”

He turned back to the dish at hand, but the smug grin was still on his face. “Bucky told me the two of you are in the same literature class,” he began, the direction of his words innocent, but the playful tone suggested otherwise. “Do you like him?” He asked bluntly, almost causing you to drop the glass that was in your hands.

“Sorry?” you choked out as he chuckled in response.

“I think you and Bucky would be a good fit,” he continued on. “And I’ve always wanted a daughter.” He let out a sigh, lost in his own thoughts as he scrubbed away at the plates in the sink. That conversation was only the start of the many, many hints he dropped throughout the week that he deemed you a good match for his son. Another one being the polaroid he had slipped into your backpack the night before your exam, a good luck charm, he called it.

When you finished telling your story, Wanda let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s so weird,” she mused. “Bucky’s such a cold and icy jerk, but his dad sounds so nice. Are you sure he’s not adopted or something?”

“No, he’s definitely not,” Steve confirmed. “I’ve seen his birth certificate.” He nodded as he dipped another french fry in his mixture of mayonnaise and ketchup. You and Wanda shared a confused look, asking him to elaborate. “He and I used to be best friends, remember? Before I got stuck with you goofs.”

Wanda nodded now remembering, while you protested. “Wait what? I didn’t know this?” You complained. “Why don’t I know this?” Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed as she recalled their childhood. Before her eyes lit up in recognition.

“Oh,” she snapped her fingers. “We all went to the same elementary school for a while, but Bucky’s dad moved him to a private school, and we didn’t see him again until freshman year.” Steve hummed in confirmation as Wanda explained.

“Wait, but I went to school with you guys too, I would have known him, wouldn’t I?” you asked.

“No,” Wanda corrected. “You transferred in about a month after he left. Don’t you remember? That’s how the Tasty Trio began. Steve would not stop sulking during recess for an entire month, until you came and told him that you heard a song on the radio saying big girls don’t cry and he actually stopped crying. Steve never brought him up again.”

You smiled fondly at Steve whose ears turned pink at the memory. You took an unopened straw, ripped off the top half of the wrapper and blew the other half at him, hitting him right at the top of his messy dark hair. He finally looked up and although a pout was on his face, you could see the amusement in his eyes.

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed once again. “Wait but that doesn’t explain how you’ve seen his birth certificate?” She asked Steve who was still pouting at you as you laughed.

“Oh,” Steve began. “We were pretending to be pirates one day and I told him that he couldn’t be a pirate if he was born a prince, since I really thought his house was like a tiny castle, and he dug through his dad’s office to show me proof he wasn’t a prince.” Honestly, the thought of a little Steve and a little Bucky being best friends was something you couldn’t even imagine. Steve was warm and kind, whereas Bucky was just… not. Even in the last week you’ve spent at his house, Bucky was reserved, very much unlike his father, and mostly preferred to observe what was happening than be part of it. Despite all the attention he gets from your classmates, he actually seemed kind of shy, you thought.

As the three of you laughed at more of Steve’s stories about his childhood with Bucky, you checked your phone to see that it was nearing 6 p.m. “Oh shoot,” you exclaimed. “We’re gonna be late for the game.”

The sound of cheers and brass instruments filled your ears as the three of you found seats on the bleachers. Today was the last game of the season and your school’s team was up against one of the best teams in the area, so the stadium was much more crowded than usual. You were among the sea of red and white t-shirts, facing an equally full sea of blue and yellow, and the crowds were roaring.

Normally, you would want to skip this kind of crowded event – the dread of trying to find parking outweighed any school spirit you had. But Wanda, who was part of the yearbook committee, promised to buy you and Steve ice cream afterwards if you two would come with her and help take pictures at the end of the game. So she handed the two of you cameras, and the three of you took a bus to the stadium to avoid the parking frenzy. Anything for Wanda (but seeing Bucky play football was also a pretty good bonus).

You got to the game before the end of the second quarter, giving Wanda enough time to take a few pictures of the marching band and drill team during their routines and leaving you and Steve to sit at the bleachers in her absence. While both teams were still on break, you noticed Steve looking down at the field with a nostalgic smile and wistfulness in his eyes. “Do you ever miss playing, Steve?” you asked.

He let out a sigh before answering. “I mean yeah, kind of,” he began. “I miss playing and the guys mostly, but do I miss the amount of time it took out of my life? Absolutely not.” For the last three years, Steve was one of the stars of the school’s varsity football team, co-captains with Tony. So it was a huge surprise to everyone when he announced his absence this year in favor of taking honors English literature as well as culinary basics. He didn’t talk about football much, but clearly, he did miss it.

“Well,” you said. “Me and Wanda are glad to have you on the bleachers with us.” You leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder as he leaned his own head down on top of yours. You pointed out over at the bench where the football players were as Wanda shared a laugh with Clint and Rhodey, the student medics for the football team. “She’s supposed to be taking pictures, right?” you let out a chuckle as you pulled your phone out to text her. You watched as she looked down at her phone with a chuckle, showing the message to her friends who laughed along, and the next thing you knew, she had the lens pointed up at you and Steve. She held out her hand in front of the lens to make a small heart as you and Steve reached your arms over your heads to make your own heart. You made a mental note to ask her for the picture later.

For the rest of the game, the mood on your side of the bleachers was quite festive in celebration of the big lead your team had. Bucky, Tony, and Peter were leading the offense. Everyone was chanting Peter’s name, the freshman quarterback who was supposed to be going pro after high school, but you could not keep your eyes off Bucky the entire time. The band was playing every hit they had, the cheer squad led the fans through every chant they knew and the energy was high, everyone knowing the win was secured. So by the time Wanda had come up and given you two your roles – you were to take pictures and videos of the post-game team huddle and Steve was sent to take pictures of the final touchdowns – you and Steve had lost your voices, but nodded enthusiastically.

To get the best angle of the team’s huddle, you made your way down to the drum major’s podium where head drum major Natasha was standing, giving instructions to the band in front of her who was beginning to pack up. “Hi Natasha,” you greeted her once she finished. She gave a friendly wave in response. “Do you mind if I get up there so I can get a better shot?”

She smiled and nodded as she bent down to help you up the ladder. “Sure thing,” she agreed. “Just make sure you tell Wanda to put in some good shots of me in the yearbook. I want a whole page this year.” She chuckled as you promised to relay her request, and she climbed down the stairs, reminding you to be careful as the stand was kind of wobbly.

You looked towards the football team who were all huddled right in front of the podium around Tony, who was leading the team in a very sentimental talk about how glad he was to have been the captain of such a strong team. Tony (and Steve) had led the team to become the top football team in the region for the last two years, and to say the guys on the team were grateful was an understatement. They all cheered and wrapped him in a tight embrace as they cheered for him, and when he gave Bucky a shoutout for playing extra well this season, you couldn’t help but snap a picture of the shy smile that appeared on his face. Tony ended the talk with a loud team chant as the boys erupted in applause, and laughed as Peter then immediately grabbed the nearest cooler and dumped its contents on Tony.

You cringed a little at the splash of lemon-lime Gatorade that had made its way to your shirt, but let out a laugh as you watched a Gatorade-soaked Tony chase around his teammates for hugs. This was going to be great footage for Wanda, and you were excited to share it with her.

However, as you were making your way down the podium, you felt the unmistakable slickness of Gatorade on the rung and let out a quiet “Oh shit,” as you fell past the rest of the ladder and onto a puddle of the same beverage on the ground, landing in a position that was definitely not good for your ankle or the jeans you were wearing.

Tony and one of his friends who had stayed to watch Tony’s final football huddle, Sam, who you also recognized as Bucky’s friend, were the first to come check on you. “Shit,” Tony exclaimed. “Are you okay?” He reached down to try to help you up but stopped when he noticed your swollen ankle. He turned to Sam, asking him to go get Rhodey. Sam nodded in response and ran, immediately shouting his name. At this point, Steve and Wanda who were already beginning their walk back to you heard the commotion and began running, calling your name.

By the time Rhodey, Wanda, and Steve got to you, the whole football team was looking at you in concern. Tony was standing towards the back of the group scolding a remorseful looking Peter, who dumped the cooler, about why it’s dangerous to be dumping Gatorade on people while Bucky watched the two with amusement. Rhodey knelt down beside you, removing your shoe and sock and tenderly touching the injured part of your ankle, checking for any bone fragments.

“Well it’s definitely swollen,” he diagnosed. “Did you happen to hear a crunch or anything when you fell?” He gently moved your foot around, noting how you winced at the action. You shook your head no as he continued. “Okay, that’s good. It seems like it’s just a sprain then.” Peter looked more relieved than you did, wincing when Tony swatted him on the back. Rhodey and Tony helped you to stand and move to the bench. Sam handed you an ice pack as Rhodey wrapped your foot in a bandage and gave you instructions. “Make sure not to put any weight on your foot, and ice it as much as you can. When you get home, try to keep your foot elevated. How are you getting home though?”

You heard Steve silently curse himself for not taking his car today. “We took the bus today,” you answered Rhodey. “I was just going to take the bus back home with Wanda and Steve.”

Rhodey hummed in response. “Can you call anyone to come pick you up instead?”

Wanda snapped her fingers, an idea coming to mind. She turned to Bucky with a mischievous smile and asked, “Don’t you guys live together? Why don’t you take her home?” You could see both Steve and Bucky cringe at the question, while the other boys looked on in confusion.

“You live together?” Rhodey asked with a smirk as he looked at Wanda who nodded in confirmation. “That’s perfect then. Bucky, take her home. Doctor’s orders.” The other boys murmured in agreement, still shocked at the revelation.

Your face went red as you looked over to Bucky, trying to read his face. Realizing he was outnumbered, he let out a sigh as he reluctantly agreed. The boys collectively sighed in relief, and you realized how surprised you were at how concerned about you they actually were. They all patted Bucky on the back as they started to finally disperse, promising to save him some pancakes as they made their way to the parking lot. Steve and Wanda both bid you good night, Wanda giving you a sly wink as she led a pouty Steve to the bus stop, leaving you and Bucky alone on the field.

He grabbed your camera and the rest of your belongings, slinging it over his shoulder, as he offered his hand out to you. You felt your cheeks turn pink as you put your hand in his calloused one. He helped you to stand and immediately wrapped his arm around your waist and you felt your heart race at the contact. “I can’t believe I’m missing my last IHOP night for this,” he grumbled, starting to walk.

In spite of your nervousness, you couldn’t help but let out a snort at his comment, at which Bucky glared at you. “IHOP?” you repeated. “Is the football team secretly full of theatre kids?” Bucky rolled his eyes as you teased him. “Do you guys sing songs obnoxiously loudly in front of the other customers too? In that case I can hop my way home.” Bucky’s refusal to dignify your question or your pun was betrayed by the shade of red that his cheeks turned as you let out a laugh that quickly turned into a hiss of pain as you struggled to keep up with Bucky’s pace. He stopped and turned to you, his hand slipping from your waist, but reaching up to your arm to keep you stable.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the sudden gentleness and concern in his voice catching you by surprise. For the first time tonight, you got to see him up close – the tiredness in his eyes, and the sheen of sweat still on his forehead, and his dark, disheveled hair – illuminated by the stadium lights. He must have been tired this week after staying up to tutor you every night. You couldn’t help but feel a twang of guilt in your chest.

You stammered as you replied, the nervousness creeping back up. “I- you’re walking too fast. I can’t keep up.” Once again, you were surprised to feel Bucky’s grip on your arm relax just a little as he let out a chuckle despite himself.

“Scott says the same thing to me sometimes,” he replied, shaking his head. He let go of your arm, securing your camera strap around his neck and putting your own belongings into his duffle bag as he turned his back to you and crouched down. You froze, standing on one foot, unsure of what was happening. He let out a sigh. “Well? Get on. We won’t make it to my car until tomorrow if we have to walk at your pace.” You hopped your way over, and once Bucky was sure your arms were securely around his neck and his arms under your legs, he set off and you prayed that he couldn’t feel just how fast your heart was beating behind him.

Honestly, this was not how you thought your night was going to go. Although you had been in Bucky’s car every morning since you moved in, the silence between the two of you this time was different. Comfortable, even, and you hoped he couldn’t hear how quickly your heart was beating. Both hands on the wheel, Bucky was focused on the now empty roads in front of him as he carefully drove home. You looked at him, so mesmerized by his features illuminated every so often by the warm glow of the streetlights, that you almost missed the start of your favorite song.

“So you don’t normally drive in silence?” you asked him teasingly.

“I do, actually,” he replied and you let out a quiet “oh,” before he continued. “I like silence when I’m on my way to school, it helps me think through my plans for the day. But when I’m driving at night…” he cleared his throat as if embarrassed to admit something to you.

“What about it?” You asked curiously. If the lights had brightened the car just right, you would have been able to see the blush on Bucky’s cheeks before he finally finished his thought.

“Well,” he began quietly. “It makes me feel like I’m in a movie. Especially when I drive through that tunnel.” You couldn’t help but smile as you reached up to press the button to open the moonroof in his car, drowning out his protests as you also turned the music up all the way as you entered the warmly lit tunnel.

Bucky looked at you incredulously, but couldn’t help himself from smiling as you opened the window to reach your hand out. It definitely was just like a movie and for the first time since you came into his life, he was glad to surrender his routines to you.

He didn’t bother to close the windows even after leaving the tunnel, choosing instead to continue driving with the music all the way up. You were surprised to hear quite a few of your own liked songs come on the speakers, but not as surprised as Bucky was to see how much music taste you had in common.

The rest of the drive was filled with the same wistful feeling as a coming-of-age movie, and before you realized it, he was parked in the driveway of his home. He turned off the engine and before you could attempt to wobble your way out of the car, he had opened your door and grabbed your things, assisting you once again with a soft “Let’s go.”

You wondered if this was what it would be like to come home after a date. You blushed at the thought, Bucky’s arm firmly but gently wrapped around your waist, walking you up the front steps. It was easy to imagine it, the idea of going out to a diner and talking and laughing for hours then driving together, taking all of the side streets and hitting all of the red lights just to hold onto each other’s presence just a little more. But the throbbing in your right ankle snapped you out of your imagination just in time for Bucky to get the door open.

“We’re home,” Bucky called to the dark house. “Huh,” he thought aloud. “I guess no one’s here.” He walked over to the kitchen counter to find a sticky note and a few dollar bills beside it. Bucky read the note aloud to you. “Hey kids! I went out with some friends. Congrats on the win! Buy yourselves some pizza and I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Bucky rolled his eyes as he grabbed the dollar bills and started typing on his phone.

“Does he go out like that often?” you asked. Bucky nodded as he continued to search through his phone.

“Yeah, it’s normal,” he confirmed. “Is pepperoni pizza okay with you?” When you nodded he asked what drink you wanted as he finished typing in your orders before walking towards the cabinet to grab a pain killer and a glass of water, handing both to you. “I’ve sprained my ankles countless times. This helps, trust me. But it might make you a little bit sleepy.” Once you finished your water, he helped walk you upstairs to your room, promising to come back and get you once the pizza arrived.

Now in the comfort and privacy of your own room, you reach over to your nightstand drawer and pull out the letter you had written to Bucky. It had only been a few weeks, but it felt like so much longer. Rereading the words you had written, you felt yourself cringing in response, and you realize just how much has changed in that time. Replacing the letter back in its envelope, you close your eyes and let out a dreamy sigh, letting yourself come back to the fantasy of you and Bucky coming home together from a date, not knowing how long it was before you fell into a slumber, still dreaming about Bucky, who in your dream was confessing to you.

When your eyes fluttered open once again, you were surprised to see a pajama-clad Bucky leaning against the doorway running a towel through his freshly washed hair. “You’re finally up,” he stated. “You hungry?” and as if on cue, your stomach let out a rumble as you sat up.

Downstairs, Bucky helped to heat up your pizza as you sat at the island watching him quietly. The TV was playing what sounded like a Harry Potter movie in the living room, but other than that and the soft hum of the microwave, it was quiet. Once again, you realized just how absurd it was that just last week Bucky turned you down, and now you were sitting in his kitchen as he prepared your dinner. Bucky’s words snapped you out of your thoughts. “You can stay in the living room if you want.” You looked up at him as he continued. “So I don’t have to keep missing my movie to see if you’ve somehow fallen and died.” You couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle, surprised to see Bucky’s lip quirk up in semblance of a smile as well. After helping you to the living room, he helped prop your feet up on a few pillows and took a seat on the opposite side of the same couch.

The movie continued for a while as the two of you sat in silence before you spoke. “So are you a Harry Potter fan then?” you asked. Bucky nodded in response, not bothering to look away from the screen. “Do you like the books better or the movies?” Now he looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“The movies, actually,” he replied without hesitation. This sparked a debate that got much more heated than you anticipated and before you realized it, you and Bucky were yelling back and forth, the whole scene looking much sillier than either of you realized. You were yelling at him, still unable to really sit up, and Bucky was leaning forward to keep eye contact with you from around your foot which currently was propped up in between the two of you and careful to not move the stack of pillows.

You let out a huff. “You know what, James Barnes? You must really hate me if you think I could ever associate with anyone who thinks it was a better creative choice for Dumbledore to yell at Harry.” Bucky let out a petty laugh as you tried and failed to turn away from him.

“Sure,” he replied with a cocky grin that you wanted to smack off his beautiful face. “Well, haven’t you heard? The person you hate the most could end up becoming the one you end up loving the most.”

You were 100% sure he was just kidding, but damn, you thought. What if?

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chasesylvan · 3 months

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Uprise to My Voice

🚨THIS FIC HAS A LOT OF NAUGHTY SCENES IN IT BUT, AS ALWAYS, NOTHING TO LEADS TO SEX, MASTURBATION IMPLIED BUT DOESN’T HAPPEN ON SCREEN 🚨 they’re just horny boys, what can i say? 🤷😌

CHAPTER 3!! YAHOOOO

After their movie night together, they all just decided to sleep in III and Rain’s room, not having the effort nor energy to walk back to their own rooms, and because there was 3 beds in their hotel room, for some reason, both bassists shared one bed, both guitarists shared a bed, and the drummer and rhythm guitarist shared a bed and they all slept peacefully through the night.

Morning dawned on them, all of them not wanting to get out of bed, too comfortable in their embraces with each other. Sounds of discomfort could be heard coming from IV and Dew’s bed, Dew accidentally having kicked IV in the middle of the night and IV registering the pain now in his midsection, “I’m sorry, honeybun, I have a habit of kicking in the night, are you okay?” Dew asked the poor guitarist in pain, IV giving a thumbs up, still gripping his midsection from the pain of Dew’s foot having been shoved into it in the middle of the night. II had gotten up from Phantom’s embrace, needing the bathroom and wanting to make tea for everybody, as this was his daily routine back at the manor with his boyfriend’s.

So he got up, chucked on some loose track pants and a t shirt, and went to the bathroom to pee. After he was done and washed his hands thoroughly, and walked out of the bathroom and to the small kitchen, the hotel that was booked for them had rooms that resembled apartments, but were still small enough to be considered a hotel room, II started making III and IV’s teas, the guitarist drunk a herbal floral tea, and the bassist drunk just a plain tea. He himself had a cinnamon and apple tea, he decided to leave the Ghost members as he didn’t wanna wake them from their sleep, deciding to let me make their own teas.

He finished making them by the time everyone had woken up, III walking over to II and wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him on the cheek, thanking him for his tea. IV also walked over and gave II a kiss on the lips and a quiet ‘thank you’ fell from his lips, they both walked over to the small lounge area and sat down, humming happily and drinking their teas, making the drummer smile warmly. After about 15 more minutes, both Rain and Dew finally woke up, Dew having fallen back asleep after waking up to IV’s grunts, and they got up to make their coffees.

Dew walked over to IV first, giving him a quick kiss on the lips, tasting the floral and flower taste from his tea. Then he walked back over to make his coffee, kissing Rain on the cheek, “Morning, Rainy.” Dew said in a gravely voice, “Morning, Dewy.” Rain said back in the same tone. II was drinking his tea when he felt hands on his hips and he turned around to meet the rhythm guitarist in a surprise kiss, “Good morning, kelpie.” II blushed at the nickname, kissing Phantom back, “Morning, bug.” They both smiled warmly at each other, all of the musicians drinking their beverages, it being about 7:30 in the morning. Their show today was at 8:30pm, so they had a while but the trip there would take them about 3 hours, so they had to leave by 1pm to get everything set up.

IV perked up and went to put his cup in the sink, kissing II on the lips as another thank you for the tea, watching the blush spill down his face, “You’re so adorable, Two.” IV caressed the smaller man’s cheek, causing a sparkly look to appear in his sky blue eyes, enamouring IV into staring into them and smiling wide at II, causing the drummer to hide his face in the nape of the taller man’s neck, pulling a giggle out of him at II’s reaction. IV kissed him softly again before walking back over to the lounge and sitting down, leaning against the fire ghoul, who threw an arm over his shoulder.

III started speaking, “What should we do for the morning before we leave, guys?” III questioned all the men in the room, Rain perking up, “We could pack everything up now so we don’t have to worry about it right now?” He said to everyone, being the most mature of all, everyone agreed, as packing up right now would cause them less issues so they weren’t being rushed around by crew members at 12:40pm, yelling at them that they should’ve packed earlier.

III and Rain worked together by making all the beds nice and neat, II cleaned up the kitchen and washed all the cups from everyone’s tea and made the kitchen look tidy so the cleaners didn’t have to worry about it, Phantom and Dew packed their bags up and left them by the front door, II, III, and Rain packed their bags after finishing their tasks, and now the room looked spotless and all their bags were packed, ready for when their tour bus arrives to pick them up.

“Good job pitching in together everyone.” Rain said, proud of everyone getting the room clean in a short period of time, III kissed his cheek and leaned into him, “You did a good job as well, koi.” Rain blushed at the nickname given to him, III kissed the water ghoul, making more blush spill down his face, Rain stumbled back, but III caught him by the waist, holding his hips down and pushing him slightly against the wall, earning a surprised moan from within the ghoul’s chest. The other men in the room didn’t know where to look or what to do, so they decided to just sit on their beds on their phones, ignoring the two having a ‘moment’ together.

Rain started moaning when III slotted a knee between his legs, capturing the ghoul against the wall, and started kissing him more passionately and roughly, III was enjoying the sounds being elicited from the ghoul against him, “Yeah, that’s a good boy, Rainy.” III said, his voice syrupy and sweet, possessing Rain’s thoughts and feelings. Rain kept rutting against the taller bassist, the taller man could feel Rain getting closer, but because of how cruel he was, he pulled off of Rain, destroying his path of an orgasm. Rain was breathing heavily against the wall, frustrated that his orgasm was denied, and went and started hitting III on the back, doing no damage as the taller bassist just chuckled.

“Why do you keep doing that to us? You absolute monster!” Rain said, still achingly hard in his jeans, III just shrugged, “I don’t want you ruining those nice black jeans of yours Rainy, besides,” III went over and hooked 2 fingers under Rain’s chin and forced his head up to look III in the eyes, pulling a soft moan from the shaken and slightly frustrated ghoul, “It brings me pleasure to see my partners so hard and so submissive for me when I deny them their reward,” III said the last of his sentence in a dark tone, leaving Rain wide eyed, he decided to go into the bathroom and finish himself off on his own, III chuckling darkly at the thought that Rain is finishing to the thought of the taller bassist.

IV walked up and smacked III on the ass, him flinching in pain and rubbing his sore ass, “Ivy what the fuck was that for?” IV laughed, but not in a mean or taunting way, and did it again, III turned around and grabbed IV by his neck, his cheeks turning pink and his legs starting to shake, “You want me to wreck you and leave you to fend for yourself like I did to Rain?” III said, dark and mischievously, the guitarist moaned and whimpered at III’s harsh words, IV shook his head no. The taller man kissed IV, rough and passionately until he left IV, standing there on shaky legs and half-hard in his pants, “Hm, seems like I have an effect on all of you when it comes to this,” III said to the rest of them casually. II wide eyed and palming himself, while Phantom and Dew stood to the side, eating a bag of chips each, ignoring what was going on.

IV decided to leave his hard-on alone and sit down, now having the shits, “Ivy.” III said to him, earning a ‘hmph’ in response, “What’s wrong, wildflower?” III asked, genuinely, he could tell that the guitarist now had the shits with him, IV prone to getting angry easily when stuff didn’t go his way. The tall bassist walked over to him, lifted him up by his armpits and stood him in front of him, “Look at me.” III said, his tone firm and steady, IV looked up to III, his baby green eyes glistening from the sun slightly shining in them.

He slowly kisses Ivy softly, the guitarist melting into the soft and sweet touches of his bandmate, “I’m sorry for doing that, okay?” III brushed hair behind IV’s ear, genuine guilt for causing IV to have the shits with him, “‘s okay,” IV said, III pulled him into a hug and kissed the top of his head and pulled away, slightly wiping his cheek.

“I love you, Ivy.”

“I love you, sunflower.”

Phantom had finished his chips and was starting to get slightly jealous of the scene happening in front of him. II noticed this and walked over to Phantom, pulling him down into a heated kiss, Phantom let out a surprised whimper but wasn’t complaining about the moment happening right now, II pushed the taller ghoul against the wall, them both fighting for dominance, II winning, surprisingly. Phantom wasn’t done yet though, he flipped them around and pinned the drummer’s hands to the wall and knocked his legs apart, them starting to shake as well, II letting out small moans and whimpers every now and then.

“Look how pretty you are, Two.” Phantom cooed at the drummer against the wall, in his own blissful world, eyes fluttering shut and lips swollen from the abuse of Phantom’s lips on his, chest heaving heavily. Phantom walked towards the smaller man, wrapped his long fingers around his tender neck, which brought a moan from within his chest, “You’re so pretty, wound up in my control, you’re such a good boy, Two.” II shuddered from the praise he was receiving, Phantom kissed the blissed out look from his face, II absolutely melting in the taller ghoul’s embrace. Phantom giggles at how easily II is affected by the quintessence ghoul’s actions.

II is so blissed out by what happened, that he doesn’t realise that all of them had been looking at him, feeling slightly embarrassed, he covers his crotch with his hands when he feels himself getting hard, Rain is out of the bathroom as well, when did he get here? II wondered what the time was, looking over at the clock on the wall, it reading ‘12:13pm’, they still had about 30 minutes before they needed to start getting ready to leave and be ready for the tour bus to pick them up, so they decided to order one last room service for lunch and watch films until about ‘12:35pm’, they all got their suitcases and bags ready, they all brushed their teeth, did their hair, they all peed one by one before they left, knowing that they won’t be stopping at all for any breaks.

One of the crew members came by, knocking on all the doors telling all of the guys that they need to be by the bus in 10 minutes, so everyone gathered their things, made sure nothing was left behind and walked out of the hotel room, to the elevator and down to the lobby to return their key cards. Once all of the room keys were returned, they walked out and saw their massive black tour bus, they gave all of their luggage to a crew member, and they all single filled onto the bus, each of them had an assigned bunk on the bus, titled with their name on the top of the bunks. IV went and sat at the small table near the kitchenette, having a small bottle of coke in hand, taking small sips from it.

Dew went over and joined the other guitarist, cuddling up against his side. IV snuggled into the fire ghoul, happily humming, while the rest of the guys had sat on the other 2 lounges, III cuddling up against Rain and II sleeping against Phantom, the tall quintessence ghoul rubbing up and down his sides soothingly, the drummer happily humming in his seat, Phantom smiling at the comforting aura he shot through to everyone, and all the people on the bus audibly relaxing from Phantom’s calm and content aura flowing around the bus.

The bus started up and they were off on their journey to their venue for their next big show together, Vessel starting to notice that his lovers were spending a lot of time with the other band, he wasn’t jealous in the slightest, their relationship was very open, allowing each other to hook up and sleep with whoever they wanted without each other getting jealous and the possibility of a fight causing a breakup, so they made the decision to go with being in an open relationship. Vessel smiled at his other lovers, them catching his toothy grin and smiling warmly back to him. IV began whining for some reason and could not stop moving, III noticed and held his leg from bouncing, “Wildflower, what’s wrong?” III asked the squirming man, “N-Nothing.” He said softly, and stopped wiggling around for a max of 10 minutes, before he was wiggling around again, “Dude, don’t fucking lie to me, what’s wrong?” III wasn’t getting annoyed with the guitarist, he just wanted to know what was wrong and why he kept on wiggling around, “I need a fucking piss!” He screamed, startling II out of his sleep, “Ivy, why the fuck are you screaming?” The drummer said, in his drowsy state, being awoken from a very comfortable nap on Phantom’s chest. “Sorry, love,” He replied to II, who scoffed and tried going back to sleep, “There, you happy? I downed my coke too quickly and now I need a piss!” He said, softer but still quite loud, “Dude, you knew we weren’t stopping, and you pissed before we left! How weak is your bladder dude?” III didn’t mean to sound like he was mocking the poor guitarist, the guitarist growled at his bandmate and Dew started giggling at IV, IV smacked him in his chest quite hard, who yelped and moved away to avoid more torture from the angered man next to him. "I know dude, I'm just gonna have to wait until we get to the venue.* IV whined, but dealt with it for the last 25 minutes, utterly in discomfort the entire time, Dew comforting him slightly.

They finally arrived at the venue that they are going to be performing at and the moment the bus door opened, IV hopped up from his seat and rushed out of the bus, hurriedly looking for the men's bathroom but having trouble, a crew member came over to him, "Hey IV, do you need some help?" IV looked to the crew member in desperation, "Where are the toilets?" The guitarist asked, quite literally in a hurry, the crew member pointed to a part of the venue, and IV instantly rushed over there to deal with his issue. III laughing at his bandmate's misery, but IV didn't need to hear or need to know that he did, after about 20 minutes of helping get both III and IV's guitars out of the bus, hurrying footsteps could be heard and IV returned back from the bathrooms, having a blissed out expression on his face, III smirked and looked at his bandmate, "Feel better, Ivy?" He asked the guitarist, slightly giggling at the shorter man, who started helping to move all of his guitars out of the bus, "Much." He replied, in a tone that made III stunned. Everyone chipped in to help move Mountain's massive drumkit and bring it into and out onto the stage, as there was already a drum kit set up in the rehearsal room for them, it was the only equipment that had to be brought out and onto stage. IV ran into II, who grabbed him by the arm and spun him around to face the shorter male, "Hey, Ivy." II said, in a syrupy and sickly tone, which made shivers run down the guitarist's back, "H-Hey, baby." IV replied back, a bit nervous.

"So, you're gonna make up for waking me earlier on the bus." The drummer said, in a dark voice, making the guitarist melt into the shorter man's arms, whimpering softly. "Y-Yeah." The guitarist whimpered at the thought of what II would do to him, he started by backing the guitarist up against the wall and softly grabbing his toned hips and whispering into his ear, "I'm gonna make sure you have my taste all over your lips, so you're not gonna forget what I taste like." II slightly moaned into his ear, making IV's legs go weak under him, the drummer kissed him harshly, making IV let out a moan, then pulled off and smirked at the taller man, pulling him with him towards the back of the venue and entered through the back doors and brought him to their rehearsal room, where everyone was waiting, "Sorry for the hold up guys, IV tripped over a cable on the ground and needed help getting up, everyone nodded and went back to practicing or tuning their instruments.

It was finally time for them to go on stage and play their final show before their massive break, III was messing around with Rain, IV was messing around with Dew and Phantom was lingering around II's place on the drums and Swiss hanging out around the ghoulettes, them all dancing around during the songs, taking breaks during their interludes, kissing each other and praising each other on how good their playing is so far during the show. They were finally on their last song, running high on adrenaline and silliness during The Offering, messing around and causing shenanigans, III had gone up to IV and kissed him on the lips and went over to Rain and kissed the side of his mask as well, Rain blushing under his mask and III smiling darkly as he walked off. They had finally finished the song, ending with them handing out various gifts to the audience members and standing for a final "curtain call", holding each other securely and bowing at the end, Vessel walking to the middle of the stage and bowing, thanking everybody for coming to their show and they walked off, still high on adrenaline and bodies full of energy.

#chase writes #sleep isn’t your only friend #sleep token #the band ghost #fic #ii #iii #iv #vessel #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss army ghoul #nameless ghoulettes #nameless ghouls #ENJOY PEOPLE!

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camusscigarette · 4 months

Text

Violets for Roses

Chapter III: Sinful berries mixed with the bitterness of one's ‘cum-scientia’

(Smut. 'Cause I was noticed by my Tumblr crush but not concerning the story ,rather the fanart of it. But it's okay, improvements.)

(I can not write smut it seems. Anyways)

TW: Torture in a flash back.

❦

Soon enough, their dance came to a halt when the music stopped. They still remained in each other's arms, their bodies had moved closer to one another as they stared silently into each other's eyes. Everything at that very moment was intimate between them. Oddly enough, and to Bedelia's own surprise she was comfortable in that very moment.

"I've noticed that you have The Original Copy of the Kamu Satra in your library" He said with a small smirk as he dipped her to a nonexistent symphony playing in his head.

She had to give it to him and his watchful eye. But it truly seems like men only think from their stomachs and their penises, or else, why would he have felt the need to point it out now? A small smirk grew on her lips as he pulled her back up and began to sway with her once again as another soft symphony began to play in the background.

"I do, yes" She said simply, her eyes narrowing slightly as she stared into his eyes for a moment before she chose to go with a risky question and ask "Why? Intrigued?" And bingo. There it was. The sudden desire ignites in his eyes like Fireworks on New Year's Eve.

"I find ut fascinating that a woman as reclusive and very rarely sexually driven as yourself would own such a book" He said simply with a small chuckle. "No judgement intended, Doctor. I am simply intrigued, as you said."

"Well..I find such books to be rather vulgaire at times, but I do consider sex to be an art. Like painting, writing and so on. Sex is an art. Not everyone is good at it. And one can easily get creative with their positions, non?" She asked him ever so innocently, her eyes holding a certain spark in them that told him quite a lot of things, but at the same time, none.

"You are quite the confusing woman" He said as he twirled her and pulled her closer to him with one swift movement, their chests pressed to one another.

"Mhm" She only gave him a slight hum as her eyes stared into one eye, his lips, and then right back to the other eye they went. She wanted fun tonight.

"Have you ever practiced any of the positions in that book?" He asked her curiously with an expressionless face.

"I have. Quite the few actually in my younger days"

"And why not now?"

"Self pleasure is much more fun when you're well equipped" She said with a smile that threw him off guard.

He knew that Bedelia enjoyed herself at times, who didn't after all? But to see her say it so bluntly stirred something inside of him, something such as arousal.

"How so?" He asked her ever so quietly.

"Technology evolved rather well, don't you think?" She said with a raised brow as a small chuckle escaped her lips.

His eyes widened slightly and the image of her pleasuring herself made his pants feel a bit more tight than usual, giving her a small nod as he processed her words. "Mhm, yes"

"But I find myself getting lonely at times" She whispered in a husky tone, her hand that was on his shoulder sliding to his chest. "Don't you as well?" He knew better than to fall for that. And he didn't. But damn it did he ache to feel her withering beneath him.

"Mhm" He hummed again, leaning in to whisper in her ear "I can fix that" And with that he pulled back and twirled her one last time before he pulled her roughly into him, his hands gripping her hips and pressing them into his. It was a hunger he couldn't tame. Neither with human flesh nor with meaningless sex. He ached to taste her on his tongue, and his mouth. Ached for a saltiness mixed with natural musk. Famished and lust driven.

She wrapped her arms around him and lead in ever so slowly to the couch behind her, forcing him to take a seat as she sat in his lap, stranding him in the process. "Something like that?" She asked him in a sultry whisper, her sharp nails grazing his Adams apple.

"Yes" He couldn't help but groan, feeling her weight on his lap, his erection growing and his pants becoming more than simply uncomfortable.

She let her hands trail all over his chest, watching him carefully as his pupils dilated and his hips jerked almost unnoticeably beneath her own.

And like a hungry beast, having had finally captured it's prey, Hannibal's lips attacked Bedelia's own. A battle of tongues and teeth. Nipping on each other's flesh. Tasting not only their saliva but also their blood. The sound of suckles and moans filling the room. Hands exploring one another's bodies until eventually he had her pinned to the couch despite a sound of protests.

But he did not care.

He wanted her.

He had to have a taste.

With his lips leaving hers and moving onto her neck, he latched onto her skin almost immediately. Her head tilted backwards to allow him the space he needed to explore her flesh.

His teeth sunk into her skin and her mouth opened in a silent scream though a moan escaped her lips. With her fingers tangling into his hair a slight gasp came from her as his hands began to hike her skirt up to her waist, and his kisses grew sloppier and wetter as he moved down her chest.

"Hannibal—" She gasped, feeling how hard he was, his erection pressed into her panties, their clothes rubbing uncomfortably around one another.

He did a swift job of getting her blouse undone while she worked on his, ripping it off rather roughly while he worked delicately. His chest was exposed and Bedelia could see the beads of sweat forming at the hairs there, while his chest heaved with each breath. She on the other hand was half naked as his hand sneaked behind her back to unclasp her bra. But his mouth found her clothed breast and bit into it, a small whine escaping Bedelia's lips as she tightened her legs around him.

"Our mouths were always meant to taste the human body" He whispered against her skin, moving away the bra and throwing it over his shoulder as he finally exposed her breasts to him. Taking it the sigh like the greatest treasure known to man kind, his hand already squeezing and teasing one of her ample mounds while his tongue latched onto her other.

"Dieu Christ.." She breathed out, her hand not leaving his hair as she pulled at them.

His warm tongue circled her nipple before he pulled his mouth away and gently blew onto it, watching it harden and noticing how her body shivered in anticipation. And with that, he bit it , earning him a yelp and a teasing hand rubbing him through his pants.

"From lips to necks .." Bedelia whispered, watching him trail his kisses down her stomach, his tongue sticking itself into her belly button. "Nipples and breasts" She continued, growing wetter with each second as his face buried itself in-between her legs and he lapped at her through her panties.

After a few more licks and suckles, it was safe to say that her scent was making it impossible for him to now devour her almost immediately.

"Vulvas and genitals" She said again, her voice growing more and more breathless as he but her inner thigh and it took everything in her not to squeeze his face with her thighs. He trailed up kisses to her knee before he went back onto his usual trail, licking down her inner thigh, his nose burying itself into the lace panties again as he felt her slightly push her hips into his face. He felt her growing impatient.

Her scent was intoxicating. But he had to take this slow, moving his lips to her other inner thigh, biting and sucking onto the flesh with a full intent if marking her there. He wanted her sore. He wanted her sore and in bed with him till the next day, so his lips may soothe her soreness. Tasting her on his lips once again after tonight.

"Hannibal" A needy whine escaped her lips as she ground her hips against him once again. His thumb hooked the hem of her panties and eventually removed them ever so slowly, tying them around his wrist as he settled both of her legs onto his shoulders.

His fingers spreading her, his mouth settling onto her clitoris as he sucked some of her arousal, before his tongue licked down her vulva and began to feast on what he desired the most, letting his primal instincts take over him, his erection painfully hard as he rubbed himself against the couch.

A symphony of whines and whimpers filled his ears, and the more he lapped and suckled onto her vulva, the more his tongue was filled with more of her juices, and the more he got a taste of her, the more he sought out her climax. Till eventually, her thighs squeezed his face, her hands pulling at his hair and a loud cry erupted from her chest as she came. And she came hard with all the build up he made her feel and he didn't stop.

No.

He wanted more.

And more he got as two of his fingers penetrated her, rutting roughly into her as her gasps were almost breathless. And it only took a few more minutes before she came for a second time. Her cum dripping down his chin as he pulled his fingers out, licked them clean and cleaned her up as well.

"Hannibal" She mumbled, already in a high daze as he removed her skirt, yet his eyes fell onto a scar on her hip bone, shaped like an hourglass with some writing beneath it.

Russian.

It was in Russian.

Huh?

Черная вдова

"Hannibal" She said in a whisper once again, pulling him by the hem of his pants as she grabbed him by the chin and kissed his lips once again.

"We are all Cannibals, meant to devour each other"

°•୨♡୧•°

Hours later and he lays besides her in bed, her back pressed into his chest, his arms wrapped around her sleeping form as he placed soft kisses onto her cheek and forehead.

But the scar didn't leave his mind so easily. Not at all in fact as his fingers traced down to her hip bone, where the scar was located. His finger traced it as he tried to remember where he had seen this symbol before. And why was it engraved onto Bedelia's skin ? What was she hiding?

The signs are all Infront of him yet he is incapable of connecting the dots, leaving him nothing. A trail which leads to a dead end.

Or was it truly a dead end?

°•୨♡୧•°

"You mustn't underestimate my power, Dalia" Said the man as he circled her from where she was hanging upside down, stripped naked.

"You left me no choice" She stuttered out, the cold biting her skin and the chains were making it impossible to breath in.

"I did. You simply chose the wrong one. This isn't a democratic country for you to assume that you are allowed to choose the choice that facilitates the task for you. What is this? America?" His question bitter and mocking as she bit back her tongue to keep herself from whimpering.

"I'm tired. I simply wanted something easier than usual" She tried to explain. But it was useless as he pressed a button and she was sunk back into the freezing water with a loud yelp. A minute later he pulled her back out and she was drenched once again, her body trembling like a leaf and her lips turning blue.

"Look at you. Like a wet cat. Shivering and whimpering. What else? Will you meow in protest Everytime I dunk you in?" A cold chuckle followed his words as he dunk her back in before she could say a thing.

Thirty seconds later he pulled her back out as she gasped for air.

"I'd like to hear you meow" He stated, a cruel smile playing on his lips as she glared at him, breathing heavily still.

"Come on kitty, kitty. Meow for me" He said, but she knew it was an order. An order she refuses to give into.

"Meow, or back to the water you go kitten" He threatened but still nothing.

And so, he dunk her back in. Leaving her for almost two minutes, until, he began to see more bubbles form on the surface of the water, and out of pity ,he pulled her out.

"Will you meow now? I'm sure Natalya and Yelena would be saddened to know that their mother is dead. With no one to protect them. Only their father around" He was a cruel man. A cruel, nasty old man that exploited their children to get her to bend the knee.

"Mhm—M—" She was shivering far too much and her teeth were clanking together, unable to say a thing.

"Mhn? What was that, kitty cat?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Mhm—Me—" A whimper escaped her lips as she fell silent.

And so he dunk her again. And again. And Again. Until bruises began to form on her body. Frost bites. And she seemed close to passing out.

Til...

His finger went to the button but before he could press it—

"Meow! Meow meow meow!" She said almost immediately, her eyes filling with tears as she shook her head. "Meow. Meow, meow, meow" The meows sounded more like whimpers but it was something.

His smile widened.

"How easy it is to dehumanize you" He said with a bitter chuckle, signaling two of his men to untie her. And as she came down, thrown to her knees before him, it was obvious that small frostbites were beginning to develop onto her skin due to the discoloration and the slight bruising, but he could care less.

"I have the perfect way to keep you warm, Lisichka." He said mockingly, snapping his fingers as one of his men yanked her by the hair and she yelled in protest.

"Rutting into you might bring back some of the circulation in your body" He said with a laugh.

And with that..

She awoke with a startled gasp. Her hand had already reached for her hidden gun underneath her pillow, aiming it at the door. The last image in her mind was that of— oh him ontop of her.

"Bedelia?" Came Hannibal's alarmed voice. She still did not lower her gun, her eyes staring blankly far ahead, breathing heavy as her chest heaved with desperate wheezes of air, her hand firm as it gripped the gun and her finger on the trigger.

"Bedelia" Hannibal said again, sitting up in bed, his hand ever so carefully settling onto her elbow as it lowered her arm ever so gently and carefully. "Easy there" He whispered softly, his other arm wrapped itself around her as he pulled her to his chest, and to his surprise and her own, she let him. "You're okay. It was a bad dream. A bad dream" He spoke softly into her ear, pulling the gun out of her grasp and setting it onto the bedside.

A bad dream.

It wasn't a bad dream. It was a reality lived decades ago. But still, a reality that remains freshly present in her brain.

"Deep breaths" He instructed her, his hand tangling into her hair, caressing it gently as he tried to soothe her clearly distressed state.

"Deep breaths" He repeated, his lips finding her temple as he gave her a soft kiss.

And so, her eyes closed again, and she let him wrap her tightly in his embrace.

It's over..

Or was it?

#bedelia du maurier #gillian anderson #bedannibal #hannibal lecter #canon? what is that #hannibal #violets for roses #marvel #i won't tag too much marvel because my own fandom scares me #natasha romanov #yelena belova #black widow

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havingapoemwithyou · 9 months

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small book of questions: chapter iii by Chen Chen

#Chen Chen #poetry #poem

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smollangrycat · 1 year

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Drown, Prt 10

(Avatar: WOW Oc)

Prt:1 Prt:2 Prt:3 Prt:4 Prt:5 Prt:6(I) Prt:6(II) Prt:7 Pt8(I) Pt8(II) Pt8(III) Prt:9 Prt:10 Prt:11

Quick Note - Hi Luvs! I’m so sorry about the long wait - Exams are currently kicking my ass, I hope your enjoy this Chapter!! Sadly I have to say there’s a note at the end, sorry!! 😅💕

Avatar: WOW spoilers.

I would also like to give a massive thanks to all the love you guys have shown my fics, it truly makes my day!!

Summary

(During Avatar: WOW) Alue’k is terrified of water, so what happened when some Metkayina boys think it would be funny to drag her into the sea and leave her.

Warnings

Just fluff

Crying?

If you think anything else needs to be added leave a comment.

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Silence.

Total silence … and quiet rage.

The eldest sully had faced many things in his life time, loosing his legs, loosing his brother, being shipped to a completely different planet, nearly dying to protect his new way of life, the stress of parenthood. However nothing could have prepared him for what he was told.

“They tried to drown me.”

Jake couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, someone almost took his child from him. His eye twitched slightly as he processed this new information and to say he was angry would be to drastically downplay the situation.

Hell, to say he felt rage would be a fucking understatement.

What Jake felt, he didn’t even think there was a name for. Some one had tried to take his child from him, tried to kill his baby girl. His sweet, funny and happy baby girl who only ever wanted to make others laugh.

Jake hadn’t notices that his inner thoughts had made him miss Alue’k quiet request.

Neteyam caught on that his dad had managed to miss his sisters question so he gently pushed it forward by placing a hand on his fathers shoulder. When Hake met his eldest eyes he was directed to look once again at Alue’k.

Neteyam - Dad?

Jake once again made eye contact with his daughter fully listing to whatever she had to say. An alarmed look covered his face as he waited for his daughter to say something.

He held her tight in his arms, eyes wide and alert. Alue’k quietly chuckled to herself, he looked like what humans called an “Owl”. She had read about them in books Norm had given to her, the man could never say no to “puppy dog eyes” as he called it.

The young girl cuddled closer into his arms trying her best to match her breathing to his. Alue’k had always struggles white the idea of being small, always arguing against it. However, now? She couldn’t deny how small she really was, wrapped in her fathers arms. This is the safest she thinks she’s ever felt.

Alue’k - Can we go home?

Her voice was quiet and hoarse, like sand paper.

It mad Jake wince. Nodding his head he cupped Alue’ks face, cradling it softly. A gentle smile covered his face as his eyes softened, how could he let this happen?

He was meant to be the protecter… . How had he become so wrapped up in adapting to his new life that he missed his daughter struggling. Hell, we’re all of his children struggling and he was just blind to it?

Jake - Sure thing baby girl, we’ll go home yeah? We’ll go home, your mamas waiting up for you.

Alue’k sniffles nodding her head in agreement. She held on tight to Jake as he stood up and started to make his way to their marui pod, carrying Alue’k close to his chest.

That was until an all too familiar feeling of teeth sinking into his calf’s made him stop. Jake stared down at the viper wolf who had never rlly shook the habit of nipping at his calf’s. He looked at his daughter who was reaching down towards the viper wolf, sighing gently he leaned down slightly making it easier for the young girl to pick up her friend.

Tonôwa cooed happily as he laid comfortably on Alue’k, the girl in questions smiles as she scratched under his chin making him purr. Her attention was captured by another however as someone started to frantically call her name.

They voice was quickly identified as Neytiri.

Aleu’k flailed a bit trying to get out of Jakes arms. Jake steadied himself before taking the hint and letting the girl down, he helped her regain her balance but before she could even properly settle on her feet she took of sprinting towards her mom.

Alue’k - Mama!

Her voice grew desperate as she pushed herself to run faster.

Tonôwa still in her arms (not enjoying the very rocky journey).

Neytiri ran faster than she ever thought was possible, she legs burned by the time she reached her precious daughter. When they finally crashed into each other, the force of it brought them both to there knees. Neytiri wrapped her arms around Alue’k, eyes watering out of relief that her daughter was safe.

After a few moments of just being held by Neytiri, Jake joined followed closely by Neteyam and Lo’ak. The all huddled around the girl and pulled each other in. This is the family she almost gave up, at this moment she didn’t believe she could ever forgive herself for that.

Their peace was soon interrupted by screaming, Alue’k braced herself as two bodies came crashing into the Sully family huddle.

Tuk and Kiri.

Kiri cupped her face, resting her forehead on hers while saying a quiet prayer of thanks to Eawa. Tuk just sobbed, wrapping her arms around her sisters waist and begging her never to leave again.

Alue’k had a lot of mixed emotion at the moment: She felt sad, angry, guilty just to name a few. However, right now, there’s no other place she would be then wrapped in her family’s arms.

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Hey Luvs! I’m so sorry but I’m going to have to take a break, just until my exam are over. I hope you all understand!! However, I’m gunna miss all of you for the next few weeks, just remember to look after yourselves and be as happy as you can!!! 💕💕💕🥹

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i-fondued · 1 year

Text

Ghost | Sinners in Secret - Chapter 8

Chapter Eight - The Ritual Incident

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Plot, smut, etc. See AO3 for full list of tags!

A/N: Oooh boy, this one is a bit darker and more plot heavy this time but I hope you all enjoy as I get all the pieces in order. Next update will be 11/08 at the latest!

Chapter One - HERE

Chapter Two - HERE

Chapter Three - HERE

Chapter Four - HERE

Chapter Five - HERE

Chapter Six - HERE

Chapter Seven - HERE

AO3 Link - HERE

The abbey was abuzz with gossip and excitement. The siblings were filled with the spirit of Samhain, ghouls helping build massive bonfires on the grounds that would burn well into the night. Celebrations would be wild as they always were. Samhain had always been one of my favorite holidays here at the abbey. The Clergy had always treated it as half Halloween party and half day of the dead. Tonight there would be a massive party in the dining halls, one that would spill into the main hall and outside to the sprawling grounds.

I on the other hand had spent most of my day tucked away with Secondo. We had spent days getting things ready for the ritual tonight and we spent the whole day preparing not only ourselves but the chapel space where I would hopefully commune with Lucifer himself and ask the question everyone was looking to know the answer. What Secondo’s vision could mean and who I was supposed to choose.

When the abbey bells rang out, I sat up and looked to Secondo. He nodded and waved me off with a gruff “Go prepare yourself.”

“I’ll be back once the sun sets, Secondo.” I nodded, handing him the book I’d been reviewing back to him.

“You can do this, Sorella.” He put his hand on my shoulder, the first warm gesture from the stoic man since I’d been working with him. “I will be here with you every step of the way.”

I gave him a small smile before leaving the chapel, scurrying down the halls and dodging siblings and ghouls who’d already started the party a little too early. I slipped into my room, sighing deeply as I leaned against the door. Rubbing my face I kicked off my shoes and padded quietly into the kitchen.

I was allowed only water till sundown, once that happened there would be no food or drink till I came out the other side of my trance. I sipped from a bottle of water from the refrigerator, stomach growling at the sight of the bowl of fresh fruit on the kitchen counter. Quickly I walked into my bedroom, finding my robes that I was to wear tonight were laying across my bed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed I brushed my fingers across the gossamer light muslin chemise. It was floor length and had no real shape to it, I also had a pair of thin slippers. Secondo had let me know I would not wear anything under the chemise and that my shoes would be taken off before I laid down on the altar. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was anxious. It was one thing to know I had been able to do everything successfully on paper, it was a whole other thing to do it correctly in practice. A soft knock on my bedroom door drew me from my thoughts, looking to see a familiar shape of red.

“Stellina…” Copia looked sheepish, hands wringing together as he came to sit with me on the bed. “Are you prepared for tonight?”

I nodded at him, unable to trust my mouth to form words, as my stomach did flips. We hadn’t had a chance to talk since this morning because I had been getting ready. My mind drifted back to my nightmare and I shuddered, Copia picking up on my reaction. He seemed to war with himself as he reached for my hands before giving up and placing them back in his lap.

“Secondo will be there for you should you need him, he is very strong in the ritual practices.” Copia spoke, still unable to meet my eye. “It is like I said this morning, the veil is thin on days like today.”

“Copia…” I started, unsure of how I wanted to speak with him about my dream.

“Si?” His face eager as he finally looked at me, mismatched eyes seeming to silently plead with me.

“Do you believe that dreams can show us the future?”

He nodded his head, looking away for a moment before speaking, his eyes locked on the fire burning in the fireplace.

“I do, Stellina.” He sighed, reaching out to take one of my hands in his own leather clad ones. “Sometimes I think they come un presagio.”

“Good or b-bad?” I whispered, voice warbling with emotion as I thought back on what I’d seen.

“Importa davvero? A vision is given, we are meant to interpret.” He shrugged, Copia’s answer didn’t satisfy me or answer my real question.

“ D-Did you dream it too, Copia?” I whispered, voice weak as tears gathered in the corners of my eyes.

“W-what?”

“Did you dream of Terzo? Of him being killed and usurped…by us?”

The room felt oppressive and tense, neither of us spoke or looked at each other. When I finally fidgeted enough that I couldn’t help but look over at Copia he had a dark look on his face. His mismatched eyes narrowed at me as he pulled away from me.

“Usurped? Is that how you feel about that vision?” His voice was eerie calm, his eyes however made it clear he was anything but.

“Vision?” I tried to smile, not quite reaching my arms as he stood and faced away from me. “Copia, it was just a dream right? It doesn’t mean anything…”

“Shared dreams are one thing, but on the night before Samhain? It’s no coincidence, Sorella.” He spoke and I felt a chin run down my spine. “You should ask His Darkness about it tonight, si?”

“All I know is I refuse to let it come true.”

“Would it be so bad? To be in complete control of the Clergy?” Copia’s voice was low, I almost barely heard him.

“W-what?!” My head whipped to look at him as he looked at me over his shoulder. “At the expense of Terzo? Of our Papa ?”

I was completely floored by him. This wasn’t my Copia. He’d never been so openly power hungry. Did I know he was ambitious under his shy exterior? Yes. But the idea he’d condone getting rid of Terzo and combining the papal and clergy lines? It was more than I thought he’d be capable of. I wasn’t sure if it was the sound of my voice, high and screechy, or the bells tolling signaling the start of the Samhain festivities that seemed to bring Copia back to me. He shook his head, clearing his mind of his thoughts and seemed taken aback by his own reaction.

“Stellina…” He spoke softly, hand stretched towards me as he approached me. I took a step back, snatching my ritual chemise and darting to the bathroom.

“I-I need to get ready.” I mumbled, not even able to look at him again as I shut the door.

When I emerged, wearing the muslin dress and a simple black capelet over it, Copia was gone.

…

“Are you ready, Sister?”

Consumed by the thoughts of my conversation with Copia earlier, I shook my head to clear my thoughts before looking over at Secondo. He was dressed in his papal finery, complete with paints and mitre. I gave him a small smile while handing him the caplet I’d worn down to the chapel.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I sighed, following him up the aisle towards the raised dias alter. I slipped my feet from my slippers and tucked them out of the way.

The chapel had been lit with nothing but black candles, casting an eerie glow around the gothic space. The stained glass windows were lit by the flickering flames of the massive bonfires outside, the colors melding together to cause a reddish tint around us. Secondo gave me a hand to get up on the altar, laying down and placing my open palms flat on the marble.

My heart was thundering with anxiety as I watched Secondo make more of the preparations, burning incense and circling me four times while swinging the thurible. In the haze of the smoke my eyes felt heavy as I listened to Secondo drone on in Latin, his voice low and grumbly as he worked.

“Imploro praesidium huic mulieri.” I invoke protection for this woman…

“Ipse satanas eam in itineribus deduxit.” Satan himself guide her in her travels…

“Sit ei responsa petat.” May he bring her the answers she seeks…

Secondo paused his circling of me, placing the thurible down on the floor and standing in the middle of the altar. He reached into his robes to pull out a ritual blade; taking my left hand and gently sliced my palm as shallow as possible. I hissed between my teeth before following what was required of me for my part in the ritual. Still laying down I brought my palm up and wiped the blood across my forehead, repeating the words Secondo had drilled into me.

“Lucifer, oro, audias preces meas,

Da mihi visionem et directionem tuam,

Ostende mihi quid de me desideras,

Dirige me in visione et consilio tuo,

Ostende mihi quid expectetur primi motoris tui.”

Lucifer, please hear my plea,

Grant me your vision and guidance,

Show me what you desire of me,

Direct me in your vision and plan,

Show me what is expected of your Prime Mover.

I pressed my hands together in prayer, palms wet with the blood, as I closed my eyes and continued to repeat what I had memorized. I could smell the scent of the incense as I spoke and my heart thudded in my chest as the anxiety creeped up. It didn’t feel like anything had changed, faintly I could hear the sounds of Secondo’s own chant.

I longed to peek open an eye, just to see if anything was happening but I knew better than to mess this up. Secondo made sure to remind me constantly that we really only had one small window of time to entice Lucifer to speak with me, if this didn’t work we’d have to wait till next year and I knew that the Clergy wouldn’t wait that long for my answer.I continued with my chanting, hands pressed firmly together over my heart.

“Your Eminence?”

I startled slightly, my eyes opening and looking towards the sound of the voice. A sister I didn’t recognize was standing next to me, her hand kindly on my shoulder as she took in the perplexed look on my face.

“Prime Mover, are you quite alright?” She spoke softly, but my eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror.

I was dressed in the same dress and robes I had been in my last dream, down to the gloves and Spanish veil. Dread bubbled up in my chest but on the outside it was like I was on autopilot again. I nodded to her before she smiled gently.

“Come, Mama, we will be late.” She said, turning from the room and mirror and beckoning me to follow her. Once again I followed down the familiar corridor towards the dining rooms. She opened the door for me, bowing slightly and stepping to the side so I could enter.

My eyes took in the space, entirely the same as I remembered it, and I scanned the room looking for the familiar forms of Terzo and Copia. My heart hammered in my chest as I glided forward towards the head table. All of the Emeritus family was seated speaking quietly to each other and stood once they saw me approaching. In the middle of the table were three seats that were open.

“Mama Emeritus the First, Prime Mover.” A voice called and the siblings stood, heads bowed at me.

“Long may she reign.” The repeated back, and I felt so flustered with how eerily familiar this all felt. As I stepped towards the raised high table I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

“Mm, Cara Mia…”

My head turned and I felt like bursting into tears as I saw Terzo smirking at me, chin resting on my chin. He lifted my veil to be able to look at my eyes unobstructed, leaning to press a soft kiss to my cheek.

“We should have more cene formali,” He purred in my ear, reaching to take my hand and escort me to the chair in the middle of the three. “Any excuse to have you dressed in this finery per me, si?

As I slipped to sit in the seat I felt someone step close to me on my right side. I turned to look and gasped. It was Copia, but he was dressed in his papal robes from my nightmare. His face was soft as he looked at me, hand reaching out to brush my cheek.

“Si, Papa. I must say Mama looks quite fetching, no?” He purred, locking eyes with Terzo in a suggestive manner. “Che ne dici di abbreviare questo pasto e riportarla nelle nostre stanze per banchettare con lei, hm?” How about we cut this meal short and take her back to our rooms to feast on her, hm?

“You would hear no complaints from me, Papa.” Terzo laughed, leaning back in his chair with a wine glass in hand. “Direi che è ora di fornire un erede, no?” I'd say it's about time we provide an heir, no?

“Ah, Si.” Copia smirked, leaning towards me to mumble in my ear as I squirmed. “Che ne dici, mamma? Dovremmo riportarti nelle nostre stanze e fotterti uno dopo l'altro? Prendiamo il nostro tempo insieme per allevarti?” How about it, Mama? Should we take you back to our rooms and fuck you one after another? Take our time together to breed you?

Even in this limbo, this vision, I squirmed and panted at the filthy things these two were whispering in my ears as we tried to eat our dinner. When I felt a hand on each thigh, parting my legs under the table I felt like time was slowing. I looked up and saw that time really was creeping to a halt. Siblings mid bite pausing with their forks in the air, glasses of water and wine hovering close to lips but not quite meeting them.

“I’m pleased to finally speak with you, Sister.”

I whipped my head around, looking to the seat to my left. Sitting on the table between Copia’s plate and mine was the most painfully beautiful man I’d ever seen. His face angular and sharp, eyes round and the clearest shade of blue. His hair was dark and messy, curls brushing against his ears as he leaned back casually. He wore a simple black suit that was sinfully tight to his lithe form. His voice was like a whisper as he spoke and it sounded wistful and almost sad.

“M-my Lord!” I squeaked out, suddenly taking control of the body I was in. I made a move to bow to him, head tilted down, but his fingers slipped under my chin and tilted it back so he could look me in the eye. “T-thank you for blessing me with your presence!”

“The pleasure is mine, Prime Mover.” His lips quirked into a smirk as he spoke. “I know you have many questions and our window of time is short. Speak them and I will try and answer what I can.”

Lucifer offered me his hand, helping me stand and tucking my hand in the crook of his arm. He led me from the dining room and I couldn’t help but look back at Terzo and Copia. When the dining hall doors closed behind us suddenly without warning we were in the chapel. I could see myself laying on the altar, Secondo circling me swinging the incense back and forth and droning in Latin.

“Did you send the dream, my Lord?” I whispered, eyes locked on the floor and unable to look at him. “To Copia and I?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because it was important to show you what could happen if you let people sway you in your decision.” He said simply, sitting on the front pew and patting the spot next to him. I sat down, noting my clothes had gone back to what I had arrived at the chapel wearing. “I cannot tell you what you must do, but I trust that you know what will be best for my flock.”

“Why me?” I tried not to make it sound like I was whining, but I looked at Lucifer and he had a small teasing smile on his face.

“Only a woman like you could manage to subdue Papa Emeritus the Third into a loyal companion,” Lucifer chuckled, taking my hand in his. “Only a woman like you could manage to submit herself to Cardinal Copia.”

“The vision we were just in, is that what it would be like if I choose them both?”

“It’s one of many outcomes, Sister.” He sighed. “The future is fickle and ever-changing. I can only show you what could be based on your decisions.”

The anxiety bubbled back in my throat, heart pounding in my chest as I thought about how much was resting on my shoulders.

“So one wrong move and I bring down the house of Emeritus on my own?” I mumbled, feeling tears gather in my eyes.

“One correct move and you keep my flock, your family, safe for generations. Till the next Prime Mover is born and the cycle is renewed.” Lucifer’s fingers brushed my tears away, hand cupping my cheek to tilt me to look into his eyes. “The question is what you want to do.”

“But can you see what the correct choice is?”

“I can.”

“Then tell me, please my lord.” I begged, tears flowing from my eyes. “What choice will make them happy?

“Are you not worried about your own happiness, little lamb?” Lucifer whispered, leaning closer to me, his eyes locked on my lips.

“I-I just want both of them to be safe, alive, and happy.”

“Then you know what choice to make, Sister.” He chuckled. “Let me show you the possibilities…”

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips softly to mine, a gasp slipping from my lips as his hands cupped my face gently. Suddenly my mind was flooded with images, glimpses of possibles and many lives that I could or would live. I was physically present at each one, standing like an observer in the outcomes of my own choices.

A glimpse of one possibility flashed and I saw myself standing on a balcony of a beach house, leaning on the glass panel railing and looking out over the coast. I was wearing a white silk robe tied loosely around my waist, a pair of arms slipping around my waist and pressing a kiss to my temple. I turned and saw Terzo smiling softly and cupping my chin as he leaned down to kiss me. Another flash and the vision morphed again, same beach house and view but now it was Copia kissing me. Another flicker and suddenly Terzo was kneeling, kissing up my leg and mumbling words I couldn’t quite hear. I felt arms tug at the tie of the robe around my waist and I arched my back to look back at Copia who was kissing my neck, his mustache scratchy against my over sensitive skin.

The vision changed and suddenly I was in Primo’s garden, moon high in the sky as cicadas buzzed in the summer heat. I was wearing a simple black gown made of silk. I turned to look as someone walked towards me, Copia’s face soft as he took me into his arms tightly. There was music softly playing in the distance and he bowed to me, causing me to laugh as he tugged me close to him and started to sway. We danced slowly for a while, my head resting on his shoulder, before someone tapped on Copia’s shoulder. Terzo cut in with a huge grin, kissing up my bare arm and dipping me slightly. He spun me around in his arms dramatically and I laughed. Copia pouted before I reached out and tugged him to me, our three-way dancing sloppy at best as Terzo twirled me away to start to tango with Copia. I was laughing as they fought to dip the other man, and suddenly the vision changed again.

I was in my rooms, curled up on the sofa with a book and the fire blazing. I could see out the windows that it was snowing softly, there was a Yule tree in the corner, decorated with black and gold ornaments. A set of four stockings hung over the fireplace, one smaller than the others. Terzo came in from the kitchen carrying a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, handing them to me as I put my book down. Looking at myself I finally noticed the swell in my waistline, a bump under my red dress. He threw himself on the sofa gracelessly, hand reaching out to lovingly cradle my belly. Terzo leaned forward, pressing a kiss to it and whispering to me in italian. I felt another pair of lips pressed softly to my temple and I looked up with a warm smile to Copia who was staring at Terzo and I with a soft look on his face.

Suddenly the scene morphed and I was curled up in bed, hand brushing against my belly and mumbling something I couldn’t hear. Copia was there with me, his hand possessively thrown over my hip as he slept. Terzo curled up behind me with his legs tangled with mine as he snored softly. Suddenly my bedroom door opened and two little dark haired girls scurried into the room, identical twins. The only difference between them was they had mismatched eyes but they had opposite eye white iris.

They pulled themselves up into the massive bed, one crawling over Copia and the other over Terzo and waking both men up in the process. They came to me, snuggling into my sides as I sat up and laid back on the pillows. My face was soft and eyes filled with love as the twins settled in the bed with us. Both Copia and Terzo tugged them to cuddle in their arms, the girls protesting with giggles and pushing away from their Papas. They squealed and laughed as both men tickled and kissed them all over their faces. I watched myself and as the vision started to fade again I saw this possible me lock with my own eyes, a small barely perceivable nod in my direction.

With clarity I came back to Lucifer, his knowing eyes mischievous as I looked up at him. I was back on the altar now, Lucifer was standing looking down at me from above my head. His fingers brushing faintly over my cheek.

“You have time for one more question, little lamb…” He whispered.

“W-what about what Copia saw too…I-I’m scared he will try and make that happen. I’m scared to lose him…” I felt tears slipping from my eyes as I spoke. “Why include him in the visions if it's going to make him doubt everything?”

Lucifer’s eyebrow cocked slightly as he leaned down to brush his lips against mine softly as he spoke.

“Someday you will look back on this and it will make sense,” His voice soft and began to fade slightly, my eyes drooping closed. “Someday you’ll look back on this moment and understand why, not right now…not for a few years. Till then…I’ll be waiting…”

Suddenly I felt someone brushing a wet cloth across my brow, startling me as my eyes flew open. Secondo was leaning over me, worry clear on his face. His mitre was missing from his head and his papal paints were smeared slightly. When he noticed my eyes were open he let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry to cut your talk short, Sorella.” He sighed, still brushing the cool cloth against my forehead and cleaning up the blood. “You started to burn up and I was concerned…”

“Short? How long was I out for?” I struggled to try and sit up, Secondo’s hand steading my back as I swung my legs over the altar. I hissed as my hand gripped the marble, noting the cut on my hand was bandaged up nicely.

“You were in the trance for about fifteen minutes.”

“That’s it?!” I felt like I had been in that limbo for hours, my brain feeling slightly like mush as I attempted to slide from the altar. My legs giving out slightly, Secondo’s hand shooting out to catch my arm to steady me.

“Sorella, you need to take it slow.” He warned, helping me to slide my slippers back on and throw the cloak over my shoulder. “You need rest.”

“I need to speak with Sister Imperator.” I insisted, pulling from the little strength I had to walk quickly down the aisle. Secondo close behind me as I struggled to push open the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the vestibule. “I’ve made my decision and I have Satan’s blessing.”

Stepping out into the dark vestibule I startled slightly as Copia and Terzo stood from the bench they had been sitting at. Both of them looked anxious but relieved to see me.

“Cara mia…” Terzo stepped towards me, arms open wide.

“Stellina.” Copia looked at me, his eyes not quite meeting mine as he approached me.

I started to say something to reassure them but I felt my legs give out as my vision darkened. Copia threw himself forward and caught me, both of us falling to the floor. There was shouting and arguing in Italian but my brain couldn’t keep up with the speed. I saw Secondo dash off, his chasuble flapping as he ran. The last thing I saw was two sets of concerned mismatched eyes.

…

I woke up in my bed, tucked under the covers, as the sun was beginning to set outside my window. My head was throbbing as I stirred trying to sit up. I felt a weight around my waist and turned to see Terzo curled up around me protectively, his arm slung around my waist. I smiled softly as I pushed his hair away from his face. He was still dressed in his papal suit, paints smudged all over the pillow he was using, and he was snoring slightly.

Looking around the room my heart clenched and I slipped from Terzo’s grip. My bare feet were quiet as I padded over to the chairs in front of the fireplace. Copia was fast asleep in the wing backed chair, his fingers intertwined and resting on his chest and his head was cocked at an angle that would for sure leave him with a crick in his neck. His gloves were tossed onto the small table between the chairs, a glass of what looked like scotch sat next to them along with his biretta. I kneeled at his feet and looked up at him softly, taking in how peaceful he looked asleep. As if he sensed the eyes on him Copia stirred slightly and jolted awake. He seemed to realize I was out of bed and he began to try and stand.

“Stellina, cara, you should be in bed.” He said, voice husky with sleep still. “Come let me get you back under the covers, si?”

“Copia.” I spoke softly, putting my hand on his strong thigh to make him pause. He sat back down before I continued, hand coming to rest on top of mine. “I spoke to him…to the Dark Lord.”

“Satana?”

“Yes.”

“W-well what did he say, Topolino?” His eyes were wary, face unsure as he looked at me.

“Do you trust me?” I mumbled. I knew we would have to talk about the dream again, my heart painfully aware that he might not believe me. My mind drifted back to the visions I had in Lucifer’s embrace and I prayed he’d listen to me.

“Si, always.” Copia said. “Tell me, what did he say about our sognare?”

I paused, looking back at Terzo who slept soundly in my bed. I had to tell Copia everything in the hopes he’d understand, that he would trust me and trust that Lucifer had shown us this possible omen not as a proof of our betrayal but as a warning. I sighed, leaning to rest my head on Copia’s thigh. His hand automatically started to brush the hair away from my face and I smiled up at him. His eyes were warm and open, eager to know what had happened.

So I told him everything, down to the smallest details. Copia for his part looked at me fully enraptured to what I was saying, eyes locked on mine as I told him about the first part of my vision. His eyes winded as I spoke of him and Terzo as papa in their own rights but he didn’t interrupt. I told him of the kisses from Lucifer, my cheeks flushing slightly, and I told him of the many visions that he’d shown me.

His face flushed when I spoke of the beach house, of the dance in Primo’s gardens. But he gasped, the first sound he’d made in almost fifteen minutes, when I spoke of being pregnant and having twins. His eyes sparked with heat for the first time since the day prior to my dream and I squirmed in my spot on the floor, distracted by the look on his face.

“I-I know its a lot,” I stumbled as I stood, knees aching too much to stay there. “But I know in my hearts of hears, Copia, that Lucifer gave me his blessing to follow my instincts…”

“Si?” Copia reached out and tugged me to sit in his lap, my head nuzzling into his neck. He felt and smelt like home. Despite the tension between us all day, I couldn’t help but seek out the familiar comfort. “-and what is it that your instincts are telling you, Stellina?”

He reached out and tilted my head back to look at my eyes, his gaze lingering on my lips. I licked them absentmindedly, faintly aware of his wandering hands as he cupped my ass. My breath hitched as he leaned forward to hover his lips over mine.

“Tell Cardinale, confess your sin and desires…”

“I want you. I want you both.” I whispered against his lip, hand curling around his neck and tangling in his hair. “I want to spend my life pinned between you both.”

“That can be arranged, Topolino…” Copia chuckled, pressing his lips against mine before pulling back. “I trust you, Sorella. If this is how you think Lucifer wishes us to continue then that is how we continue.”

“Promise me, Copia?” I sighed, heat pooling in my belly as he held my hips and ground against me.

“I promise.”

He sealed his promise with a searing kiss, my heart desperate to believe him.

#Ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #copia x terzo #copia x reader #terzo x reader #papa terzo #cardinal copia #fanficion #my writing #Sinners in Secret Chapters

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turtle-paced · 1 year

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Hia! Hope you are well.

I've got kind of a nitpicky and rambling question: I was rereading the Tyrion III chapter in ASOS, in which the small council meets and Littlefinger gets approval to go marry Lysa. Littlefinger says that marrying Lysa will be easy because he's bedded her before-- why does this draw no reaction from anyone? Petyr and Lysa haven't been together in the same place since Jon Arryn died, so Littlefinger is pretty much telling everyone flat-out that Lysa was having premarital and/or extramarital sex. Which kind of feels like a big deal in relation to her status/ reputation and Sweetrobin's legitimacy/claim to the Vale. I mean, look at the lengths that Hoster took to get Lysa married in the first place after she had premarital sex. And the surrounding Cat chapters at that point in the book are in the midst of the reveal about it. Lysa's actions clearly had serious consequences and was very thoroughly covered up-- premarital sex for a noblewoman is evidently no joke in Westeros. Yet why does no one bat an eye? Wouldn't Petyr/Lysa sex be a big deal? Did they think he was making a joke? Or did they just not care? And why would he blurt that out in the first place?

Sorry if this is a dumb question-- just wondering if there is some consensus on this that I'm missing. Have a good day! :-)

Lord Rowan looked doubtful. "Would Lady Lysa have you?"

"She's had me a few times before, Lord Mathis, and voiced no complaints."

"Bedding," said Cersei, "is not wedding. Even a cow like Lysa Arryn might be able to grasp the difference."

"To be sure. It would not have been fitting for a daughter of Riverrun to marry one so far below her." Littlefinger spread his hands. "Now, though... a match between the Lady of the Eyrie and the Lord of Harrenhal is not so unthinkable, is it?"

Tyrion III, ASoS

Littlefinger is using the fact that he's got a better established relationship with Lysa as leverage. Lysa's been rejecting suitors right left and centre since she was widowed. The Lannisters and pals just want Lysa to shut up, go away, and present no problems to them - and wouldn't you know it here's Littlefinger saying "yes, I can do that, guaranteed."

In terms of Sweetrobin's legitimacy, Littlefinger doesn't put a timeframe on the affair. Savvier operators may make inquiries, including of Varys, as to what was going on between Littlefinger and Lysa. But as the Lannisters well know, proving paternity without DNA testing is difficult and always contestable.

Overall, though, it's just not time for the Lannisters to be looking a gift horse in the mouth. They'll judge Lysa in the confines of their own skulls and focus on the immediate practicality of neutralising her politically.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #lysa arryn #petyr baelish #littlefinger #a storm of swords

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covetsauvignon · 2 years

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as it stands - chapter two

associate professor joshua x university staff member reader genre: smut, angst if you squint overall warnings: use of the word "war", afab reader, oral (f), fingering

series: intro - chapter one - chapter two

tag list (open): @hynjnhwng | @cloudyhoonie

this chapter pairs well with the following music: dido and aeneas, z. 626 / act iii: when i am laid in earth beverage: cavaliere d’oro campanile pinot grigio delle venezie 2018

it's finally here! shoutout to anyone who catches my three fun easter eggs. also sent this to my high school bestie while drunk and he proofread it brb dying of embarrassment!!!

Clove

“As it stands, any relationships of a sexual or romantic nature between faculty or staff members within the same school, department, or college are strongly discouraged, except in certain circumstances, usually those extenuating from a relationship existing prior to the employment of one or both parties.”

It’s just talking. It’s not a relationship. Over the course of the past month, you’ve spent nearly as much time in Joshua’s office as you’ve spent at home, opting to visit him for a few hours while he grades papers or reviews lesson plans when you’re finished with work rather than leaving campus right away.

You don’t go on dates. You don’t even see each other outside of the classics building.

You don’t mind. It’s easier like this.

Simpler. Cleaner.

When you’re together, you talk about anything. And everything. He wants to know about where you grew up. What do your siblings do? Who are you more like: your mother, or your father? Did you grow up religious? What do you believe now? What’s your favorite book, movie, tv show, menu item at McDonald’s, place you’ve visited? Have you seen any of the natural wonders of the world? Did you know that ravens can talk? Did you know humans have studied more of space than the ocean? What’s your favorite constellation? Snow or rain? Sunshine or clouds?

You learn that he likes the color blue, he’s an only child, he was raised a devout Catholic, he can play guitar, his favorite animals are rabbits (he has a pet bunny named Hannie), and he’s never been good with asking other people for help.

In return, you tell him some of the useless facts you know. Such as: blobfish are actually normal looking fish at their natural deep sea pressure, declawing cats removes all but the last knuckle of their toes, and, speaking of toes, Viggo Mortensen broke his when kicking that helmet in The Two Towers.

He takes to the habit of collecting shooters and miniature handles of liquor, bitters and syrups and other cocktail ingredients small enough to hide behind the books of his office (it is a dry campus, after all), so that he can learn how to make cocktails. Sometimes, he asks you to teach him something new. Other times, he shows off with his own research. His brands and blends are a bit wrong, sometimes, but you never say anything. He’s trying, and it makes you warm from head to toe.

Then, there are the other times. More and more frequent, as of late, one question in this direction branching off into dozens, each more suggestive and salacious than the last.

First kiss? How many relationships have you been in? Have you ever been in love? What’s your favorite position? How often do you pleasure yourself? Do you ever think about someone in particular while doing so? Have you ever thought about me? Will you think about me tonight? If we didn’t know each other through work, if we met at a bar, would we have slept together by now?

For better or worse, it’s not long until the space between you becomes so wrought full of tension and desire that you can scarcely stand to be in the same room with other people around out of fear that anyone will be able to tell something’s happening between the two of you just by looking. The lounge and hallways become a war zone full of mines in the form of students and other faculty and staff. You find you’re beginning to avoid people.

Not that, in either of your offices, you have ever truly been alone together. Your office, especially, is not private; either the lobby door or the chair’s office door or both are open, meaning anyone is welcome to enter at any point. Part of the reason you speak so softly in the sanctity of Joshua’s office is because students tend to come and go with questions or late assignments every so often, so his door is always open, too.

The pair of you have never been alone behind closed doors.

Until now.

You didn’t see him talking to a student down the hall as you slipped into the storage room, and he didn’t see you pass by on your way. You don’t bother turning on the lights; the window at the far end of the room lets in enough cloud-covered sunshine to guide you comfortably. The room is decently sized, filled with dozens of filing and storage cabinets, rows of shelves, and the old faculty and staff lounge couch that was now shoved into the far corner.

It’s dark and quiet, close and familiar. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear the door open unexpectedly.

“Jesus, you scared me,” you laugh, looking away quickly, turning your attention back to the cabinet of supplies you’d just opened. What you’d been searching for, however, is lost on you. You haven’t the faintest idea why you came here in the first place.

All you know is that now Joshua is here with you. Alone.

“Out of staples?” You ask. It’s an innocent question, to be sure. But, in this context, any question - any attempt at communication - serves only to stir the feelings and urges you’re both trying desperately to suppress.

“I honestly can’t even remember,” he answers, laughing softly. His voice is quiet and gentle, as ever, but slightly tense.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you begin organizing the storage cabinet instead of pulling items from it. Straightening a box of paper clips here, re-stacking a set of index cards there. Your hands are fitful, nervous and flighty like a baby bird trying to get off the ground for the first time.

It’s the proximity. And the light. Or, rather, the lack of light. It’s the way the hint of poplar wood you glean from his cologne is wrapping itself around you like a python, creeping through your veins and making you think about making regrettable decisions. Regrettably delicious decisions.

“That’s unfortunate,” you reply succinctly.

“Somehow I sense that I’m not alone in suddenly feeling lost,” he murmurs. There’s a soft metallic sound, one you recognize as him fidgeting with his wristwatch. He does it when he’s deep in thought. Or nervous. Or both.

“Is it that obvious?” You sigh, carefully closing the creaky metal cabinet before turning to face him. He’s hovering by the door, one hand worrying with his watch, his eyes moving from the floor to your face as he senses your movement. You can’t decipher his expression. Your own gaze flickers to the door handle.

You notice it has a lock.

That lights a flame in your stomach, the hungry sort that only grows stronger the more you try to blow it out.

“Not really, I’m just getting better at reading you,” he answers. You’re both quiet for a moment. Anxious. Tempted. “Are you afraid?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Of what?”

“Of getting caught.”

You swallow hard. Something is buzzing in your chest and your fingertips. “We’re not doing anything,” you say cautiously.

“That could change. If you want it to.”

You look at him, and he looks at you, and the weight of this moment, the gaze you’re sharing, and all of its implications makes your head spin. “What if someone comes in?” you ask. He turns slightly, looking at the door handle for a moment before delicately clicking the lock into place. “What if someone finds out?”

“They won’t,” he assures you softly, taking the smallest of steps towards you.

Your heartbeat begins to quicken. Your lips suddenly feel dry. You lick them. You don’t think you’ve ever been so nervous. “I need this job. I can’t get fired.” He’s close enough now that beneath his cologne you’re beginning to detect notes of his aftershave. It smells like mint. You wonder if, perhaps, you could taste it on your lips if you kissed along his jaw.

“No one’s going to fire you,” he shakes his head. “If we get caught, which we won’t, I’ll take the blame.”

You frown. “I don’t like the idea of that, either. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.”

“Oh?” The corner of his mouth curls into a slight grin. “And what about what I want?”

“What is it that you want?”

In another two agonizingly slow, careful steps, he closes the distance, and for the first time you realize how tall he is, how fully his presence enraptures you. “Permission,” he says at last.

You feel like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You look up at him, into his eyes, so kind and caring and sweet and warm, and it’s all over. “Please,” you whisper. “Joshua, please.” He raises his hand, running the back of his knuckles so gently across your cheek you’re unsure if you’re imagining it or not.

“Please what?”

“Kiss me.”

The hand by your face turns, and his palm comes to rest along your jaw, thumb running across your cheek while his fingers curl beneath your chin to tilt your head up as he softly presses his lips to yours, his other hand coming to ghost over your hip, guiding your body just slightly closer to his.

At first, it’s chaste. Bubblegum pink, glitter suspended in liquid around the edges. Soda flavored lip gloss and mood rings and Lisa Frank folders. The warmth in your chest stays there, innocent and nostalgic. It makes you think of your very first kiss with your best friend, Ricky, in eighth grade, outside the auditorium as you wait for your sister to get out of drama club.

Certain elements come back to you, replacing your senses in the present with the memories of your past. Your backpack, weighed down by at least three textbooks and covered with Pokemon pins. The Hello Kitty bandaid on your knee pulling slightly at your skin. The cloyingly sweet vanilla ice cream perfume you wore at the time filling your lungs.

Then, the tip of Joshua’s tongue flickers against your bottom lip, and you find yourself wrenched from your very first, far in the past, to the new first you’re experiencing now.

This first could not be more different.

It’s a deep burgundy, the color of wine, and you’re already drunk on the feeling of it, the taste of him. You open your mouth, eager and pliant, and his tongue finds yours. The hand on your hip tightens, the other on your face moving to your back, gripping the fabric of your shirt as he pulls you up against him. You’re vaguely aware of the fact that when your body meets his, when you feel him already growing half hard in his khakis, that a moan escapes you, one which he devours intently.

Your own hands can’t stay still, running up his arms and over his shoulders and down to his chest, his heart beating wildly against your palm. You let your fingers flit over his collar before sliding up the nape of his neck and tangling in his hair. It’s as soft as you’d imagined, and the contact makes him pull away, a breathy groan escaping him before he begins pressing kisses along your jaw. When he reaches your neck, his tongue and teeth begin gracing your skin just as much as his lips. His bites are gentle, soothed instantly with a swirl of his tongue, and you find yourself letting out the tiniest, neediest sounds.

A wildfire rages inside of you, your bones becoming ashen branches licked and burned by flames so hot and intense you wouldn’t be surprised if your skin was scorching to the touch. You’re so filled with want - so much, so fully, it’s almost unbearable. You’ve never needed anyone like this, and you’re not quite sure what to do about it. Desire blossoms like roses within your core, the edges of their petals singed by the heat that roils inside of you.

“Not enough,” you pant quietly, eyes clamping shut as his teeth do the same along your throat.

“What do you need?” he murmurs against your skin.

“More. Touch me more, please, I want-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s steering you back, gently pinning you to the cabinet you’d been sorting just a few moments ago. One of his knees slides between your legs, parting them, the hem of your skirt rising, his thigh gently nudging against your already sensitive clit as he settles in close to you. It’s enough to make you whimper, but not enough to sate you. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

He pulls away from your neck to look at you, leveling you with a gaze honey-dipped in lust, his eyes still sweet and soft, but achingly hungry. “May I?” he asks, running his thumbs over the collar of your dress shirt. You nod, eyes flitting to the locked door.

“Hurry.”

He smirks. “That can be arranged.” Then, with a harsh movement so sudden and sharp you don’t see it, he rips your shirt open, the topmost button popping straight off and clattering to the floor. You gasp, but he wastes no time, pulling the remaining fabric out of your skirt and clutching your ribs as he dives to your collarbone. He picks up where he left off, kissing and nipping and licking your skin until he reaches the center of your chest. His breath is hot against your sternum as his hands glide up to the back of your bra, delicately stroking the fabric there.

“Yes, please, yes,” you insist before he even gets the chance to ask. His nimble fingers make quick work of it, unlatching your bra and then moving his hands to your shoulders, pulling the straps and your shirt down, flinging them off your arms and onto the floor in one smooth motion.

Within the next moment, you arch your back and his mouth is around one of your nipples, his fingers playing with the other. His tongue swirls and teases, his teeth gentle at first. But as soon as you moan, he’s on you in earnest, pulling your nipple between his teeth until he feels you shudder. His thumb rolls lazily against your other breast until he decides to switch, making you gasp under your breath.

Within moments you find yourself bucking your hips, running your center along his thigh, desperate for friction. Your hands tangle in his hair again, and you’re somewhat certain you’re whispering his name like a prayer. Then, he drops to his knees, his hands moving from your breasts to your skirt, bunching it further up your waist until he’s level with your panties.

“Can I?” He looks up at you, his warm brown eyes simmering darkly with desire, but they’re just as tender and honest as they’ve ever been. His breath fans across your inner thighs, and your hips move forward ever so slightly, yet ever so eagerly in response that you should be embarrassed.

Now, it’s all you can do to whine and nod. But it’s enough for him.

One hand tugs the already soaked fabric of your panties aside so he can lick you, tongue hot and heavy, from your core to your clit, the clever muscle instantly coated in your wetness.

“Fuck,” his voice hitches as his lips wrap around that bundle of nerves, the hand not holding your panties open for him kneading a soothing rhythm into your thigh.

Time has no meaning, now. At first, you’re still somewhat cognizant. You can feel his fingers against your leg, methodical and purposeful. It’s grounding. Especially in comparison to the way his mouth moves against you. Sinful. Heavenly. A dichotomy that threatens to split you asunder, one part of your brain enraptured in pleasure, the other half a little afraid of how much you like it.

But then, his hand leaves your thigh. His fingers are suddenly sliding along your slit, discovering your entrance, coaxing it open with two fingers that he then pushes inside of you with no resistance.

Now, it’s all heat, it’s all so good, it’s all too much. Your stomach begins to knot, but the sensations of him keep going, keep building. The steady pressure of his fingers inside you, the gentle ministrations of his tongue against you. Every time he enters you is a strike of lightning, yet only curling tendrils of smoke and gentle dapples of sunlight play behind your eyelids. The visions are pale and soft and comforting as he drives you ever to your ecstasy in strokes so very determined, so very fervent.

You don’t last long.

“Joshua, I-” You try to warn him, but at the sound of his name he curls his fingers inside of you and you’re coming harder than you ever have before. The satisfaction trickles like melting ice from the top of your head, pooling in the molten center of your hips before shivering down your legs, leaving you shaking slightly and utterly breathless.

Finally, Joshua pulls away, his lips and chin slick with you, and he smiles, pleasant and delicate and so at odds with the way he just made you feel. You’re suddenly a bit light headed, so you let your knees buckle and your back slide down the cabinet until you’re sitting on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Joshua asks, his expression growing a touch worried.

You nod, smiling and sighing and letting your eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Very, very much better than alright,” you answer with a laugh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says quietly, and when you open your eyes to look at him, he’s still on his knees, licking clean the fingers that were inside of you mere moments ago, the fingers that just made you see stars. The sight of it makes you forget about how spent you are, replacing all other thoughts with one singular desire: him. Him, him, and more of him.

You shift to your knees, fingers flying to the buttons of his shirt as you kiss him, feverishly hot and fast. You can feel him grin, lips twisting away from yours for only a moment, amused by your short-lived exhaustion and renewed enthusiasm. He shrugs out of his shirt, his palms coming to caress your shoulder blades as your own hands run down his chest, skimming across his stomach, touch feather-light, before you begin to busy yourself with his belt.

When it’s unfastened, he pulls away and stands, tugging your hands to bring you up with him. His mouth returns to yours like a magnet, his body turning and guiding the pair of you towards the long-forgotten couch in the corner. When the back of your knees hit the rough old cushions, his hands dip to unzip your skirt. Thoroughly sick of any amount of fabric being between you, you shove it and your panties down your hips and legs, stepping out of them as Joshua does the same with his slacks and underwear. You get on your tip-toes, move to kiss him, but he dodges your advance, hands holding you in place by your waist.

“You can always say no to me, you know,” he murmurs, echoing the sentiment he’d expressed that evening in his office, the one with the golden light and vermouth, the one that set all of this into motion.

“Joshua, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never forgive you,” you breathe, words hitched with quiet laughter, and he joins you, chuckling softly.

“As you wish.” He kisses you again, and for a moment it’s baby blue cotton candy and friendship bracelets, but as he pushes you down into the couch, lays you out before him and slides lithely between your legs, a curtain falls. Now, you’re midnight and velvet, with fire and ice entwining along your spine, melting you like wax as you shiver.

It’s the first of many times in the coming weeks that you find yourselves like this, vignetted in stolen moments dark and quiet and sacred, drowning together in a bliss so sinful and fulfilling you think it might be your undoing.

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nanshe-of-nina · 2 months

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Favorite History Books || The Counts of Tripoli and Lebanon in the Twelfth Century: Sons of Saint-Gilles by Kevin James Lewis ★★★★☆

The Frankish county of Tripoli was not historically important, at least in the traditional sense. Its counts won no particularly great military victories beyond the conquest of the county itself and commissioned no great works of literature. The county’s archives were sacked in an epoch long past and their contents erased from history. Only paint flaking off forgotten church walls, once-mighty fortresses gutted by the fires of modern wars, and crumbling manuscripts in distant libraries stand testament to the fact that the county and its inhabitants existed at all. Yet the study of the county and its rulers is important in that it raises a number of hitherto unasked and unanswered questions regarding the development both of the so-called ‘crusader states’ and of Lebanon and Syria more generally. Though small, the county’s history encapsulates the principal forces that shook and shaped the Latin East as a whole. The county was not simply the product of European crusaders, but grew amid the verdant valleys of Lebanon, the forbidding heights of the Alawite mountains and the fertile plains that lay between. It was in this Syro-Lebanese context that the counts of Tripoli sought to establish their rule. In many ways, the manifold pressures on the counts were greater than those faced by other Frankish rulers. True, the threat of invasion seems to have been slighter because hostile forces preferred crossing the Jordan into the southern kingdom of Jerusalem, or the Orontes into the northern principality of Antioch, rather than over the mountains that cradled the county. However, the kings of Jerusalem and princes of Antioch did not face the same cultural complexity as in the Lebanon region, which made it all the harder for the counts to negotiate and enforce the terms of their power. … The present work is arranged chronologically and divided into five chapters. Chapter 1 focuses on two rulers: William Jordan of Cerdanya and Bertrand of Toulouse, rival claimants to what would become the county of Tripoli after the death of the crusader Raymond IV of Saint-Gilles and Toulouse in 1105. Chapters 2 and 3 concern the reigns of Count Pons and his son Raymond II respectively. Chapters 4 and 5 both deal with a single count: Raymond III, whose reign was by far the longest, arguably the most complex and easily the best documented – not to mention most debated. Raymond IV of Saint-Gilles himself, the first self-professed ‘count of Tripoli’, does not receive his own chapter or indeed much special attention at all beyond what is absolutely necessary for the purpose of setting the scene. It has been deemed wise to omit him from the present work since most of his life was spent in the west or else participating in the First Crusade at a time when the very existence of the county of Tripoli had yet to be imagined. As such, the structure of this present work questions Jean Richard’s influential belief that the county of Tripoli was primarily the product of Raymond IV’s ‘action personnelle’. More than one person determined the county’s existence and fate.

#historyedit #litedit #history books #house of toulouse #french history #lebanese history #syrian history #asian history #european history #history #medieval #nanshe's graphics

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daechwitatamic · 2 years

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Chapter 3: That's Life || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: What Was Hidden (Masterpost)

Rating: explicit, minors DNI pls

Genre: college!au, angst, eventual smut, strangers -> friends -> lovers -> idiots -> lovers

Pairings: Taehyung x female reader, MYG x OC

Summary: This is how it all starts: Taehyung is flunking Western Lit. You’re assigned to tutor him. His paper on Strindberg’s The Ghost Sonata could pass or fail him for the semester. As you and Taehyung slowly become friends, then more, you learn that there’s a lot more to him than you originally assumed. Together, you navigate your own experiences with the play’s themes: one’s “true self” versus one’s “shown self”, darkness behind the facade, and how people can be quite literally haunted - and it has nothing to do with ghosts.

In which Taehyung really struggles with Strindberg's themes.

Chapter Warnings: cursing, drinking

Word Count: 5k

I saw the sun and thought I saw what was hidden The Ghost Sonata | Scene III August Strindberg

Chapter 3: That’s Life

Thursday, November 8th

By the time Taehyung’s next tutoring appointment comes - at six o’clock the next evening - you’ve had such a day that you’re about ready to throw in the towel.

For starters, your schedule on Thursdays is so weird - you have a 10 am class and then nothing until 2:30; it’s this odd chunk of time where you’re never really fully able to get much done and you also can’t enjoy yourself because your brain knows your next class is looming.

Then, your tutoring hour with Rebecca is utterly exhausting. Lord, but that girl can talk. You spend the entire hour trying to get her to focus on her history homework and instead listening to her rant about her roommate drama - lights being left on, loud partying late at night, music without headphones, even some food-stealing.

(“Sounds egregious,” you murmur. “Speaking of egregious, let’s turn our attention to the start of World War II…”)

When you get to tell her that time is up and you have another appointment waiting, you’re relieved. So when Taehyung approaches your table, pulling his laptop out of a crossbody bag, you’re almost happy to see him. Because at least he’s not Becky.

“Hey,” he says, placing his laptop on the table and moving to hang his back from the back of the chair.

“Hi,” you say easily, giving a little wave before pulling up his files on your laptop. You’re obligated to provide documentation after each session, you guess to prove that you’re earning what they pay you, and maybe also to prove that the academic probation students are actually making an effort.

“I recorded Western Lit today,” he tells you, saving you from having to ask.

“Great!” you tell him. “Have you looked at the homework assignment yet?”

He logs in and pulls up the assignment, and you spend the first half hour going through each question together. You give pointers on where to start for each one, and Taehyung writes down your tips, intending to work on them later.

“I can work on these with you, if you want,” you offer. “Just in case you get stuck, especially since you didn’t do the reading yet?”

“I think I’ll be okay,” he says. “I really need your help with the paper. It counts as an exam grade.”

“That’s fine,” you say. “What’s the topic?”

He turns to rummage in his bag, coming back up with a tattered blue book, definitely bought second-hand at the school’s bookstore.

You feel your eyebrows skyrocket. “Strindberg? Shit.”

He sighs. “Was that a bad choice? The title looked cool… I started reading it last night… there’s a ghost and a mummy. I like spooky stuff.”

You smile, reaching over to pull the small text closer. The Ghost Sonata. You’d done your paper on it the previous winter, before all the stuff with Davis went down.

“Alright,” you say, looking back up at Taehyung. He’s looking down at your hand on his book, his black hair falling over his eyes, face serious. “So from what you read, did you notice any themes? Symbols? Any kind of pattern?”

He frowns, chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks. “I thought there was an interesting thing where the house looked really fancy from the outside but inside everything was decaying…”

“So that’s a good theme,” you say, pointing at him. “The facade and the reality behind it - that things aren’t as they seem, that they’re darker and grittier underneath it.”

His eyes flick up to yours and then back to the table, lightning quick.

“If you wanted to pick that for your paper,” you tell him, staunchly ignoring the flutter in your stomach, “you totally could.”

“Doesn’t it apply to the characters too?” he asks, frowning. “Like… if the theme is ‘how things are versus how they seem’...” He trails off, having had half the thought but struggling to complete it.

“Well, yeah,” you say, helping him out. “Many of the characters have that going on - what they seem at first, and then what you find out about them as the story continues. Plus, add in there many of them have the ghost or vampire or mummy thing - that’s another level of symbolism.”

“I never see symbolism on my own,” Taehyung admits with a sigh. “Once someone points them out to me, I get it. But I never read something and think ‘Oh, that’s a symbol for something’.”

“That’s fine,” you assure him. “That’s why my researching trick works. Look up what symbols other people found, and then look for the evidence yourself.”

You glance at the time and notice that your hour is almost up. “When’s the due date for this?” you ask.

“Two weeks,” he tells you.

“Okay,” you say, starting to pack up your loose papers. “Go through and highlight every time you see the facade theme, and then take notes about each part you highlighted. We’ll go through the notes on Wednesday when we meet. And feel free to email me if you get stuck on the Ibsen homework.”

He flips his notebook to an empty page and starts to write - your directions, probably. You watch as the glare from the overhead lights moves along the thick, shiny scar on his hand as he moves the pencil across the page.

“Don’t stare at it,” he murmurs, not taking his eyes off of his paper.

You straighten up, caught. “Sorry - I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I was just zoning out-.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, looking up at you now. “Just… it makes me feel weird. Don’t worry about it.”

He closes his notebook and his laptop, putting both carefully back in his bag. “You headed up to the caf for dinner?” he asks, eyeing the clock.

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at your phone to confirm. “My roommate is waiting for me, actually.”

“I’ll walk you,” he says easily, the seriousness that had hung over him for the last hour slipping away with ease as soon as he latches his bag.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say. “It’s a three-minute walk.”

He shrugs. “I have to eat, too,” he says.

So, for the second time, you leave the library together and head towards the concrete steps that lead to the cafeteria. It’s dark this time, and clouds cover what stars you should be able to see. A thin mist hangs around, illuminated by the orange glow of the streetlights that line the paved paths around campus.

You wave goodbye once you’re inside the cafeteria, and you scan for Kiko, who texted you that she was waiting. When you spot her at a two-person table near the back, you give her a little wave before going to get your food.

When you place your plate on the table and sit, she slides her phone into the pocket of her hoodie. She looks exhausted, deep bags under her eyes. You wonder if she’s been letting her courseload get the better of her.

“Hey,” she says, picking up her fork. “How was tutoring?”

You roll your eyes and tell her about Becky. She listens along and laughs at the right moments, but you can tell she’s got one eye on her phone, which lights up a few times while you’re talking.

“You can check that,” you tell her, smiling. “It’s fine. I’m not offended.”

She shoots you a grateful look and grabs the phone with both hands, typing quickly. As she finishes, she glances at you over the top of it.

“What about the second session?” she asks. “Didn’t you have two today?”

“Yeah,” you say, pushing a cherry tomato around your plate. “The second session was normal. We worked on a paper for a lit class with Watanabe. It’s actually one of the guys from Jin’s house - Taehyung? He’s here somewhere, he walked up with me.”

Kiko blinks at you, clearly trying to keep her face impassive. She’s not very good at it. “Oh yeah?” she asks. “Do you guys, like, talk a lot?”

“We talked a lot about Strindberg,” you say, smiling a little. “It’s my job, I’m not there to hang out. Besides, I’ve got him all figured out after that party last weekend. We wouldn’t have anything to talk about outside of the assignments.”

“Oh,” she says, deflating a little. “Gotcha.”

But as the two of you clear your plates and head back towards the dorm, you find yourself wanting to text Nina about tutoring with Taehyung. What for, you’re not sure. What would you even say? You enjoyed your hour of talking about 19th century plays? Of course you did, you loved lit classes. Nina would focus on the Taehyung of it all, and you don’t feel like getting all defensive right now.

When you let yourself into the room, Bridget is laying on the floor, watching something on the tv. “Hey babes,” she calls. “You ready for Thirsty Thursday?”

“I’ll have to pass,” you tell her. “I just spent two hours at tutoring, I have to finish a paper before class tomorrow.”

“Booooo,” she says, rolling to look at you both. “Kiko?”

“Why not?” Kiko says. “My homework is done. Unlike some people.”

“My homework isn’t not done because of poor time management,” you say darkly, shooting her a pretend scowl. “I had work. Some of us have jobs.”

She waves you off with a, “Yeah, yeah,” and sits by Bridget. They talk in low voices about the plan for the night as you sit at your desk and turn your laptop on, ready to get to work.

You’re still typing when they leave an hour later, the door shutting behind them with finality, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your clacking keyboard.

Friday, November 9th

You bail on Kiko and Bridget on Friday night, too, feeling more behind on a bigger project than you’d like to be. Usually it’s you partying with Bridget while Kiko begs off to study, and this switch-around feels strange.

When you whined about having to miss the fun two nights in a row, Bridget promised you’d all go out on Saturday, and you’re banking on her keeping her word.

You turn off the brighter overhead lights and turn on your twinkle lights and your small desk lamp and turn on some lo-fi music as you sit down with an open notebook. You’re about half an hour in when your phone lights up on the floor beside you, and you pick it up quickly, figuring it’s Kiko complaining.

[10:12 PM] Unknown Number: hey Y/N

[10:13 PM] Unknown Number: this is Taehyung - I got your number from Yoongi, I think he asked your roommate for it

[10:14 PM] Unknown Number: sorry if thats creepy, and also i know you’re off duty right now but I am stuck af on this paper ☹️

[10:15 PM] Unknown Number: do you mind helping me real quick? Like five minutes, i promise

You don’t answer for a minute, just staring at your screen, processing. One, Taehyung in on a Friday night to work on his essay seems very out of character. Two, Kiko and Yoongi are close enough now that Yoongi felt comfortable asking her for your number for Taehyung? It might be time to break your own rule and start asking some personal questions.

[10:19 PM] You: Hi Taehyung. What’s the problem with the paper?

Instead of a new text, your phone buzzes a long buzz, your screen coming alive with an incoming video call. What the fuck.

You swipe to accept the call, but you leave your phone on the floor so Taehyung has a nice view of your ceiling.

“Taehyung?” you inquire. “Is a video call really necessary?”

He laughs. “Sorry,” he says. “I really hate texting and calling. That was the most texts I’ve sent to anyone in weeks.” He’s clearly lounging on a couch in a grey hoodie, the hood scrunched up to cover only the back of his head. He looks… comfy.

“What are you stuck on?” you ask, wanting to get off this call as soon as you can.

He groans, rubbing at his face with his free hand, the one not holding the phone. “I typed up everything from my notes on the facade theme and I still need like two and a half pages.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you - he’s still only getting your ceiling. He might be comfortable being on a video call when he’s in comfy mode, but you aren’t. “Okay,” you say slowly, thinking. “I guess you need to talk about one more theme. If I give you a few ideas, can you do the same thing you did already and go back to look for the evidence yourself?”

“Yeah,” he says eagerly, obviously thrilled that you’ll do even that much for him. “That would be amazing.”

You think for a minute, trying to remember what you’d done for your own Strindberg paper, almost a whole year ago. “There are also themes of disillusionment… and also, the idea of hauntings and how we as people are haunted.”

He looks at you flatly. “It’s like you just spoke another language.”

You laugh, and he smiles in response. “Disillusionment is a big one,” you tell him. “Think about the main character from the beginning to the end - what he learns is that life sucks, right? He goes in really positive and by the ending he’s accepted that life is just darkness, there’s no one that gets out unscathed or unaffected.”

He licks his lips, looking away from you, clearly thinking about this. “Right,” he says finally. “And the hauntings?”

“Well,” you say slowly, “I thought about all the things we can be haunted by, as people. Like, in real life. I mean, what haunts you?”

When he doesn’t answer this, you explain. “Mistakes can haunt you… regrets… sometimes even your own expectations, like the future you thought you’d have, the person you thought you’d be. In that sense, you can haunt yourself.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer, just watches you evenly, so you continue. “You can even be haunted by… I don’t know, people you’ve lost? People that aren’t in your life anymore?”

Taehyung clears his throat. “That’s… wow, that’s a lot.”

You shrug, forgetting that he can’t see you. “That’s life.”

He shakes his head. “How does it connect back to the text, though? Beyond that there’s a ghost, I guess.”

You start to tell him, referring back to different characters and their own personal “hauntings”, and he shifts, clearly setting the phone against something to keep himself in the frame, but you can hear the tapping of keys as he types notes on what you’re saying. When you’re done explaining, he looks back at you, brow furrowed. You figure you’ve probably just broken his brain.

“Sorry,” you say with a small laugh. “I know that’s intense. Choose one - the disillusionment or the hauntings, and take your notes. I can look them over with you on Wednesday, that leaves you plenty of time to type it up before it’s due.”

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds strange, a little distant. “Thanks for the help, Y/N. I know you really didn’t have to.”

“I’ll send you the bill,” you joke.

He thanks you again, and you say goodbye, his face vanishing from your screen.

You lay back, heart pounding for no discernable reason. After a few minutes, you lift up your phone in the air so you can see it, and you save Taehyung’s number.

Saturday, November 10th

The next night, Saturday night, you finally get to make up for spending Thursday and Friday doing homework.

“We’re going into town,” Bridget tells you after dinner, her eyes on her phone, where the plans are being made. “You in?”

“Fucking yes,” you tell her. “Jin’s house?”

“No, we’re actually going to one of the bars downtown.”

Kiko is already out, so you text her as you heat up the curling iron to see if she wants to join you guys. She answers quickly, telling you she’s busy. Just you and Bridget tonight, which is fine.

You split a Lyft with two girls who room down the hall that you’re friendly with. The driver gives you girls a grin as she pulls up to the curb across the street from the bar. “Make good choices! Watch each other’s backs!” she calls to you as you all clamber out onto the street.

It’s crowded already, but not as bad as you know it will be in about two more hours. The girls you came with wave goodbye and head to the dancefloor, but you and Bridget push onwards to the bar first, ordering up a few rounds of shots. You two keep your spot at the bar for a long time, talking to groups of guys and other girls as they filter in and out to order their own drinks. You’re not a big dancer, but this feels fun - definitely better than standing around Seokjin’s smelly basement trying not to get splashed with beer.

It’s at least an hour later, your buzz strong and steady, that Bridget leans closer to you, eyes wide and she sees something behind you.

“Isn’t that Jungkook?” she asks, and starts heading that way, reaching for your hand as she goes. You let her drag you along, not knowing who Jungkook is, but when you get close enough to see the guys you wish you’d stayed back at the bar.

It’s Taehyung’s friend with the piercings and tattoos, and of course Taehyung is with him. So is Jimin, and a fourth guy you’ve never seen before.

Jungkook greets Bridget brightly, and you wait for Taehyung to try and act super chummy with you, but he doesn’t. He lifts his glass as a hello, but says nothing.

“Have you guys met my roommate?” Bridget asks.

“Most of us met last weekend,” you tell her.

“Not me,” says the new guy, reaching out to shake your hand. He’s got a nice voice - deep - and a firm grip. “Namjoon.”

You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. Bridget and Jungkook have turned their backs on you guys, heads together as they carry on a conversation. Jimin excuses himself and heads towards the dancefloor, and Taehyung follows him wordlessly, leaving you standing awkwardly with Namjoon.

“Do you live at Jin’s too?” you ask, just to make conversation. You watch Taehyung separate from Jimin and lean against the bar, then you remind yourself to pay attention to the conversation you’re having.

He smiles. “No, I have my own place in town. Close to here, actually. You go to the university?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m in my third year. Almost done. How do you know the guys?”

“I’m friends with Yoongi,” he explains. “So I’m at the house a lot. I know your roommates, but I never met you.”

“Oh, I - wait, roommates? You know Kiko too?”

His eyes widen, as if he’s inadvertently given away a secret. “I mean - uh - yeah? She’s been at the house with Yoongi almost every day this week?”

You’re floored, fucking flabbergasted. How had you not noticed? She’d been home every night, and even met you for dinner multiple times this week! When had she had the time to be gallivanting off-campus with Yoongi? And did Bridget know? Were you the only one who didn’t?

You suddenly realize that Yoongi isn’t there with the rest of the guys either. That must be where Kiko is tonight, why she told you she couldn’t go out.

“I need another drink,” you tell Namjoon, and you turn to head back to the bar. He follows you, leaving Jungkook and Bridget still talking animatedly about god-knows-what.

Taehyung is still at the bar, so you head towards his spot. He glances at you, then at Namjoon, and shifts over to make room for you. You catch the bartender’s eye and order three more shots, intending to share.

Taehyung’s arm is suddenly over your shoulders, heavy, and you realize for the first time that he’s already super drunk.

“This girl, Joon,” he says, shaking his head conspiratorially. “Be careful. She’ll just come out of nowhere and ask you shit like ‘what haunts you’-,” he mimics you in a sultry voice, and you’re not sure how to feel about that detail, “and then carry on like nothing happened. Shit, what haunts you, what the fuck was that?” he demands.

“An essay thesis?” you say, unsure. “It was an idea for an essay thesis?”

“You’ll have to excuse Taehyung,” Namjoon says, smiling, patting his friend on the shoulder. “He’s not his best self tonight.”

“The fuck I’m not,” Taehyung replies hotly, and then his arm is gone from your shoulders. He throws back the shot you bought for him and disappears into the crowd without saying goodbye.

When you and Bridget make it home - sometime after the bar closes at two - Kiko isn’t there.

[3:01 AM] You: are you safe?

[3:02 AM] Kiko✌️: yes, thanks for checking

[3:03 AM] Kiko✌️: see you tmrw

[3:06 AM] You: hey can you ask Yoongi to make sure Taehyung made it back okay? He was traaaaaaaaaaashed

[3:08 AM] Kiko✌️: …………….who said im w yoongi

[3:09 AM] You: 😇😇😇 ur secrets out babe

[3:12 AM] You: so???? Taehyung???? home safe???

–

[3:20 AM] Taehyung: ur worried about me? thats adorable

[3:22 AM] You: if u die i don’t get a paycheck 🤗🤗

Sunday, November 11th

When you wake up on Sunday, it’s after noon. Kiko’s still asleep (you never heard her come in, and you went to bed sometime around four in the morning) across the room. You can hear Bridget rolling over in the bunk above you, but it’s hard to tell if she’s awake or not.

You grab your phone from the charger and make sure you haven’t missed any calls or texts (you haven’t). After a few minutes, you get up and get dressed, stopping in the bathroom to pee and brush your teeth. Then, you make your way downstairs and outside.

It’s mid-November, and the weather got the memo. The sky is grouchy grey, the clouds hanging low. The wind nips at your exposed neck, and you pull your jacket tighter around your body as you speed-walk down the steps to the student center, and the cafe inside.

You expect it to be more crowded than it is, so when the barista hands you your coffee, you take it to a small corner booth instead of back to your room. You’re sitting there, spacing out a little, hands wrapped around the hot coffee cup, when your phone lights up on the table.

[12:57 PM] Taehyung: hey

[12:58 PM] Taehyung: Joon says I was a little much last night

[1:00 PM] Taehyung: so i wanted to apologize if i said or did anything out of line

You answer quickly and hit send before really thinking it through -

[1:01 PM] You: no worries, u were cute

You look at what you sent with wide eyes. That was… probably not the best choice of words. You rush to do damage control, adding -

[1:03 PM] You: it was funny, nothing out of line. I appreciate the concern tho

[1:07 PM] Taehyung: okay good. I honestly dont remember a lot of last night 😑

[1:09 PM] Taehyung: i don’t make a habit of doing that… jsyk

[1:12 PM] You: its not really my business 🤷‍♀️ see you wednesday, ok?

[1:19 PM] Taehyung: k.

–

When you return to your room, a hot refill sloshing around your cup, you can see the light from Kiko’s phone illuminating her face. She gives you a sleepy wave. You set your coffee down on her desk and kick off your shoes. You curl yourself into an L on the end of her bed, on top of the comforter, your head resting by her stomach.

“Hi,” she whispers. Bridget must still be asleep. “How’s the coffee?”

“Magical,” you whisper back, closing your eyes.

You’re both quiet for a minute, and then you look up at her. “Kiko? Anything you want to talk about?”

“Not really,” she says, apologetically, and it’s this tone that tells you that there are things worth talking about, and she is apologetic for not wanting to talk about them with you.

“You’ve been hanging at Jin’s a lot?” you ask casually, purposely leaving Yoongi’s name out of it.

“Mhm,” she says.

You wait.

Nothing.

“You’re okay, though?” you say finally. “Like, everything is alright?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “Everything’s… really good.” She smiles down at her hands, and you roll over her legs to vacate her bed. You know a lost cause when you see one. She isn’t going to tell you anything she doesn’t want to, and that’s fine. You look at your side of the room; you really don’t feel like sitting over there in silence while Bridget sleeps and Kiko keeps her secrets. You don’t have homework to do, either, since you knocked it all out on Thursday and Friday night. You decide to take your refilled coffee and go to your favorite spot, cold weather be damned.

At the end of the trail - the one you take to the train station - you can either stay on the paved trail and continue into town, or you can take a left onto a dirt path and enter a wilderness preserve with a lot of walking paths. There are quite a few of them, but they all loop around to meet in one central spot, kind of like spokes of a wheel. Your favorite spot is a bench at the end of one of these trails, overlooking the water there.

It’s a fifteen-minute walk to even get to the trailhead, and then another fifteen out to Your Bench, and by the time you get there your coffee cup is empty. You barely pass anyone the whole way there, because it’s freezing and all the smart people are inside.

You sit. You breathe. You watch the edge of the water lap at the muddy banks, rhythmic, like the lake is breathing in and out, steady and sleepy. Branches bob gently overhead, devoid of leaves, bare little arms defenseless against the November winds. Some ducks paddle around aimlessly, waiting to see if you’ll throw bread. It’s even better when the sun is shining, the trees are green, flowers blooming - but you’ll take it this way too. You exhale, feeling at peace again.

Until your phone buzzes against your palm.

[2:06 PM] Briiiiig: kiko thinks ur upset

[2:07 PM] You: i’m not

[2:09 PM] Briiiiig: she’s just private

[2:10 PM] You: i know.

[2:15 PM] You: did u know, tho?

[2:17 PM] Briiiiig: only bc the guys were gossiping abt it. she didnt tell me.

Well, that’s fair. A little bolstered, you decide to call and check up on Nina. Despite it being well after two o’clock, she answers sleepily.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s new?”

“Nothing,” she says through a yawn. “How about you?”

“Just at my spot by the trail,” you tell her, still watching the hopeful ducks. Nina yawns again. “Big night?” you ask.

“House party,” she tells you, still sounding mostly asleep.

“Nice,” you saw, toeing the dirt a little. “How was it?”

“It was awesome,” she tells you. “Hey, speaking of house parties… guess who texted me?”

“Who?”

“The guy from your campus? Hoseok?”

“Wow,” you say. “I thought you didn’t get his number.”

“I didn’t, but he found my insta and messaged me.”

“So are you guys talking now?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” she tells you. “I guess a little. I don’t know how into it I am.”

That sounds like Nina.

“Well, on a related note,” you say, “I’ve been talking to his housemate a bit -.” You’re about to add the because I’m tutoring him part, but she doesn’t let you get there.

“The guy from the party?” she interrupts. “Seriously?”

You pause. There’s an edge to her seriously that you’re not sure how to take.

“Is that a problem?” you ask flatly. You and Taehyung aren’t even talking - not the way the conversation implied, anyway - but that isn’t the point. The point is that if you were, this is how’d she’d react, apparently.

“No,” she says quickly, all innocence. “Just weird for you. You haven’t talked to a guy since Davis. And the guy from the party was so… fratty. Just doesn’t strike me as your type, that’s all.”

“I don’t think I have a type,” you say.

“Well,” she says lightly, “it’s nice to see you finally moving on from Davis. I’m happy for you. This is a good first step.”

It’s on your walk home, twenty minutes after telling Nina goodbye and heading back towards campus, that you realize you never did explain to her that you and Taehyung weren’t talking talking in the first place.

Thank you so much for being here! I appreciate every single like, reblog, comment, ask, or DM!

A thank you, as always, to my fabulous beta @kookstempo for the beta-ing and for putting up with my complaining all week as I've been sick!😘😘😘

#taehyung x reader #dailydaegu #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #s2l #taehyung angst #college au #f2l #bts fanfic #bts fic #fic: what was hidden #taehyung smut #(but not in this chapter for full disclosure)

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weaselandfriends · 11 months

Note

Is there a narrative/thematic reason Harper works for a drone company specifically?

In workplace ennui stories, like Dilbert and Office Space, it's often unclear what the protagonist actually does at their job, or even what their company does. For Cockatiel x Chameleon, my goal was to juxtapose Harper's ennui and sense of complete personal stagnation with a "real world" that remains intensely political and conflicted. This logic underlies the irony of the "End of History" motif. While Harper and even the impoverished Van Der Gramme are insulated from a history that continues with or without them, the other characters are repeatedly crushed by it. So, positioning Harper as some small cog in the military-industrial complex highlights that innate contradiction between Harper's lived experience and the political reality of the world.

Part I Chapter 6, which is the main chapter that deals with Crux Calico, is titled "Sun shining ecclesiastical"; readers of Cleveland Quixotic might better understand the reference to the Biblical Book of Ecclesiastes, in which the quote "Nothing new under the sun" is repeated to signify world-weariness and nihilism. The chapter title is rephrased to, ironically, convey a more positive connotation, a sort of celebration of sameness, which corresponds to the chapter's setting at a convention in which people from around the world gather in earnest enthusiasm of the company Harper views as a stagnant prison. The title is accompanied by a Futurist painting by Gino Severini depicting an armored train with soldiers; the Futurists, a group of primarily Italian painters in the early 1900s, were extremely excited by the prospects of machinery and war (to the extent that many went ahead and got themselves killed in World War I), and in some ways were predecessors to the fascist movement. (Royce Ru is also introduced in this chapter, and is a sort of Futurist in his own right.) All of this neatly sums up the inherent contradiction in Harper's existence: She is positioned on the bleeding edge of new technology that drives political conflict and change across the world, yet is herself devoid of hope or even the capacity to visualize a future for herself. (Part III Chapter 7 is another good place to look for this contradiction; there, Harper's "big boss" first describes the cyclical nature of wildfires as burning up an accumulated pile of "useless crap," then goes on to describe the capitalistic model of perpetual growth as essential for Crux Calico's continued survival.)

There are other reasons, though. The explanation of Crux Calico's hastily-assembled consumer products division, in which the company is described as being "autistic" (shortly after Harper's first real conversation with Sister, who bandies the word about frequently), dovetails nicely into the struggles Harper herself is having with interpersonal communication. This consumer division story, which details the conflict between American and Chinese drone companies, also brings up a specter that haunts Cockatiel x Chameleon: the looming conflict between the United States and China. Brought up a few times throughout the story, such as in Papimon's description of how her parents made her learn English and her twin sister learn Chinese to "hedge their bets," this seemingly cataclysmic future event is a constant nagging question to the motif of the "End of History." (To culminate this idea, I originally intended to have the story end with Van Der Gramme accepting a commission to draw porn for Chinese gacha game Genshin Impact, but couldn't find a way to fit it in.) Royce Ru, being a North American of Chinese descent, exemplifies his optimistic vision of the future by suggesting a union, rather than conflict, between these two spheres of power.

The last reason is a simple pun: a drone is also an insect in a colony, or a monotonous sound, both definitions suggesting dullness and tedium. I call attention to this by mentioning how official company correspondence refers to drones as UAVs due to a perceived negative connotation behind the word drone.

#cockatiel x chameleon #cxc #bavitz

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tinkerbelldetective · 1 year

Text

A Paragon’s Guide to Ghosts and Mystery III: Dreams of Sand

This one had me smiling as I wrote the latter half, I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Ch 1 Ch 2

Chapter III: Dreams of Sand

With a promise she'd be gone by noon, Nina stares at him. His eyes are the only part of him that shows age. Victor has such tired eyes. She realizes how long she's been staring and breaks eye contact for a moment.

"Thank you," she finally says, holding her hand out. He grasps it with only a flicker of confusion, and possibly concern.

"Be careful, Chosen One."

She nods.

She ascends the stairs of the house once more, a weight on her chest. Nostalgia and responsibility all at once. Her suitcase is half-closed when she reaches in for her pajamas and a towel. The Sun is setting, and she nearly wishes for a sign or an answer, or even a visit from Sarah.

The shower is warmer than she ever remembers it being, and the knowledge that she doesn't have to worry about Patricia deciding to run the water downstairs to make it clear it's her turn is satisfying. Still, there's no point in wasting water, and she only stays in long enough to calm down any racing thoughts.

She hums the song Fabian was working on, patting at the ends of her blonde waves in time with the chorus.

It's weird being in this room without a poster of Taylor Lautner over her bed or the presence of Amber, but this doesn't affect her once she actually slips into bed, the reality of another long train ride and early morning settling in. She falls asleep to a quiet Anubis house once more.

**********

Sand dug into her skin and grazed her forehead. Nina blinked, holding her hands around her eyes in an attempt to prevent or halt the stinging assault of the yellow grains. For a moment, she thought she saw someone or something, but the sand blocked and impaired her vision again.

"Can you help me find my way home?"

Nina jumped. A boy now stood beside her, one that had not been there seconds ago. He was young, only a child. She squinted her eyes in an attempt to see either the boy or where she was but couldn't make heads or tails of anything.

"Where are we?" A stupid question, she knew this was Egypt, but where?

The boy lifted his arm and pointed off in the distance.

"The labyrinth is up ahead. My father is helping to build it!"

A labyrinth? Like the book she had hidden the papyrus in?

"What's the labyrinth for?"

The boy opened his mouth, about to respond, but he vanished, leaving her alone in the sand for a moment before she too slipped away, the sound of the alarm on her phone calling her back to the soft bed underneath her. Hands flew up to wipe the non-existent desert sand from her eyes. Her mouth widened into a yawn. For a moment, Nina stared at the wall, before she broke into a grin.

Home.

**********

All the money she spends on air fare, the hours stuck in a seat, homesickness for a walk in Cuyahoga Valley, it's all worth it when she sees Fabian Rutter.

Fabian greets her with the same enchanting smile he saved only for her. The one that slowly spreads from one side to the other and glowed like Polaris in the night sky. His hand found hers, running his thumb across her knuckles in a small motion. She leans in with a smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He steps aside for Nina to enter, her free hand tugging the suitcase behind her.

Fabian's flat is warm and filled with natural light. Books line dark mahogany bookshelves for an entire length of a wall, including a new and unburnt signed copy of The Solar System is Your Friend. Lamps from Uncle Ade dot the end tables that sit in the corners. Two guitars are displayed near the bookshelf. It's all very homey, and she loves it.

Nina, of course, has left traces of her own in his flat, considering she basically lives here. A small American flag peaks out from one of the shelves, a gag she bought him as a stocking stuffer. A newspaper cutout that features The Ohio State Marching Band spelling out Ohio is framed near the door.

Nina let the feeling of her second home wash over her. She parks her suitcase by the front door before engulfing Fabian in a hug. His arms tightly pull her into him, still smiling. She comes up to the tips of her toes and slightly rocks side to side with joyous laughter. She pulls away, only to resume holding his hand.

"I have so much to tell you."

"I bet," he slightly chuckles, leading her into the kitchen.

"Victor definitely made more Elixir, he hasn't aged, like, at all."

"You don't think-" Fabian begins, concerned.

"I would hope not, he knows what the scales do. You remember how he reacted when faced with the consequences."

Fabian grimaced, "I hope you're right."

"We went to the Frobisher Library, and I found this!" Nina rushed into the living room and returned with a book, placing it on the table.

"A book on the lost labyrinth of Egypt?"

"No, well, yes, but look inside! It was hidden in the base of one of the shelves."

Fabian glanced inside curiously, "Nina, this is ancient Egyptian papyrus!"

"I know!" Nina leaned forward, "And if we can translate it and find out what it means, maybe I can find out what the spirit wanted."

Fabian looked at it a little longer. "This one looks familiar, maybe light?" He hovered his finger over the glyph.

"Mmm, maybe," Nina watched that frown he did when he was thinking grow. She could have spent all day with him at this table, trying to solve mysteries, but she remembered that all she had was a small cup of tea and a pastry before she caught the train this morning. "What do you want for lunch? I'm thinking chips."

Fabian looked up and tapped her nose.

"Let's go! Look how English you've become."

Nina laughed and wrinkled her nose.

**********

Nina couldn't decide whether the chips tasted better on their own or dipped in ketchup. She missed having hushpuppies though.

"You should come back home with me next break. I can't exactly bring ice cream from that place near the lake." Fabian swallowed his piece of fish and nodded.

"Okay, but we're seeing the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame first."

"Of course." A comfortable silence grew between them as they became lost in thought together.

A loud crunch broke the silence and Fabian looked down incredulously.

"I think that was all breading."

#A Paragon's Guide to Ghosts and Mystery #My HOA writing #fanfic #House of Anubis #Nina Martin #victor rodenmaar jr #Fabian Rutter #Fabina #Fabina Forever

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ronearoundblindly · 8 months

Text

The Stark Legacy (23)

Tony Stark's daughter (OC) x Bucky Barnes epic slowburn

Cryo, part of Book III: Power (see previous or series)

Summary: Bucky finds out what Sam's been doing to herself all this time, and Shuri explains how to fix it. Tony races to get back to Earth.

Warnings for vague illusions to self-experimentation. Rated Teen/15+ ONLY, please. WC 2.5k

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE—March 2039

Bucky stood with his head hanging over the coffin-like chamber, looking at Samantha’s peaceful face frozen inches below the small, frosty window. He regretted his decision, yet he still could think of no other option. Shuri, completing the cryogenic program, kept watch over the silent soldier. She hadn’t questioned him bursting into her lab with Sam unconscious in his arms. Bucky shrieked for Shuri to put Sam under, and he wouldn’t accept any delay. The glow had spread over Sam’s entire arm and crept towards her heart. He had been too terrified to let it continue; the simplest thing seemed to be putting Sam on ice.

Shuri did, however, have the wherewithal to accumulate as much information as she could from Sam’s body while the princess flash-froze the teen. From one minute of scans and rapidly-changing samples, however, the royal genius failed to extrapolate everything.

Hours later, with Bucky still standing above Sam’s chamber, Shuri returned from raiding the girl’s room for more answers, holding a brown, paper-wrapped package. “Barnes, what I am telling you is this is a mess. The Stark girl is a mess,” she started, ignoring the flicker of his eyes when she didn’t use Sam’s name, “even if I could delay this virus she has given herself—”

“I gave it to her,” Bucky corrected.

“—which I cannot at this moment—and you may have depressed a plunger, but Samantha Stark carried it with her into that wood.”

“It was my choice,” Bucky clarified, “she was already gone.”

“If I undo that,” Shuri continued, pointedly, “she will die from the incompatibility of her skin, which she was dying of anyway. Did you know she did that?”

Bucky made no reply, but when he finally looked up, his face was a mosaic of conflict. His jaw was tight, stoic; his eyes guilty and afraid; and his lips a full and unwavering frown. Shuri took no pleasure in explaining the grave prognosis.

“She would be dead if she—you—hadn’t injected the Extremis virus. That’s what this is. Her skin already starved her body.” Shuri could not tell whether Bucky was listening. “But,” she continued slowly, deliberately, “Samantha has not only dosed herself with two different viruses, neither of which has a cure currently, seeing as they are mutations of the original, but she has placed vibranium inextricably inside her largest body organ. If I take her out of this box,” she spread her fingers across the window, breaking Bucky’s stare, as if to smother Sam’s face, “and remove the vibranium from her skin—which I do not know how to do yet—during that time she is unfrozen, Extremis will consume her whole body, change her DNA, and there is no going back. If I take her out and cure her body from the inside—which I do not know how to do yet—she will still die before I can make her own skin survivable. Beside all of that, I do not have the time or resources to bother with her one life while there are multiple threats to our kingdom and across the planet. We do not even know if the metal-man Doom is dead. King Namor is still searching the sea for him. I am sorry, my friend, but she stays here. We will have to deal with her when the rest is handled.”

“When the hell was the last time we weren’t under threat?” Bucky’s jaw tightened, holding back a sudden stab of fury. “You mean, after all the enemies that have popped up constantly for two decades are all ‘handled,’ you finally get around to possibly saving her?”

“Don’t think I have forgotten about your arm. You are not in a position to demand anything of me, Barnes.” Shuri walked around the chamber to place her slender form within a foot of the bulky soldier. “I spent a great deal of time helping you once before. You attacked me, spat at me, and cursed me. I know it was not you who did those things. It was a dark part of yourself that we saved you from, but,” she looked directly into Bucky’s eyes with an unwavering determination, “that girl did this to herself. This was her choice. I will not allow one arrogant, foolish, white girl to distract me from aiding my people. I am sick of it. She can wait until her father takes her home for all I care.” Shuri walked over to one of her techs, adding, “take that chamber to the annex lab. Come, White Wolf.”

She activated her main workboard with a constellation of dots and lines—tracking routes for suspected D-Lite victims and the shipments that turned them—leaving Bucky standing over his greatest guilt in this decade thinking about all the other guilts from all his other decades. He tried to be a good man; he tried to right the past, but he always seemed to fail. Sam’s compartment was unceremoniously removed from the lab, and Bucky joined Shuri at the projection, resigned as ever to being instructed on how he might gleam a sliver of redemption for his mistakes.

“What is this,” Bucky mumbled, “Stark’s route back?”

“This is our analysis so far,” Shuri said flatly.

Bucky could see the faintest outline of the continents, but several of the dots fell outside of those anyway. It was a jumbled web. Dozens of threats, multiple origins, and half-verified, half-bullshit sightings and leads. He flicked through files in the corner with one finger. Some weren’t even threats: Parker’s newest recruits were classified as ‘unknown agents’ until fully vetted. Drug distributers and engineers, doctors, Victor Von Doom, Namor himself, general descriptions of actual monsters sighted terrorizing places from Morocco to Hong Kong.

“You see now why the girl will have to wait.” She took a deep breath before adding, “and I am convinced there is something big missing. I need to know what it is—who it is.” Shuri planted the small package in front of Bucky with a heavy thud. “She wiped all of her equipment. I found this in her room. I am not convinced she intended to be saved, James.”

He didn’t need to go to the annex to be haunted by Sam’s face. Bucky could vividly see the snowy flecks on her dark lashes, a fringe of pure white lining her periwinkle lips, her hair a dark grey in the light of her temporary coffin. Was it temporary though? The way the terrain of enemies stood now, it could be a lifetime before someone could help her. Suppressing the thought of explaining to her father what he’d done, Bucky stopped by Sam’s room before heading back to his hut. It was another all-nighter; dawn had broken two hours earlier. No wonder Shuri had been so short with him. He was surprised by how sparse and clinical the whole place had been made. What once was 98% laboratory and 2% laundry bin now lay in ruins. Almost everything had been quickly stripped and transferred to storage or the princess’s own lab. Bucky sat himself down in the remaining chair, placing the package with Sam’s all-caps handwriting prominently showing ‘Barnes’ facing him on the desk.

Bucky hadn’t considered that it mattered, what Sam did to herself before, or if he knew about it. Why should the other things Sam Stark tinkered with matter to him? None of Tony’s other projects did, and if anyone asked the billionaire, Tony answered with “evil genius shit, obviously.” Bucky had been trained, incidentally, to not question the technology that created him, and he had to admit that the promise of being made more human was too tempting to start arguing now.

He remembered Sam’s admission of being her own patient. He should have known; he should have pressed her, maybe then he could be of some use. The way she had behaved…how did Bucky not see how desperate she was? She’d sat at that very desk and comforted him, promised him his own wildest dreams, all while she was dying, slowly, probably painfully. Starved, Shuri had said, Sam had starved right before him, fainted even, and Bucky had done nothing but talk about dancing and taking up farming and having lived decade after decade with friends and family. Those same people, they should have been Sam’s family, too, but no one was here now.

Bucky picked up his gift. He sat, running his thumbs against the course paper. He took another long moment before running a finger under the corner of tape and ripping down.

A rust-burgundy box lay beneath with the label ‘James Buchanan’s Blended Scotch Whisky.’ He covered his mouth and shut his eyes. Aged 18 years, indeed. Bucky ran his fingers back and forth over his stubble, noting yet another unfamiliar feeling to his left hand. More than any other moment in his long life, he felt utterly helpless, but his guilt remained constant, an ever-flowing river beneath the stone surface. I cannot be responsible for another Stark’s death. The thought caught in his brain, rattling around, growing louder.

Bucky clutched the bottle in his hand, feeling his new flesh give way to glass. That simple sensation, gripping things with malleable pressure, was still so foreign. It was as disquieting as seeing the reflection of the Winter Soldier in a mirror: natural and terrifying all at once, half-memory and half-reality. The faces of Howard and Maria flashed before him as they had done countless times before, angled wide-eyed below him as their only granddaughter’s face had been just yesterday. Tony truly would kill him, and again Bucky would agree with Tony. He deserved it. His debts could never be repaid. He could not win.

He had more in common with her than he’d ever noticed before, yet there was a defined yin and yang to their histories. Bucky Barnes could not get out of this life serving the Avengers, and Samantha Stark could not get in.

“Hey, buddy,” Sam Wilson interrupted from the doorway, folding his arms across his chest as he cautiously watched Bucky. His dark eyes were sympathetic. He must have been curtailing his curiosity. It was unlike him to say so little, and without a wise-crack. The seated soldier would have bristled less if Falcon had called him ‘Bucko’ in this moment. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

They can describe space as lonely, vast, and cold all they want, but no one truly explains the maddening effects of spinning around in the equivalent of a tin can with nothing surrounding you for lightyears. Your brain is all you have, and the human brain is marvelously fallible. Everything about the human mind, and body, can be deceived in one way or another.

Just one more jump. He had to hold out for just one more, but still the memories bled into the joy that goal brought to him.

Tony could hear them now: Pepper and Sam. They were playing with these little colored blocks of different shapes. Tony sat down with them. Lil’Sam picked up a bright red cube, and at ten months old, chucked it at Tony’s head, hitting his cheekbone with a corner.

Pepper held eighteen-month-old Sam against her hip, staring up at the gigantic bronze statue of Captain Marvel, the woman who saved the universe by snapping her fingers twice. She whispered into her child’s ear, “I hope you never have to fight, sweetheart,” then looked at Tony, stretching out one hand to his. “Promise me,” she demanded.

Down in his headquarters’ lab, one of Tony’s latest adjustments to the suit caught fire while he worked late one night. Pepper rushed in, screaming about safety for the umpteenth time, the speech nearly drowned out by the roar of fire suppressant. Sam’s second birthday was later that week. His adjustment was supposed to be a little surprise at the party, shaped and colorful fireworks that he could launch from his flight stabilizers, but he gave up on it when he saw how red Pep’s face became trying to stop him from endangering a group of kids.

Tony graciously took teeter-tooter two-year-old Sam for the day while he scouted a new medical facility site with Happy near DC. He let her chase a butterfly around while assessing the terrain. Sam ended up with poison sumac over her hands and face. She cried for nearly two weeks.

Tony tripped right over her once.

He had to stop Sam from choking on a chicken finger.

He opened the fridge into her face, shut her finger in a drawer, forgot her in the tub.

All of this, and then he lost her mother…and then Sam almost got crushed by Hulk.

There was something Pepper said in jest over coffee one morning when the sumac was almost healed: “at this rate Tony, we’ll have to protect Sam from you.” Now, he couldn’t even ballpark how many times that thought had repeated in his head and his heart over the past years. How could he not be ashamed to be her father? Pepper was the only thing that kept him remotely qualified for the job, and without her Sam deserved better.

And so he had provided better. The Avengers were the best people Tony had ever known; they could do the job better than him. In his mourning, in his distraction, he was no use to Samantha.

Tony felt the familiar weightless flutter of his heart, as if gravity no longer held his insides down in one direction but crushed them from all sides. He’d had these pains since the wormhole over Stark Tower, and by now he was used to the feeling, able to shift his mind to jokes and movie quotes and sarcasm, but today was not the same.

He thought back to that horrible day on Titan, when Stephen Strange hummed like a tuning fork to predict their futures. Fourteen million, six hundred and five. Tony might be one of the few people who could honestly fathom that quantity of information; he dealt entirely in terabytes and megatons and exponentials. Tony’s global-thinking mind had not been prepared for a galactic shit-show that day, however, so he asked Strange: “how many’d we survive?”

The look Strange had given him, to this day, was indescribable, and more infuriating still were the sorcerer’s next words.

“Can you trust me, Stark?”

Beyond answering a question with another question, Tony met that guy the day before. Trust issues doesn’t even begin to cover it, Dumbledore. What is the god damn plan?! If this was what he invested his faith in, Tony would punch Strange in the face right now and die…

Nope. He still wouldn’t be happy. He had to see Sam first.

One last jump.

[Chapter 24: Daybreak]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#the stark legacy #tony stark's daughter #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #slow burn #slow build #epic tale #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction

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