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gosmigenergy · 7 months

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KINKTOBER 2023 / Day Nine

( Benny Miller x F!Reader )

SLUTWEAR / SQUIRTING/CUMSHOTS / PROSTITUTION/CAMMING/SEX-FOR-SERVICE

Summary: After learning that Benny is on Only Fans, he wants you to have a starring role in one of his videos. (Honestly, one of my favourite prompts on @absurdthirs's list!)

Warnings: Mentions of food, sex on camera, biting, oral - female receiving, fingering, squirting, P in V, unprotected sex (use protection irl please, even Benny would tell you), rough sex, a little begging, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.7k

Notes: I feel like I should give a little back story to the unprotected sex. In the ‘terms and conditions’ you joked about with Santiago, you did state what contraception you’re on and the boys know. You plus the boys are clean STI wise, you all got checked before entering the relationship.

Always use a condom irl for additional protection.

“You’re kidding.”

Benny had taken you to a diner not far from the match, his post-fight ritual of maple soaked pancakes very much needed. The pair of you were laughing over how you met, how your friends fawned over him, unable to keep their hands off his glistening abs but it was you who caught his attention. You who was shaking your head in disbelief at your friends’ adoration for a man they’d just watch fight but maybe now, things were making sense.

“You do not have an Only Fans,” you point your fork at him.

His smile broadens, “Of course I do.”

You wouldn’t put it passed him.

Benny’s physique is always in top form because of MMA, his sexual stamina off the charts if you compare it to the rest of the boys, he was energetic and charismatic and also packing.

Doing the math, it all adds up.

“Then show me.”

He rummages to find his phone out of his pocket, his thumb swiping before tapping the screen and handing it over.

At this time of night, there was rarely another soul in the place yet you still felt the need to hunch your frame and shield the screen from anyone else’s view. His top banner was a ridiculously good photo of his ass, his profile a backwards cap with a little embroidered white bunny. His profile reading:

‘Let’s work out together ;) Have a glimpse at my private nudes, post work-out showers and see what I can do with my hands! DM a request that tickles my fancy and you’ll be one lucky lady!’

“Why’d you start?”

“It was lockdown, I was bored and heard all these people mentioning it. When it paid for my rent that month, I didn’t find myself wanting to stop.”

You had no qualms with his reasoning.

“Gym Bunny?”

“I dunno, people liked watching me work out,” he sipped on his water, “and I fuck like a Duracell bunny so…”

You choke on your hot chocolate.

He watches as you try to compose yourself, hiding his smile as he shovelled more sweet, fluffy sponge into his mouth.

You were quick to flip the phone screen to the table before the waitress came to see if you were ok, you politely waved her off, Benny thanking her for bringing another glass of water. You attention returns to the phone, unable to stop looking.

Out of all the photos and videos, you realise there’s never been anyone else, your expression scrunches.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?”

He never pronounced the ‘g’.

“You’ve never had anyone else in your stuff.”

“I had plenty of offers to partake, never found a good enough match until you.”

You blush, breaking your eyes away as you pass his phone back to him. He sighed, slipping his hand into yours before it could escape, a thumb tracing on your knuckles. You met his eyes again, the colour brighter from the neon lights that beat down on him. His one cheekbone is pink and puffy with the swell of a punch, the eyebrow dressed with slithers of plaster.

You stretch your other hand, the cuff of Benny’s hoodie engulfing the palm you press to his injuries. You’ve seen worse on him, he’s seen worse than you could imagine but there he was still smiling.

“Just, think about it, yeah?”

“I will do, Bunny.”

He chuckles, leaning into you touch.

—

It was your next Saturday with Benny that you agreed to take part in one of his videos and Benny didn’t bring it up again until you spoke about it first, he listened to your terms.

“I don’t want my face on camera.”

“Easy, we’ll shoot it at an angle that cuts off you head, if your face is shown at any point, I’ll blur it out.”

“Wait, you know how to do that?”

He nodded, “One of the first things I learnt.”

You’d ask about that another time.

“I also don’t want to fuck in your gym.”

“We’ll take photos in the gym, fuck in the bedroom.”

“Can I wear the hat?”

“No, I wear the hat.”

You pout.

“I’ll take a couple of pictures with you wearing it once we’re done.”

You smile, bobbing on the balls of your feet. The initial nerves you had with this had spread to make something more exciting, you had been giddy since you stepped through the front door, much to Benny’s delight. You’d done exactly what he asked and arrived in your best sports gear, the ones that show off your silhouette.

“Anything else?”

“What are we gonna call each other?”

“Well, you can barely string a sentence together when I fuck y—“

You swat his chest and he pretends like it hurts.

“How about I call you Bunny?”

You blink, “But that’s you.”

He shrugged, “Maybe you could be the Bunny to my Gym.”

Your brows knot, head cocking to one side.

“Yeah, I heard it.”

Benny kissed you firmly on the lips before excusing himself, he would do a light workout to ‘get the glow’ and set up the space for a shoot, he’d call you when he was done. You tried to find ways of distracting yourself, wandering around the rooms of his house because you’d never received a formal tour and then you remembered this was the longest time you’d been in his place. He always took you out somewhere, a bar, a restaurant, the diner, anywhere but here.

Though you think you’d like to stay here much more.

Here was homely, cosy, decorated with framed photos of family and friends, little touches that notes Benny underneath that jack-the-lad personality.

You jump when he calls you.

Gripping the door handle, you notice your hand shaking a little.

He was glowing alright.

Sweat clung to each defined muscle, soaked through to his vest, his shorts pulled higher to display his thighs. Droplets fell from the ends of his dirty blonde locks hidden by his signature backwards cap.

He laughed, coming to you to close your agape jaw.

“So easily distracted.”

The temperature in your cheeks rises.

“I’ve taken some solo pics,” he guides you towards the bench. “Now, I know you know how to pose for photos but this is a little different, you’re gonna really need to exaggerate your assets, darlin’.”

You swallow, “Ok.”

He helped you loosen up, turned you into some sort of contortionist as he forced you to bend your back further and stick your ass out more. You were never going to become a model but with Benny as your photographer, you had every chance of becoming one.

After you’d relaxed, he introduced himself into the frame.

Benny’s approached to the photoshoot was much like how he was on match night, he mostly remained straight faced and gave direct instruction, gently moving you if he saw it fit. In all his serious though, his expression was soft around the edges and if you cracked, the corner of his lips curled and a swift laugh rose from his chest.

“God, that shot of your hand on my dick through my shorts looks so fucking good.”

Honestly, Benny got hard as soon as he started taking photos of you and when the opportunity arose, you took it. And it’s not like you weren’t turned on yourself, you felt your arousal pool between your thighs as you hovered millimetres away from him.

“Do you need to set up your room?”

“It won’t take long, kind of need you to sit in on it, if you don’t mind?”

You smile, “I’m happy to help.”

You perched at the end of the bed whilst Benny adjusted the lights. He’d already set them up ready, he was fiddling with the heights and moving them a fraction to the left or right, occasionally asking you to switch positions.

It was when he brought the camera and tripod in that you felt the knot in your stomach.

He noticed your demeanour change.

“Hey,” he cupped your face. “You ok?”

You try to smile but it’s fleeting, “Feeling a little nervous.”

The photoshoot felt so intoxicating but this, this was feeling like all eyes were on you.

“Bunny,” he’d slipped your new pet name a couple of times to get you used to it. He took you in both hands and crotched to be at your eye level. “You were fucking fantastic for those photos, if you want to tap out now you can.”

“But I want to do it.”

Benny got it.

He had sent nudes and dick pics to lovers in the past, filming your private life to go on a website was a different playing field, even he had first day jitters when he started. As long as you’re happy and comfortable, you’ll be fine and he can make sure you’re both of those things and more.

“Focus on me, even when you can’t see me, focus on what I’m doing. Remember your head isn’t in the shot, close your eyes if you need to, shut out the room, forget there’s even a camera.”

You give him a reassuring nod.

“The safe word is foxtrot if you change your mind.”

Santiago had gotten you used to a safe word, foxtrot shouldn’t be hard to remember, confusing them was more probable.

He brings a gentle kiss to your lips and you return, hot and heavy. Slipping a tongue over your bottom lip, he pulls himself away, biting the inside of his cheek. All he wanted to do was keep it going but he knew he needed to turn on the camera.

“Sorry, Bunny.”

He backs away.

“Where do you want me?”

His eyes flick to the screen, your pouting lips and nose just on the edge, already stripped down to your simple thong.

“Stay right there,” he winks.

You giggle at his display.

Pushing an index finger, Benny saunters back over to you, blocking the little red light from view. He angles himself to one side, pushing your one leg with his so your soaking panties are on view for all to see. Leaning over, he cups your face and kisses you on the lips slowly before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, pulling back.

He tilts your head towards the camera knowing all too well your swelling, parted lips would be in the shot, bringing his lips to your ear.

“They’re going to fucking love you,” he whispered, inaudible to the camera’s mic.

The shiver travelled down your spine, your back arching towards him as your breath hitched. He caught the gasp in his mouth with force, tongue slipping through to yours where they moved rhythmically. With one hand firmly holding onto the duvet, your other snaked over his broad shoulders to settle on the back of his neck. You leaned back, lengthening your neck and pushing out your tits just as he taught you.

He smoothed both hands over your body, ensuring he drew around every curve as they went to settle at your waist. He brushed his fabric covered cock along the inside of your leg, groaning at the friction.

You moved your hand back over and down the front of his chest, playing with the hem of his vest.

“You want this off?”

“Yes,” you say in a breath.

Benny took it off in one smooth motion, hat still attached to his head, and you wonder what the muscles in his back looked like on camera. You look up to him with doe eyes, mouth agape with a dumbfounded expression.

The smile on his face twists into a smirk.

“You’re too easy.”

“And you talk too much,” you quip back, your mouth working quicker than your brain.

What was that?!

He cocks his head, his one eyebrow arching, this was new and he liked it.

“Well, I better put my mouth to better use.”

Neither of you had a script or plan for this video but you getting cocky in your role was definitely something the two of you didn’t see coming. You swallowed, only having enough time to process the fact you were now in trouble, and the next thing you realised was Benny latched onto your neck.

You yelp softly as he sucks, his weight baring down.

The duvet grows taut under your hand, the other instinctively grabbing onto the first thing it can find, the elasticated waist of his shorts.

Once he parts his lips from you, he licks the wound then trails kisses down to your chest. He cups a breast in one hand and flicks his thumb against the hardening nipple, smiling at the sweet little noise that comes from your throat.

Kissing your breast twice, he draws a circle with his tongue before taking your nipple in his mouth and nuzzling.

Your head falls back, a moan escaping.

There’s a sense of movement along your forgotten thigh, his palm warm as he spreads you further apart. His touch is soft, brushing towards your crotch and back again, then he squeezes quickly and lightly three times. It was a signal every one of the boys used, three squeezes was asking if everything was ok when you couldn’t speak and you would give the same in return.

Your knuckles grazed his navel, three short squeezes.

His tongue darted to your nipple before he sunk his teeth in, a sharp tinge pulsing through the nerve endings and settling in your cunt, your walls twitching around nothing as your juices trickle, soaking your thong. He lets go, soothing with his mouth and sucking one last time, releasing your nipple with a pop.

Your head snaps up with the lack of touch and you meet his eyes as he straightens up to see your face. The grip you had on his shorts falls, fingertips delicate on his cock, the fabric shifts under your touch.

“Shall we show everyone how wet you are, hm?”

Stepping in front of you, his thumbs coil under the minute hem and you lift your hips for him to pull them off. He hooks them off one leg before making more of a show with the other, he hisses, seeing your glistening pussy.

“Shiiit.”

He steps to one side, lifting one leg and working your thong off, holding your ankle near his waist.

The temperature in your cheeks rises, your chest flushing.

“Oh, Bunny, you’re so wet for me.”

Benny loved how wet you could get.

The lights worked their magic and he rocked your hips carefully side to side for the camera to pick up that beautiful shine.

“Are you gonna play with me or not?”

You’re pouting at him.

“I’m only giving the viewers what they want,” he says, stroking the back of your thigh, coaxing a shudder from you.

Your eyes flitted to his bulge, his cock straining against it’s material prison.

“I’m sure they’d rather see that huge cock stretch my little pussy.”

It’s not like you told a lie, it’s just that Benny didn’t have you where he wanted you yet.

“They do but you’re not ready for me yet.”

Your eyebrows knotted, of course you were fucking ready for him, and that’s when it clicked that he probably wanted you writhing, quivering and pleading under him so his audience knew just how good he was.

His fingertips travel over your stomach, brushing through perfectly trimmed bikini line to rest on your mound. He takes a single finger, the one he uses on the trigger of a gun, and presses it delicately against your clit, your thighs twitching with the touch.

Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, a high pitched sound catches in your chest as he starts to draw circles.

Benny inspects the quirks in your face - the flare of your nostrils, how the colour leaves your lips as you try to stop yourself from making a noise, how your eyelashes flutter and cast shadows across you cheeks, hair sticking to your forehead.

He spreads two fingers through the outer lips of your pussy and groans in unison with you.

His palm still grazes your mound, the friction sending shockwaves through your spine as you lean your back to the bed. You fight every instinct that tells you to close your legs, loving the feel of his hand working it’s way through the muscles of your thigh.

But camera needs to see it, the audience needs to see it as he plunges two fingers knuckle deep into your slit.

You cry, toes curling.

The squelching from your pussy was obscene, it filled your ears and seemingly echoed around the room. Benny worked his fingers in and out at an alarming pace, your slick coating his fingers, dripping to the duvet.

You could feel the knot growing tighter in your stomach, the tension in your core building as he figured out the spot that gained the biggest reaction, your body against you. Throwing an arm over your eyes, you squeeze your eyes shut, dots appearing in your vision as you felt your loins burn.

He knew how to break you in so many ways yet what he chose to do next was new.

His thumb came to your clit, playing with that oversensitive pearl, easing you into a sense of comfort before he pinched his hand. The fingers in your cunt hit that spongey spot and his thumb pressed hard.

You scream, the surge of your orgasm rushing through your body, spraying your juices over his hand to a puddle on the floor.

“That’s it.”

Your legs vibrate, chest rising and falling quickly as you try to recover, a few more squirts slipping out.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your stomach which twitched at the touch. Continuing to rub your clit with all his fingers, he comes to your ear to whisper.

“Pope told me you could be a squirter.”

Dick.

However, two could play that game.

“Your brother knew first.”

Benny hunched over, laughter rolling from his chest, “Ouch.”

“But maybe you could make me squirt from your cock?”

He always loved a challenge.

Straightening up, he stepped back as if he was admiring his work before he spoke aloud for the camera to pick up.

“You want to cum all over my cock next, Bunny?”

“Yes, please.”

You lift yourself up to watch as he yanks his hard cock free, the tip coated in pre cum. Taking the camera, he covers one hand over the lens and brings the tripod closer.

“Hold your leg up, make sure they can see you.”

He taps your one leg and you cup under the knee, bringing it towards your chest, angling it to the side to open up your pussy. From the screen on the back, he sees how soaked you are, droplets clinging and rolling down your skin.

Taking his cock in his hand, he glides the tip up and down your folds, notching your clit as it passes. You whimper, shivering as goosebumps arrive to your thighs. His fingertips brush along the side of your other leg, bringing your attention to him.

Benny smiles softly before mouthing ‘relax’.

Off camera, you take his hand in yours and squeeze three times then lean back to the safety of the bed. He pushes into your entrance, head dipped to watch as your folds stretch around him, stopping at his tip for you to adjust around him. His lack of movement has you mewling, walls clenching to what they can get.

Pressing a palm to the lower part of your stomach, he slides further in, a chuckle catching in a groan.

“You feel so fucking good.”

He takes you at a languid pace, his hips rolling to make a show of pulling in and out of you, the tip of his cock peeking before he pushes back in. Each blow has a soft but sweet singular grunt slipping from your lips. His thumb moves to press over your clit, stoking the flame of desire in your lower belly and sending through your body in a silent cry. As he begins to rub that sensitive bud, your hand snaps to his wrist with a sharp slap.

It’s the first time you’ve ever seen Benny’s eyes turn dark, a hooded glance to you as a smile curled on his lips. His other hand cups your ass before holding you above the safety of the bed. He slides out, your building arousal aiding in the smooth motion.

His next thrust fills you to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” you cry.

You see the bliss come to his face, his long lashes fluttering, head tilting as he slowly draws back, the friction of your closing walls almost keeping him in. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard before he comes back to his senses, dropping his head and honing in on your pussy like it’s a target.

Then he’s nothing but relentless.

He thrusts are fast yet heavy, the force of each one rutting you deeper into the mattress, your one hand bundling the duvet into fist as you try to hold on. His fingernails bury into the flesh of your ass while your nails sink further into his wrist, his thumb plucking your clit as if you were a stringed instrument set to break under his use.

Words tumble out of you yet you’re overflowing with pleasure and have no idea if anything you say is making sense, whether anything you say is actually getting through to him.

Benny snarls, your walls pulsating around his cock, legs trembling.

You’re close, you’re so fucking close.

With his palm still outstretched, he leans into your stomach and hears your protests before every part of you goes rigid.

You scream, your juices seeping before he pulls himself out, allowing the floodgates to open. He knows it’s downright filthy, hearing the gush and the splash as you practically ruin his laminate flooring but he’s so enamoured with you right now.

His cock is twitching, balls heavy.

Your body goes limp, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, closing your eyes as the room spins. Benny presses a kiss to your stomach, shockwaves dancing through muscle, spreading a luscious warmth.

“Want me to fill you with my cum?” He notches his tip at your entrance.

“Yes,” your voice is hoarse, “Please, please, please.”

He won’t last long.

Your inner walls hug him as he reenters, the noise of your wetness obscene against the slap of his hips against yours. He lasts another minute before his movements begin to stutter.

In your cock drunk haze, you prop yourself up on an elbow, your other hand stretching to run your fingertips down his chest. The sweat clings to the ridges as his abdominals tighten, your feather light touch electrifying as he thrusts as deep as he can go, your breath hitching.

With a groan, he spills his seed inside you, coating your walls.

His flexed muscles go slack, his balls throbbing as he milks himself. Sighing, he pulls out his cock and watches his creamy cum spill with a gurgle.

Looking up at him, a meek smile on your lips and it’s like the Benny you know everyday comes back into the room. His hand immediately reaches to the camera and with an accompanying bleep, the red dot goes out. He collapses onto you, hands roaming each inch of you, lips kissing every patch of skin and he starts rambling.

“I went too hard, I’m sorry darlin’,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

Even as you throw the hat from his head and run your fingers through his hair, over his shoulders, he won’t stop apologising.

“Benny, Benny…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his lips hanging loose as he meets your eye.

“Benny,” your voice is delicate, your hands cupping his face and drawing him closer, thumbs rubbing his cheeks. “It’s ok, I’m ok.”

He brushed a hand over your swollen pussy and you flinch, his brows furrow.

“It’s just a little sore.”

He’s not satisfied with your answer, you were going to be a little more than sore but he gladly slanted his lips over yours, sinking deeper, catching your sigh in his mouth.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The room gradually came into view, luminous like you were still riding out your high.

Benny returned from the bathroom with a warm, damp towel. Dipping it between your folds, he cleaned the mess the pair of you made, his touch gentle.

“How are you still hard?”

He grins, “Remember, Duracell bunny.”

“How could I forget,” you giggle.

He continues to tidy away the equipment whilst you climb into the bed, nestling into the plump pillows. Your eyes grow heavy as you admire him, his hands as they wrapped around chrome stands, how easy he carries them over his shoulder, the other towel he brought in just to mop up your arousal from the floor.

“Benny,” you call him. “Come to bed.”

He stops what he’s doing though he’s almost done.

Sliding under the duvet, he waits for you to shuffle to him, an arm coiling around you frame, a hand resting on the small of your back. You tuck your head under his chin, a palm resting over his chest, his heartbeat steady.

“I love you, Bunny,” you say with a smile, closing your eyes.

He scoffs, “Love you too.”

When you come round, the room is plummeting into darkness, outside the sun setting low. The space where Benny lay was empty, creases in the bed sheets the only remanence of his presence. He’d flicked the bedside lamp on and left a t-shirt folded at the end of the bed, the towel gone from the floor.

Pulling on his metal band tee, you wander to the bathroom to pee, the house mostly silent except for the sound of clicking computer keys.

You freshen up before going to find him.

You never considered Benny to be the tech guy of the boys but his set up put yours to shame. He had crammed everything into what appeared to be a utility room, sound proof panels along the windowless walls and lights that filled the room with an ambient glow. He was basking in front of two screens, one with a web browser on, the other playing through the footage you both recorded, headphones clamped to his ears.

Creeping up behind him, you run your palms over his chest.

His finger pressed down on the mouse and the video paused, his other hand pulling off his headphones.

“How’s it looking?” You query, placing a kiss to his temple.

The smell of his aftershave hits your nostrils, his hair roughly towel dried.

“It looks really fucking good, I think it could go viral.”

He turns his head, bringing his lips to yours. Hooking his arm over your back, he holds you closer before you have to come up for air. You lick your lips, the taste of beer linger and you suddenly realise how parched you are.

Your eyes go to the screen.

“Shit, am I always that messy?”

“Yep,” his smile broadens. “Why do you think we all love that pussy so much?”

Your expression scrunches playfully, a joking ‘ew’ coming from your mouth and you wriggle free from his hold.

“You want another?”

“Sure, darlin’, do you mind if I keep editing?”

You glance over your shoulder, “Not at all, as long as I can sit in.”

His heart could burst, first you say yes to starring in his feature, now you want to edit. It was usually such a lonely process, he could use the company, also another eye on this will help spot the issues he doesn’t catch. Not that he thinks there will be.

Watching the two of you back was uncomfortable at first. You had never really heard yourself on camera especially how you sound when you’re being teased with and played with before being fucked raw. Yet the more you watched, the less you squirmed or looked away in embarrassment, you actually enjoyed it.

There was a spark of desire low.

Benny couldn’t stop looking at you, his eyes flicking from the screen and back again. You leaned from the beanbag chair with utter wonder, head cocking in intrigue. It startled him when you finally spoke after an hour.

“Have you thought about doing merch?”

And that’s when he knew, you were hooked on this shit.

#kinktober 2023 #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #benny miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #kinktober #it could only be benny right?

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shadowmaat · 3 months

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A llama for drama

I've been thinking about why I tend to get really interested in drama/scandals that have nothing at all to do with me.

Part of it is, of course, escapism. The world is so full of horrors right now that being able to focus on something less dire but still fully dramatic is, I guess, a bit of a relief. "Haha, the world is on fire, but this tiktokker is trying to sue people for hurting her feelings!"

I think another part of it is just that controversies sometimes provide a fascinating glimpse into the lives of other people and how organizations operate. I'll never have a book eligible for a Hugo, but reading about the wild amounts of incompetence and failures at the most basic levels from the award admins highlights some pretty serious issues with the way they operate.

It can also be a little reassuring. My life is nowhere near what I hoped it'd be, but at least I can say that I never tried to discredit a professional safety engineer by implying he was a pervert for having examples of his work in his home. I never submitted official documentation full of personal insults, speculation, and irrelevant material. And I never ridiculed anyone or accused them of not understanding "basic English" just because they wanted clarification from me about a questionable judgement I made.

That said, the "larger" effects can be interesting, too. The Hugo Awards have been rife with controversy for years and have made some pretty idiotic choices (Raytheon as a sponsor? Really?), but the Chengdu situation is calling into question the very validity of the selection process. The deeper you dig into how the thing is organized, the more WTF you find. Will this be what finally breaks the Hugos in half and sinks their ship? Probably not, but I know a lot of people who will no longer take them seriously. Not without a lot of overhaul and some honest Q&A.

The Lauren the Mortician thing is more of a gift that keeps on giving. LOL! One aspect is the weaponization of frivolous copyright claims. That's a known and ongoing problem in the modern world, but it's clear this is something Lauren does whenever anyone criticizes her, but now it's very likely to backfire on her because she's decided to bring her grievances to the attention of the court.

Another aspect is how she and her lawyer SWATted one of the people she's trying to sue. That is every bit as horrifying as you think it is. I think they thought they could fly it under the radar except their victim paid to have the transcripts made available, so the malice is pretty clear.

Then there's the lawyer. I assume that she does, in fact, hold an actual degree that allows her to practice law, but boy howdy does it strip away the idea that you need to be smart to be a lawyer. She tries to use "The Law" as a shield, but it's clear she has no idea how the laws she's trying to weaponize actually work. A judge actually had to explain it to her. She also doesn't use a spellcheck on legally submitted documents, makes vague accusations rather than providing concrete examples, and writes Cease & Desist letters so massively unprofessional (and badly spelled) that other lawyers are left clutching their heads and laughing in horror.

And, well, I could go on and on about every piece of trash in this particular dumpster fire, but we'd be here all day and I have better things to do. lol! Grab some popcorn and look it up yourself. For legal analysis I recommend Runcle of the Bailey, a Canadian lawyer who's been following this out of morbid fascination (thanks for pointing me to him, bluemaskedkarma).

Oddly enough the "Emmy snub" drama that's cropped up isn't as interesting to me. Probably because, unlike the Hugos, which at least had a smidge of respectability, the Emmies are more widely known to be corrupt and meaningless.

Anyway, I have a feeling we're never going to get any real answers from the Hugo admins, so unless someone actually speaks up and admits to wrongdoing I think they're just gonna try and wait this one out and plan for the next big shindig.

Lauren's case is still evolving. If no one talks any sense into her (if that's even possible) then there's a good chance this will not only go to court, but do so in California, which has anti-SLAPP laws so aggressive there may be nothing left of her when it's over. We can only hope.

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therese-lokidottir · 5 months

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The Avengers: Earth Mightiest Heroes series watch

Widow's Sting written Kevin Burke & Chris Wyatt

There is a meeting between HYDRA and AIM, where Modok is talking about studying the Cosmic Cube. This weapon has the power to grant any wish and can give HYDRA the power to conquer the world. Though Modok is going to need more time to make it work. The Meeting is broken up by Hawkeye who demands to know the location of the Black Widow.

There's a shoot-out Hawkeye knocks a good number of the henchmen, but both Grim Reaper and Modok manage to flee. Shield flies in and demands to have a meeting with Hawkeye. Fury chews out Hawkeye for interrupting Shields's operation. However, Hawkeye is more annoyed because they have failed to capture the Black Widow themselves. Fury defends himself saying Hawkeye should know how elusive she is considering they were partners. Tony reluctantly agrees with Fury. There's not much they can do to find Widow and they still need to deal with the aftermath of the breakout, but Hawkeye refuses to back down and storms out. He'll find her alone if he has to.

Captain America and Black Panther speak with Hawkeye. They say he shouldn't be so focused on revenge and doing this all alone won't be good for him. An old friend of Haweyes, Bobbi Morse no under the alias of Mockingbird walks in and offers her help which Hawkeye quickly accepts

The Mockingbird tries to help the team by showing them the HYDRA safe houses and storage facilities. However, the other heroes ignore her advice. They suspect that she is trying to mislead them and they have been following Black Widow's trail through a tracking device planted on the Grim Reaper by Hawkeye during their last encounter. Their plan is to use the device to locate Baron Strucker, with the expectation that the Widow will soon follow.

Hawkeye and Mockingbird launch an attack on the Reaper when he is about to change transport, but unfortunately, they are beaten and captured. However, this was all part of their plan to get closer to Strucker, with Captain America and Black Panther not too far behind. The only problem is that the HYDRA transport they are on has a cloaking device that prevents the tracking device from working.

Hawkeye and Mockingbird find themselves imprisoned and alone. Unexpectedly, Black Widow pays them a visit in their dungeon. Just as she is about to speak, Hawkeye interrupts her and swears to take revenge. After Black Widow leaves, Hawkeye breaks out of his cell.

It turns out that AIM has been delaying HYDRA and no one expected the Cosmic Cube to work. Now, however, it does, and MODOC must reconsider its plans.

Hawkeye and Mockingbird attempt to take down Baron Strucker for the second time but are outnumbered. Fortunately, Cap and Black Panther arrive and join the fight. While Cap corners Strucker, he activates a self-destruct sequence for the base. Widow jumps in to save him, and Hawkeye gets a clear shot at her while she's escaping with Strucker. However, Hawkeye sees Viper about to attack a restrained Mockingbird and chooses to save Bobbi by taking the shot instead.

During a mission, Hawkeye chases after Black Widow, who is trying to escape. The two engage in a battle where they manage to disarm each other and start fighting hand-to-hand. Widow proves to be better in this combat, and she manages to disable Hawkeye. However, Strucker insists on finishing him off and begins to drain his life force. Surprisingly, Widow saves him. But she takes the knocked-out Strucker and flees. Captain America and Black Panther arrive to rescue Hawkeye, and Fury brings the Helicarrier to extract Mockingbird. Eventually, the HYDRA Island is destroyed in flames. While regrouping at the docks Widow tells Strucker that it was Black Panther who knocked him out. Modok flies in to return the money that Hydra has paid him claiming that the cosmic cube project was a failure. He leaves claiming that Aim will be working on a new project for Hydra soon enough, however, Strucker is suspicious of Modok's true intentions

Back at Shield's headquarters Fury shows Mockingbird Viper's body has now transformed into that of an alien Skrull.

I loved this episodes. Once again, this show does a great job of setting multiple plots at once and continuing them and it does it in a way that doesn't feel crowded.

I immediately like it how it was Cap and America and Black Panther were the ones helping out Hawkeye. Showing Steve support for his team and containing on Black Panther and Hawkeye kind of being buddies.

Hawkeye gets to showing his wits seeing right through Fury's tactics using Mockingbird and being able to use it to his advantage. I am a little curious about Fury's mindset though. Like, he's not really here for superheroes, but apparently, it's him giving his top agents mask identities. Alright, Nick whatever you think is best.

This episode sets up for secret invasion, although it won't fully playout until next the season. It's crazy watching the MCU complete mess right now and then see a children's show understand how to tell a serialized story.

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choilacanth · 2 years

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While many sketches are still in WIP purgatory, have something on Darra’s magic and work with the College of Winterhold and Neloth

For most of her life as a young Dunmer adult, she never thought it was an ability worth pursuing as she didn’t think of herself as particularly talented, and thought it would be better to work near her aging parents.

In the 30 years before Helgen, she used magic primarily for utility (keep hot drinks hot! calm down that horse! freshen up that face! banish foul odors! family planning!) and to keep herself safe on the roads with simple destruction and illusion spells.

After Helgen, she pops over to the College of Winterhold then balks at how cold it is and how expensive rooms and books are, so she drops out and applies to be a field researcher of whatever topic some faculty is interested in to fund her books. She primarily reports to Arniel Gane, who lets her do whatever as long as she brings him Dwemer parts, and when she is not in the College she spends some time each week pondering an orb for Wizard Zoom purposes. [1]

Darra slowly advances in multiple branches of magic, save for Restoration, which she loses a lot of access to because of how the dragon souls interfered with her own magicka channels. In place of healing and ward spells, she can staunch wounds and armor herself with Alteration, as well as cast an Alteration-based shield rather than a ward. Darra’s main offense consists of blasts of fire and ice spears, both of which become forceful enough to punch through dragonhide. She also develops several clever techniques, such as casting Ironflesh then Whirlwind Sprinting into larger enemies, also creating exploding steam clouds from moisture on her skin.

Eventually, Urag-gro Shub has a job for her, to retrieve a rare tome in Solstheim, and she jumps at the opportunity to skip town for a while, having been consistently harangued by dragons and prophecies [2]. Archmage Savos Aren suggests she use her trip to build some rapport with Telvanni Master Wizard Neloth for cross-cultural exchange[3].

In Solstheim, meeting Teldryn Sero (again, for the first time in 30 years) proves very useful, as he is surprisingly decent in healing both of them. (”How did you last this long without it, serjo?”) Also against his advice, Darra takes on all kinds of odd jobs for Neloth in his ash research to gain access to his past notes on Dwemer ruins and other topics.

There are many, many, many topics, but the Telvanni are quite paranoid about their work and Neloth finds the College has little to offer him. (And they even send this nobody? Seriously, mages these days...) Though unpleasant for both Darra and Teldryn, working with Neloth proves somewhat fruitful after bothering him enough times, and she becomes his apprentice’s apprentice and opens Neloth’s library of Second and Third Era spells that have since been outlawed. She thinks she got a good deal, having received some rare antique tomes and a Black Book, but Neloth really paid her with the old fluff he uses to prop the door open. Teldryn makes her negotiate their actual payment in gold on top of the books.

Darra eventually learns to levitate, jump, slow fall, and other crazy Morrowind spells. Eventually. [4]

She brings home the books and her other findings on ash guardians and Dwemer devices to the Winterhold faculty, who shake their heads at all this material they can’t use due to the number of OSHA violations they would have to report. She can keep the books, though, they just look the other way.

Her studies get more serious after she returns to Skyrim and resolves to fulfill the Dragonborn prophecy, but she does get sidetracked by some strange phenomenon from the Saarthal excavation...

Footnotes

[1] When having research meetings using the scrying orbs, Darra’s image is always shaky because she’s talking on a carriage or on horseback. Drevis Neloren is always late to the meetings and always has technical problems or a cat meowing in the background and knocking his orb over. Archmage Savos Aren falls asleep.

[2] Inigo also gets employed full-time by the Dawnguard, so while Darra is happy for him, she decides she has to keep busy and take care of herself unless she changes her mind and goes vampire hunting with him.

[3] the Archmage suggests this after being turned down by all the other Dunmer, namely Brelyna Maryon and Drevis Neloren, who both declined a trip to Tel Mithryn for various sensible reasons.

Brelyna: “I'm incredibly sorry, the family situation is awkward.”

Drevis: “I have to decline, I have a very important experiment to monitor. All the time. I must take measurements. Myself. Send Salvi, she doesn’t mind field work.”

[4] Teldryn does not do crazy Morrowind magic, possibly except Water Walking and Slowfall. He vividly remembers the day he decided that he saw enough fractured tibias when the kids his age were all trying to jump-levitate to the temple rooftop.

#darra salvi #skyrim #choi writes

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bridgyrose · 1 year

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Casmos quickly packed up her bag and looked out the window of the estate her parents had left her in for studies with diplomacy and politics. She was told her gifts would help with bringing fame and fortune to her family name, that as a celestial, people would follow her and be willing to listen. However, she thought differently about her so-called “gifts”. Golden eyes and skin that seemed to radiate celestial energy calmed those around her, but worried her that they’d only ever see her as an angel rather than the person she was.

“Miss Casmos, where do you think you’re going?”

Casmos slowly turned around to see one of the servants standing at the doorway, a small lantern lit in his hand. “I’m… leaving.”

“Leaving to where?” the servant asked as she stepped closer. “You know your parents just want the best for you.”

“I dont want to be here! I want to be out there with the other children! To make my own choices, not do whatever my parents think will bring fame to their name!”

“And where will you go?”

“I… I dont know. Somewhere.”

The servant let out a heavy sigh and sat the lamp down as she pulled out a sword. “I’m sorry, but I cant allow you to leave.”

Casmos shakily picked up her own sword and held it out in front of her. Her mind raced as she tried to remember her training, only to feel cold steel slam into her and knock her down. Without thinking, she grabbed the servant’s sword with one hand and her hand with another as she cast light on both. A brilliant, blinding light sent the servant backwards in a blinded rage. Without a second thought, Casmos grabbed her bag and jumped out the window as shattered glass fell around her.

The servant looked out the window as she watched Casmos run off into the night. “They’ll find you and bring you back! They’ll always find you!”

Casmos ran through the city and made her way to the nearest tavern to hide, her eyes glowing as she made her way through the dark streets. She was stopped by someone grabbing her shoulder and pulling her off the streets with a firm grip.

“And what do we have here?” a man asked as he looked Casmos over. “A lost child shouldnt be wandering the streets at night.”

“I’m not wandering, I’m running away.”

“And where do you plan to run away to?”

“I… I’m not sure yet. I’m going to the tavern to find a job.”

The man looked Casmos over, a grin crossing his lips as he let go of her. “If its a job you need, then I think I can help you.”

Casmos paused. “You can?”

“Tell me girl, can you fight?”

“I’ve been learning to.”

The man picked Casmos up and started to make his way to the tavern with her. “Then welcome to my crew.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

10 Years later…

“This isnt what I agreed to!” Casmos yelled as she slammed her mace into the ground. “I said I’d fight alongside you, not transport slaves!”

The mercenary leader pushed Casmos to the ground and picked up her mace. “This is exactly what you signed up for when you joined us, girl. We get paid to do a job, no questions asked. We kill, we steal, we transport slaves, protect whoever pays us… money is money in this line of work and letting go a cart full of slaves is not how we get paid!”

“Then maybe I dont want to do this anymore!” Casmos picked herself up and pulled her shield off her back. “I swore an oath to protect those who cant protect themselves, not sell them off to someone who’s only going to abuse them!”

“Ever since you started to train to be a paladin, its been nothing but problems with you.” The mercenary leader grabbed the small amulet around Casmos’ neck and broke the chain as he pulled it away. “You want to leave? Then go! No one needs you here anymore!”

Casmos winced as she rubbed her neck from where the chain was pulled. “Give me back my amulet.”

The mercenary leader grinned and stashed the amulet away and unsheathed his sword. “You want it? Take it.”

Casmos glared as she felt radiant energy pool around into her as the floodgates opened and let her emotions flood through her. Her heart pounded as she remembered the day she took her oath, a job gone wrong and her squad pinned down as she was dying. The same voice from then started to flood through her mind as the world around her went silent.

“If you wish to live, then protect those as you want to protect yourself. This is the oath that you must take and never break. Is this what you desire?"

“I swore an oath to protect,” Casmos whispered to herself as the radiant energy around her started to pool into her hand. Her eyes glowed brightly as she stared down her leader and slammed her fist into his chest. A bright flash of radiant light slammed into him where he was struck, burning him as he fell back to the ground. He let go of Casmos’ mace and pulled the amulet out of his pocket as he glared at her.

“Leave, and never come back,” he said.

Casmos picked up her amulet and mace, sighing when she saw the cracks in both. She sheathed her mace and put up her shield, walking off to the nearest town as she clutched her amulet, a small ankh, to her chest, a soft whisper escaping her lips. “I wont let anyone else get hurt.”

#drabbles #dnd #casmos #no one asked for it but here's a small snippet of my paladin's backstory #casmos the aasimar

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razieltwelve · 2 years

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Beyond the Western Sea (Final Effect x ASOIAF)

“Ice zombies?” Her Imperial Majesty Averia VII blinked. “They have ice zombies?”

Luxa grinned. "I know, I know. It sounds stupid, but it’s the truth. They have real ice zombies.”

“And we haven’t bombarded the ice zombies into oblivion because...?” The empress was not fond of zombies. Pretty much nobody was. Zombies that weren’t under their direct control? Yikes. The standard approach was to introduce them to the glories of Imperial plasma and be done with it.

“We’d like an opportunity to study the planet in more detail,” Luxa said. “There is a whole lot of weird crap going on that we’d like to understand. First of all, there are humans on the planet, but genetic scans have picked up a host of oddities in their genetic matrices. We’ve also found evidence of lots of other life forms including giants, creepy tree people, and dragons.”

“They have dragons?”

“Well... not anymore. But they did. There are also probably some still in the wild, but we haven’t actually sent down anyone to grab them yet. The civilisations of the world are all basically at a medieval level. Nobody has even invented a gun yet. In fact, it’s kind of bizarre.”

“Oh?”

“The peoples of this world have a history that dates back thousands of years. Heck, some of the regions of the world have been ruled by basically the same bunch for longer than the Empire has existed.”

“And they still haven’t invented guns?”

“Nope. Part of that has to do with their seasons, which make no logical sense. We’re talking about winters that go for years,” Luxa replied. “So there’s clearly some weird stuff going on. We’d like to observe the planet, maybe send some agents down and establish an outpost or two just to find out what’s going on. Our initial suspicions was a Living World, but they don’t have one. What they call magic is definitely real, but it’s not Aura usage in the way we’re familiar with.”

“Can Aura be used to interact with it?” Averia asked.

“Sure. Based on some tests we’ve already run, Aura can shield against it just fine. Combat-wise, though, their magic isn’t nearly as useful as Aura. Most of it requires rituals and the like, and it’s been dwindling for years, apparently.”

“Hmm...” Averia nodded. “All right. Build a few outposts. Make contact with the locals but conceal our true level of advancement. I’m assuming there are unexplored parts of their world.”

“Yep. We’ll be building some outposts around there and saying we’re from there. It won’t even be a lie.”

“I’ll leave it in your hands then.” Averia’s frowned. “But if the whole ice zombie thing gets out of hand, take more direct action. I want at least one cloaked destroyed on hand to glass any infected parts of the planet if necessary.”

X X X

Rickard Stark was an ambitious man. He had seen the wealth and plenty of the South. He wanted to bring some of that to his people. He wanted full tables even in the dead of winter, and he wanted houses full of smiling children and joyful men and women. Too many times he had seen his people suffer. He would not stand by and do nothing to ease their plight.

If raising up the North would also improve the prospects of his children and descendants, then so much the better.

So when word had been brought to him of merchants claiming to be from beyond the Sunset Sea, he had been equal parts curious and sceptical. Many charlatans had claimed to hail from those mythical lands. All had been frauds who had eventually paid for their lies. Yet these people had asked to speak to him directly, approaching his vassals in the proper manner and bringing with them gifts to prove their sincerity.

One such gift rested on his desk. It was a ‘pen’. His lips curled. A curious name for such a useful object. It was like a quill, only made of metal and filled with ink, so that he only rarely needed to fill it. Given the many duties he had, it had proven to be an incredibly useful device... and one whose like he had never seen or heard of before.

Thus he had given permission for emissaries of these people to be brought before him. A knock on the door of his solar was followed by word from a servant than the emissaries had arrived and were waiting for him in the main courtyard. They had been offered bread and salt as was custom and had already sworn their oaths to cause no harm to those under his protection during their stay.

With strong, sure steps, Rickard made his way to the courtyard. He took careful note of the wagons that had been brought in. They were covered, but he was already interested in them. They were of a different make to those he was used to, but there was a sturdiness about them that drew the eye. He’d have to ask about them. Better wagons would make life in the north far easier.

The leader of the delegation drew his eye immediately.

Rickard had seen many big men before. There were houses in the north that even claimed some giant’s blood. But the man before him now was different from those he had seen.

He had ice of blue ice that seemed almost to shine, and his blonde hair was somewhere between ash and gold. He stood seven feet tall with broad shoulders and a body that rippled with muscle. A massive sword hung upon his back, and the ease with which he stood spoke of a man utterly confident in his fighting ability.

“Greetings, Lord Stark,” the man said, inclining his head. “I am Orion of the House of Villiers. I hail from beyond the Sunset Sea.”

“So I have been told,” Rickard replied. “I am Lord Rickard of House Stark. I rule the North in the name of King Aerys II. Be welcome within these walls.” He glanced once again at the wagons. “It seems we have much to discuss.”

X X X

The tale, such as it was, made sense to Rickard. There was, apparently, an empire on the other side of the Sunset Sea. They had tried for centuries to cross the sea, only to fail time and again. Finally, though, they had found a safe route through the seemingly endless waves and reached Westeros.

However, they had not simply blundered around. After learning of the people who lived there, they had spent years bidding their time, learning the language and studying the Seven Kingdoms and even Essos. It was a cunning strategy, one that Rickard could admire. Only a fool would have rushed to reveal themselves without learning more.

“So why the North?” Rickard asked at a last. He and Orion were in his solar whilst his companions talked with others that Rickard could trust.

“We are much like your people,” Orion said at last. “We prize our families and our honour. We treasure our history and our ways. We are a hard people in many ways, Lord Stark, for ours was a hard history, full of battle and struggle. But we are not butchers or cruel men. Our agents have spent time in the south. It is... a viper’s nest.”

Rickard laughed. “Aye. It’s good to see even someone from across the Sunset Sea thinks the same.”

“We would prefer to make our alliances with people who will not simply stab us in the back at the first opportunity.” Orion smiled. “Keeping our presence secret would be difficult in the South, and there are rumours... ill rumours... about what goes on there.”

Rickard could guess what he spoke of. The king was... not well. Even a foreigner would only need to lay eyes upon the king once to know that. “Aye. There are.”

“But the north is different.” Orion paused. “I have been told many times that North knows only one king... and his name is Stark. Here, in the north, we may come and go without notice, provided you decree secrecy.”

“That is true,” Rickard replied. “But why should I do such a thing?”

“We have much to offer you... and much to gain from you as well.” Orion nodded at the pen. “We have knowledge that can aid you in farming and in war. We know how to find new mines and draw the wealth up from them. We know how to build better ships and use them to ply the bounties of the deep.”

“And what would you ask for these things?” Rickard asked.

“A share of the wealth they provide... and a base of operations in the north, a place from which we can continue to explore the lands here and to the east.”

“Hmm...” Rickard lingered on his reply. There was a sudden weight to the moment, as though the destiny of his House would turn on this decision. He peered into Orion’s eyes to better get his measure. The other man met his gaze unflinchingly. Finally, he nodded. “I believe that something can be arranged.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Ah, Averia VII’s reign is full of all sorts of weirdness. Rickard is a canny operator, and this time he might actually survive. As for why they’d send a Villiers as leader, it makes sense when you consider the culture in Westeros. A seven-foot-tall man who looks like he stepped out of a comic book is exactly the sort of man who’d do well in Westeros, especially the North.

For all their cunning, the Dia-Farron would not be looked upon as favourably there. True, they would be respected as advisors, but having one in charge would make establishing relations difficult. A Villiers will have the sort of temperament and conduct that will work well in both the North and in the South.

#final effect #asoiaf #fanfiction #averia vii #luxa #rickard stark

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findingthespark · 1 year

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Pride’s Folly (Part 5)

Cassandra’s soldiers were barely holding their own, even with Solas there to bolster them. If they let their guard down for even a moment, demons cut through their ranks as if they were no more than paper. And even when they managed to fell all of the demons that appeared through a rift, they had only a brief respite before more came pouring through. On a few lucky occasions, the rift would wink out on its own, but it wouldn’t be long before a new rift formed somewhere else along the line. A dwarf from Kirkwall named Varric kept cracking wise, in what he could only assume was an attempt at keeping up morale, but mostly it made him grind his teeth.

They were fighting a losing battle.

He kept a stoic face in front of those around him, knowing that they expected nothing but expertise from him, Fade scholar that he was. But he was already hurting. His year awake had not allowed him to recover nearly as much as he would have liked, and he was easily winded. He drew on the energy of the Fade itself as much as he could, as readily available as it was, but it still required his focus and some portion of his stamina, neither of which was endless.

Not only was he running low on mana, though, he was starting to incur more injuries. The longer he kept fighting, the clumsier he got and his blocks and barriers suffered as a result. None had been terribly serious so far, but it was only a matter of time.

In the meantime, he watched bodies fall one by one, most having to remain where they went down, because there was never the time or strength for Inquisition forces to bring them away to a quieter resting place. He picked at the growing dirt under his nails during what downtime they had, trying desperately to ignore the guilty voice gnawing at the back of his mind.

Shouldn’t I feel some sense of justice? he asked himself. Look at what they have inflicted upon the Elvhenan since they came into contact with us. Are a few of their lives not a price to be paid for the suffering their brethren have caused?

His musing was cut short by the appearance of another rift. If nothing changed soon, he would have to...

Over the crest of the hill that they were fighting on, Cassandra arrived with a new soldier. Not soldier, he corrected himself. He wasn’t sure what she was for a moment, only able to steal glances as he fended off a clawed terror. The two women charged into the fray, Cassandra bashing a wraith into submission and the other colliding into a shade shield-first before hacking at it with her blade.

They quickly dispatched the first wave, giving Solas time to look at the newcomer long enough to see her white hair and a familiar green mark on her hand. He could feel the way the rift drew towards the mark, the hungry, shifting ache from the Fade at the close proximity of it. Some deep instinct took him over.

He snatched her hand, crying out, “Quickly! Before more come!” and thrust her hand out in the direction of the rift.

Like lightning finding its grounding arc, a beam of green Fade energy sprouted between her hand and the rift, and for a moment, the air was supercharged. Then, without warning, the rift fluctuated and trembled and melted out of the air, the Fade no longer open before them.

Everyone cheered raggedly but enthusiastically.

“Take what rest you can!” Cassandra announced to them. “I know you have all been worn down here.”

“What did you do?” the woman who he had discovered was named Fiacha in her dreams asked him softly.

“I did nothing,” he answered. “The credit is all yours.”

She shot him a skeptical look. He could see no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him. She might have forgotten their encounter while she was unconscious.

“I closed that thing? How?”

It was a good question. And he had no good answer for her. He had no clue what had happened when he stretched her hand toward the Fade.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand,” he nodded to it. “I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake - and it seems I was correct.” He rocked on his heels with a grin. He had speculated that, after all, he just didn’t know the exact details.

Fiacha still didn’t look particularly convinced, but she didn’t argue with him.

“Does this mean that her mark could close the Breach?” Cassandra broke in.

“Possibly,” he shrugged. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation,” he turned back to Fiacha.

Her brow scrunched and she bit her lip. Something deep inside him felt a fascination with the way her face reacted to her nerves. It was...attractive? No, that couldn’t be it, he waved the notion away.

“So you’re saying we actually have a chance to not be ass-deep in demons forever?” Varric winked. He then gave a little wave and introduced himself with, “Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Fiacha responded.

He let out a throaty chuckle.

“You may reconsider that stance, in time.”

Varric made a pouting face.

“Aww. I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

Cassandra and Varric began to argue, giving him a moment to better approach Fiacha. The look on her face told him she was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the situation she found herself in. And he wanted to see if his name recalled anything for her.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

Nothing flickered in her eyes. She had well and truly forgotten. Well, she had been through quite a traumatic event.

Varric chimed in again with, “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.’“

Solas frowned at him. Why did he have to make him sound so crude? But Fiacha just looked at him with surprise. Had she remembered?

“I owe you my thanks,” she said sincerely.

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.”

“If you kept this from killing me,” she gestured to her mark, “then you stand as good a chance as anyone of getting me through this.”

Gods, those eyes were so easy to fall into. He had to make sure that he wasn’t staring into them for too long.

“I’ll do everything in my power.” Even if he didn’t have much left available to him.

--------

Fiacha followed Cassandra with the others to the forward camp, where they encountered Sister Leliana again. She was arguing with a stunted cleric of a man. Though her attention was preoccupied, the elf approached hesitantly, remembering all too clearly the way she and Cassandra had circled her, interrogating her. She had not been harmed, but she could sense the danger lurking in the woman.

The man, a Chancellor Roderick, vehemently argued against any sort of action, clearly infuriating Leliana, and even Cassandra’s face grew stonier seeing him. They argued for several minutes about political-sounding nonsense, before Cassandra finally put an end to it and insisted that would press on to the largest rift formed by the Breach.

“We can charge through the valley or make an attempt through the mountain pass,” she told Fiacha. “Which do you prefer?”

“You’re asking me? Am I not still a prisoner?”

“No. There is still a mystery about you, no denying that, but you have proven yourself so far and you are the one with the mark on her hand who must face the most danger. You choose.”

Fiacha pondered for a moment.

“The pass sounds quickest, and it should cause the least amount of bloodshed for your troops.”

“Then let us go. Leliana, gather all the soldiers that you can and meet us at the Temple.”

To keep their movements hidden, only Fiacha, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric would take the pass. They trudged their way through deep snows and winds until they made it to the structures of an old mine. The groaning of the old wood beneath their feet sent nervous lurches through Fiacha’s stomach, but it managed to hold.

As they traveled, Fiacha felt her eye drawn toward the mage, Solas. Something about him felt familiar, but it eluded her every time she looked at him. What was it? After the eleventh or twelfth time she found her eyes wandering his way, she scolded herself.

I have to let this go. There are more important things at stake.

As if he heard that thought, Solas turned back to her.

“I have been wondering. You are Dalish, but clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?”

“They had an interest in the Conclave,” she confirmed.

“An unusual attitude for your people.”

“They are your people too, Solas.”

“The Dalish I met felt...differently on the subject.”

“I will acknowledge that too many of us are unwelcoming to outsiders, even when we should know better. But you must admit that we deserve to be distrustful,” she pointed out.

“Even when someone is just trying to help?”

“Not having been there, I can’t say for sure. Ir abelas, for the way the clans have treated you. I hope you get a chance to see better of them.”

He paused and waited for her to catch up.

“I think I already am,” he smiled kindly.

Warmth flushed up her chest and into her cheeks, and knowing that it had made her flush even harder.

“If we manage to survive all this,” he continued, “I should like to discuss elven nature with you at length. I have been...isolated for some time, and the interactions I have had thus far have only seemed to confirm my reasons for it.”

“That sounds like a lonely existence,” she commented.

“Not as lonely as you might think. I walked the Fade. There are many potential friends there.” His eyes sharpened. “Demons ahead!”

#solavellan #Solas x inquisitor #lavellan #solas #DAI #Dragon Age #Inquisition #Dragon Age Inquisition #slow burn #I promise I'll make the next one a little more fun #Pride's Folly #Part 5

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broadshoulderbroad · 2 years

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The Innkeeper’s Wife

Unraveling the mystery of you has been the greatest joy in my often cosmically insignificant life.

I’ve lived for so long in a loop. A repeat, a cycle. an NPC in some boring RPG, asking the same questions every day to new players every evening. the innkeeper who keeps the candle lit as braver bolder adventurers come and rest their heads between bouts of sleep. Even this collage of colorful bright eyed neophytes, all living their own main protagonist lives, begin to blur days into weeks into months. Brown leather, rusted swords, bronze coin.

Sometimes i’m the librarian who daydreams and greedily hoards her wealth of infinite intellectual treasures. My mind has brought me to the brightest nebulas glittering and studded with the outermost stars. I often breath in the light of literary virtual reality but have never left this cave of a building. I’ve been toiling for eternity writing my own novel. I have never felt truly awake, truly alive, and I am truly writer’s blocked. There hasn’t been a story worth writing about, no chapters to add, no drafts to produce. That is until you knocked over Politics, authors A through D, shelves 320-329. Next to you wordlessly sorting through Dave Bollier, I heard you sigh and felt your breath. Like life given, and for the first time, I felt real. For the first time, I felt florid like the dance of a perfectly composed sentence instead of a nameless citation in a medical textbook: a little number held to the ceiling of a sentence, referring to the basement of a page, indexed in the back closet of a book. I reshelve Aristotle, as you reach for Chomsky, it’s quiet and I hear your heart beat. I want to keep the sentence going.

In Taiwan, there’s a bookstore called Eslite. Its flagship retail location is in Taipei and is open twenty four hours. To even call it a bookstore is a misnomer although it insists on homage to humble beginnings. There’s good food in the cafeteria on the ground floor, and all the books you can read freshly organized as the escalator brings us skyward towards more and more media. There’s racks of guitar magazines written in english by way of Europe like an uncanny American accent from a British actor, stratocasters paid for in pounds, amps full of “colour”. There’s the largest record shop and dvd store you’ve ever seen in a bookshop. Eslite makes Borders feel like a gas station.

We wander each floor, unraveling memories to each other. The first game that made you cry, the impossible to find volume to an out of print manga you never finished. A miracle to find it here and now, long after the itch to complete the story has been disarmed by the ravages of unfruitful partners and a maxed our credit card. We look at ghibli dvd’s, feeling that yearning from Kiki or Chihiro. We marvel at high grade Evangelion figurines. Do we share that shivering heart with a knife pressed between my breast, against the absolute terror field that shields us? Will you get the best of me, will you pierce my core and shatter my armor? Will you make me collapse into oceans of blood?

You slide me a drink, a dash of grenadine in a diet coke to hide the aspartame. We are in a cozy bar in Downtown Peekskill, long after karaoke revelers have gone home. I can hear your heartbeat through your glance. I don’t want to admit that my eye glasses have no degrees. They are an empty frame, an illusion of a wall, to keep folks from looking too deeply into my eyes while protecting me from the dust and ashes of fires i’ve put out. I have been hardened by repeated exposure to nuclear fallout from love bombing campaigns and the bright atomic glow of too many pearly white smiles yellowed by whisky and cigarettes. but I cannot feign blindness to how you make me feel. I am widow to a million lovers lost. The glasses are to protect me and keep peering eyes out, but will you lean forward to take them off?

We kiss after last call. The bartender chuckles. Gleason’s is my favorite bar in the city of Peekskill, New York just north of Manhattan. There’s an ideal perfect world I have composited together in my mind, a metropolitan dreamscape where we can walk to Eslite Taipei, Taiwan from the San Marino Public Library, through a backyard identical to the Huntington Gardens in Pasadena, California before having drinks at Gleason’s in New York. Being with you feels like i’ve lost all sense of time and place. I just feel the warmth of little memories of little buildings of little cities thousands of miles away from one another and stitched together into one perfect day, one perfect night. You are as timeless and infinite as these memories of beautiful places held in amber. My impossible quantum city with a population of shadows inhabited only by me. And now, you.

You kept my feet warm that night. we painted each other nude with overlapping hands, unbuckling belts and shedding jackets as we traveled from the attic to the bedroom of my old loft apartment. All of the body heat felt cold compared to when you noticed a pulse of a shiver traveling down my legs. “Your feet are so cold, let me help”. My feet have been temperamental since birth and the chilled cubic air volume of delinquent heating bills doesn’t help. We find comfort under comforters. The tiny toes my mother held to keep me warm in infancy and childhood, you’ve now wrapped in your feet as you notice every inch of me burns except for my most vulnerable memory. I melt in your embrace. I connect the one who loved me first with you, the one who loved me last. Freud chuckles, as I weep into your shoulders, you have stripped me of all of my armor, broke my glasses, and pierced this distance just by wrapping your feet around mine.

I would never relegate you to be the inn keepers wife, trapped in this cycle with me. I will never want you to be the cute boy in the library, the wandering expat at the bookstore, the cherry coke lawyer at the bar, or the fair weather lover who just needed a distraction and warmed my frigid toes. I sapped her of her warmth and she disappeared forever, my cold feet must have been contagious.

You will never be in this loop with me because you are better than any single memory swirling in my cerebellum. You are still a mystery to me, reading this sentence outside my selfish suffering. It has been years and since then, I have thrown on some socks, paid for my drink, bought the missing manga. I have restocked the library books, politics A through D. My vision isn’t what it used to be, the convex fascia in my eyes necessitated real lenses for my glasses, leaving me farsighted. I fill out your invoice for a stay in my inn before polishing my glasses. I look at you, my guest, weary traveler on your own adventure. You count your bronze, and smile, as you check in and walk into my warm place of rest. I am the widow in the city in my head. I am both the innkeeper and the innkeeper’s wife.

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Palm Springs - Leigh Shaw

All Works Masterlist

Summary: In Palm Springs, Leigh meets you. The season one finale re-imagined.

Warnings: (+18), smut, cursing, dom!reader, bottom!leigh, explicit language, explicit consent, brief mentions of harassment, fluff, brief rivalry dynamics, hopeful ending.

Words: 5.378K

Notes: My love, @abimess, this is my apologies for you. I kept mistaken "Wanda" instead of "Leigh" at some points in the writing, but it all worked out in the end. I hope you all enjoy the read, this is my first time writing for this character.

//-//

You threw the signed divorce papers against the passenger seat, ignoring the thick tears that welled up in your eyes.

Raising your hand, you turned up the radio and kept driving. Your cell phone started ringing the next moment, but you ignored it. It was probably Bucky or Steve calling to find out where you were after your little outburst at the company fundraiser.

Honestly, it wasn't your fault. You were handling it all very well, but Carol decided it would be a good idea to give you the divorce papers while you were surrounded by your closest friends, and that was the trigger. But now you were driving to Palm Springs, finally taking the damn vacation your ex-wife had put you through so much hell to get, but now, the seat next to you was empty.

It took a few hours to get there, since the complex is in New York, but you didn't care, having spent most of the way trying to understand how you managed to lose a woman like Carol Danvers.

No bags, you ignored the curious look one of the hotel staff gave you as soon as you pulled into the parking lot, smiling slightly as you took off your sunglasses and asked for directions to the front desk.

You frowned slightly as you were almost run over.

"Watch where you're going!" You shouted angrily at the driver, and the woman returned you the same angry look. Great, you've barely arrived and you almost died. This weekend was promising.

Stepping back, you waited for the woman to drive, not failing to give her a wry smile as she passed you. After this, you walked to the reception desk, and the area was quite full, which was normal for a weekend.

"Reservation in the name Danvers." You said to the receptionist after the greetings. He smiled as he checked the information.

"Valentine's suite, I see." He commented cheerfully. "Shall I prepare a second key for your partner?"

"It's just going to be me, buddy." You grumble, ignoring the uneasy feeling in your stomach. The man smiles awkwardly, but doesn't apologize.

After checking in, you go up to the third floor.

The room makes you sigh with disgust, the flowers and chocolates give you a headache. It takes ten minutes to find a chambermaid and ask her to remove all the decorations.

While your room is being cleaned, you decide to buy something to wear, since you didn't bring anything to spend the weekend at the hotel.

"Good morning." You mumble the greeting as you enter the gift store, your gaze wandering around.

"How can I help you, dear?" The saleswoman asks politely, smiling at you.

"I need something to wear for the two days I'm staying. It was a last-minute trip." You tell her, and the saleswoman looks surprised, but doesn't comment.

The woman eventually showed you the summer shirt section, and you sighed softly as you looked through the options. She walked away to attend to another customer, and you left your attention to the clothes.

A moment later, you picked out a few pieces and turned to talk to the saleswoman, only to run into the woman who had almost run you over earlier looking at the book section.

"You again." You let it slip not so low, attracting the woman's attention. She frowns for a second, and then she recognizes you. But before she can say anything, the saleswoman is speaking.

"Oh, you two know each other already?" She asks excitedly. "It's amazing how we can find friends here in Palm Springs isn't it?"

"We're not friends." You both inform at the same moment, and you squeeze your eyes shut slightly. The woman straightens her posture, pressing the book lightly against her chest as you switch the shirts on your arm. The saleswoman's curious expression prompts you to speak.

"Actually, she almost killed me." You say. "It was going to be quite a headline for this hotel. I'd be careful about the people you guys host around here."

The saleswoman looks at you with confusion, while the other woman lets out a dry laugh.

"You're the one who walked across in the middle of the street!" she defends herself. "It's not my fault if you weren't taught how to cross the street in school."

"Oh, so it's the victim's fault now?" You retort and the woman looks at you incredulously. A third customer enters the store and stares curiously at the argument, but the saleswoman is quick to gesture between you, smiling wryly.

"Oh come on, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding" The saleswoman remarks and you sustain the annoyed look the other woman is casting at you. "There's no need for an argument."

"Of course not." The woman says forcing a smile, but her posture remains aggressive. "We are both civilized adults."

You bite your tongue to avoid another provocation, looking away from the green irises in front of you.

"Of course you are." The saleswoman says smiling, and then her gaze catches the shirts hanging from your forearm and she lets out a light exclamation. "Come on, I can finalize your purchase if that's all, dear."

You turn toward the cashier next, and it is only after you have paid for the clothes and are leaving that you see the other woman again on your way back, but she does not look away from the books to you. You couldn't care less.

//-//

In your room, you can't resist the urge to look at your phone.

Bucky has called five times. And Steve even sent you an email. You sigh weakly, feeling guilty as you catch a glimpse of Tony and Natasha's message notifications.

Your friends didn't care that you started crying in the middle of the meeting you were at because your ex-wife decided to bring a sensitive topic like the end of your five-year marriage to the table, but you were hating yourself for it.

At this point, you didn't even know what you had been crying about anymore. You and Carol had always had a difficult relationship, and since you got married, you began to wonder why you had done it in the first place.

You loved her so much when you first met her, and then everything gradually broke down. The lack of compatibility, the jealousy and possessiveness, and the lack of time. Carol was a soldier in the army, and you were a Shield special agent, and your jobs took up a lot of your schedules. But you knew that this was just another empty excuse. After all, your best friend, Natasha, was also an agent, as was her wife, and they made everything work properly.

Maybe things were meant to happen that way. That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

After taking a shower, you grumble lightly as you realize that you forgot to buy a bathing suit. And well, everything special about Palm Springs was the magnificent pools.

You figured the shorts and top you had would have to fit.

The pools were considerably more crowded than the rest of the hotel, and this was probably due to the current temperature.

You decided to buy a drink before sunbathing, realizing that most of the chairs were occupied.

The bartender was a pretty girl and smiled mischievously at you when her gaze fell on your collarbone exposed by the cut of your shirt, but you just gave her a half-hearted smile. Being newly divorced wasn't exactly the best scenario for flirting.

"What can I get you?" The woman asked as she rested her hands on the counter in front of her. You bit your lip thoughtfully, running your eyes down one of the menus left on the wood.

"Honestly, I don't know anything here." You say. "But I would like something sweet."

It takes a few minutes for her to prepare a drink for you, and you thank her as you accept.

As you sip a drink that tastes like strawberries and condensed milk, you look around the surroundings.

You frown slightly as you recognize the woman from the store, watching her sit in one of the chairs that has just been emptied in front of the bar. She doesn't notice you, but you notice her exposed legs, mentally scolding yourself for doing so.

As you take another sip of your drink, your tongue getting used to the sugary sweetness, a man approaches the stranger in front of you. From this proximity, you can hear the conversation, or rather the small harassment that he was doing.

Rolling your eyes at the stranger's clearly offensive attempt to approach the other woman, you force yourself to get up and walk over to them.

Well, Nat always said that you were a person with a natural talent for theater and you wish she were here now to see the little scene you caused.

Pretending to trip over the sunshade support, you made a sudden movement and knocked your entire drink against the man's collarbone, who let out an exclamation of anger and surprise as he stood up.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" You asked in a falsely guilty tone, forcing an expression of shock. Before he could say anything, you were already grabbing one of the towels left on the little tables beside the chairs and throwing it harder than necessary against the man's face. "Here, honey, clean yourself up."

The man blinked in surprise, and glared angrily at you for a second before muttering "whatever" and turning to leave. When he was already a safe distance away, you turned your face to look at the seated woman.

"Sorry about your book." You speak as you notice that the spilled drink has dripped a little on the pages. "But if you ask me, the ending sucks."

"Thanks, I guess." The woman mumbles not keeping her gaze on you. "I didn't need you to help me, by the way." She adds and you roll your eyes, realizing that the chair next to her got empty after your little commotion. When you sit down, she raises her gaze to you in disbelief.

"Who said I was helping you?" You retort. "I love throwing expensive drinks at strangers."

Your joke elicits a nasal chuckle from the woman, who softens her posture.

"If you want to lose money, I suggest donating rather than wasting it." She teases back and you bite back a smile, shaking your head slightly. When she opens the book again and leans her back against the chair, clearly deciding to ignore your presence, you copy the position, but stand with your arms folded across your chest and close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun against your skin.

You are tired from the trip, and eventually fall asleep. When you open your eyes again, the woman is no longer there.

//-//

Since you have napped until the afternoon, there is no chance you will sleep early. You try to distract yourself with television, but most of the programs are pay-per-view and you have probably already exceeded all the limits that a Shield salary can afford, so you decide to spend some time on the activities included in your weekend bundle.

After putting on a shirt to join the lobby, you take the elevator down and step out into the outdoor area, not surprised to find the place as busy as before. The difference is perhaps the lack of children because of the time of day.

You walk toward the bar and roll your eyes slightly when you notice the same man as before being loud and boisterous along with a small group partying near the place. But you ignore them as you sit down on the first stool you find.

"Well, if it isn't my knight in white armor." A female voice comments wryly beside you, surprising you mildly. You look at the woman with a raised eyebrow, but she is looking straight ahead.

"So you expect me to call you a princess? We don't even know each other." You retort in the same tone, and watch the woman bite back a smile, rolling her eyes slightly.

You stand in silence while you order a drink, this time smiling in the same way that the bartender smiles at you. While you wait, you can' t help but look over to the side.

"You know, I think I might need to get your name." You begin in a tone of false seriousness, not knowing why you want to pull conversation with the stranger, but doing it anyway. "Since I need to know who to sue for attempted hit-and-run."

The woman laughs lightly, and as she sets her drinking glass back down on the counter, she turns her body toward you, without getting up.

"The smart thing then wouldn't be to say my name, don't you think?" She retorts with amusement in her voice. "That way I avoid a lawsuit."

You smile in a corner, shaking your head slightly. You lean your arm on the counter, and it takes a moment for her to speak again.

"I'm Leigh."

"No last name so I can't find your ID, right?" You tease and she smiles, licking her lips for a moment. "Well, I won't tell you mine either then." You comment before telling her only your first name, and she laughs lightly. "May I at least know your profession? Or, I don't know, where you're from? I need that information to track you down."

You joke, and Leigh makes a thoughtful expression for a moment.

"I'm from everywhere actually." She says mysteriously. "Because I'm an international jewel thief."

You smile at the mixed tone of seriousness and playfulness in her speech, respecting her right not to want to tell you the truth, and acknowledging the identity she chooses to assume.

"Oh, really?" You ask joining in the joke. "And let me guess, your disguise happens to be as a fashion stylist, right? And you have a red motorcycle and deadly poison hidden in your lipstick?"

Leigh holds back her laughter, nodding.

"I can't confirm any of that information, actually." She says. "After all, a little incident happened and I wasn't able to finish the story."

You laugh at the teasing, taking a sip of your drink. Before the moment of silence lasts any longer, you ask if you can approach. When Leigh consents, you take the seat next to her.

"And what do you do?" she asks as soon as you sit down. You clear your throat lightly.

"I'm a secret agent, actually." You tell her and from the woman's expression, she still believes you are joking. You do not correct yourself however. "Lasers and villains, the whole story."

Leigh smiles, murmuring in understanding.

"And what is a secret agent doing in Palm Springs?" She asks next and you assume a dramatically thoughtful expression.

"I got a hint actually." You reply. "A jewel thief, fugitive from the government. I'm trying to gather information to effect her arrest."

Leigh fakes an expression of horror making you laugh.

"If I see anything suspicious, I'll give you a heads up." She jokes and you smile, enjoying the whole thing. Before you can add anything else, the small group next to the bar let out loud laughter and they attract your and Leigh's attention.

You frown slightly when you witness the guy from earlier whistling at one of the hotel staff, the people with him finding his little scene of harassment funny.

"I guess a drink in the face isn't enough for some idiots." You comment and Leigh sighs mildly. She looks at you at the same moment you look at her.

"Maybe more drinks will be enough."

That's how you end up doing a little mischief that involves distracting the stranger with comments about his muscles while Leigh approaches and manages to get the man's card. When you walk away, after she hands the bartender the hotel ID after ordering a round for everyone at the bar on the stranger's behalf, you were laughing.

"I'm beginning to believe your thief story." You amused comment as soon as you and Leigh reach the trail out of the bar area. She just smiles at your words. You clear your throat next. "I guess I need to show off my secret agent skills then."

Leigh looks at you curiously, but you just smile as you nod in the direction of the gardens.

You walk for a few minutes in silence, and you remember everything you have observed since you arrived at the hotel, and are able to find the small opening in the fence that you saw some staff members pass through in the afternoon.

"Please, milady." You joke as you make room for Leigh to cross the path first, and she rolls her eyes with amusement before doing so.

You end up in some kind of unfinished private garden, but one that is still very pretty.

Perhaps it is an area under construction for some kind of party, as it has a stage set up in the center and some folded chairs scattered about.

Your attention falls immediately to the piano that has also been set up high on the dark stage.

"How did you find this place?" Leigh asks as she looks around, and you walk past her to get on the stage, eliciting a giggle.

"Field study, of course." You reply with false seriousness. " A secret agent never goes anywhere without studying the whole place first."

Leigh murmurs in agreement, deciding to follow you to the stage. You take a seat on the piano bench while she remains standing in front of the organ.

"Do you have any requests?" You ask looking down at your fingers as she studies your face.

"Old Mac Donald had a Farm." She replies and you choke on a laugh.

"And I thought your taste in music was as good as your fashion sense." You tease causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Is that your way of complimenting what I'm wearing?" She retorts but you just bite back a smile, moving your fingers across the keys.

You decide to play a melody that she may not recognize, but is exactly what you feel you should play.

When the first notes of " Spring - Ludovico Einaudi" echo in the room, Leigh looks at you in surprise, but you just smile.

It takes a moment for her to surround the piano, and to sit down next to you. You continue to play, enjoying the sound and concentrating not to misplay the notes.

When you make a particularly fast movement on the piano, Leigh looks at you impressed, but you just push your shoulder lightly against hers, smiling. Neither of you regains the distance from before, and you continue to play.

When you finish, you are silent for a moment.

"Where did you learn to do that?" She asks in her low, impressed tone as you both look down at your hands on the keys. You sigh slightly, moving your fingers away and placing your hands in your lap.

"I used to play when I was a kid." You reply. "Before I was a secret agent, of course."

Leigh smiles, biting her lips lightly. You look away from the movement, to her hands quickly.

"Let me show you." You whisper as you reach out your hand to hers. When she accepts, you position her fingers on the keys, and then fit your hand on top of hers. "You start like this."

The sound is far from perfect, and Leigh laughs every time she misses a note, so you don't really care.

You stay like this for a few minutes, until you can get her to complete five notes without making a mistake.

"See? You' re almost a pianist already." You comment with a smile, looking at her face. She mimics your movement, and you feel your heart skip a beat from the closeness.

You feel the tension build in the room, but before you can think of doing anything, a male voice is breaking the spell.

"Sorry, but this area is for employees only." Informs the young man from the hotel, seeming slightly embarrassed to interrupt. You and Leigh quickly walk away, standing up and muttering an apology in unison to the guy, who waits until you leave by the trail he guides.

When you reach the entrance to the social area again, the employee closes the gate, waving slightly. You and Leigh exchange amused smiles.

"So... what do you want to do now?" You ask the next moment, wanting to prolong the evening.

"I want to swim." She declares and you frown slightly, then shrug. You nod in the direction of the pools and you exchange a glance before starting to walk.

//-//

At the edge of the pool, you sigh slightly.

You exchange a look with Leigh, standing next to you, and then you laugh softly as you both begin to undress.

You can't resist the urge to look at her, especially since she jumps in first and you catch a glimpse of her body covered only by a bikini. Ignoring your uncompensated heartbeat, you jump into the water next.

It's a good thing the water was cold, because you are feeling your face and body heat up at the way Leigh looks at you.

Trying to lighten the mood, you swim around her, casually meeting her gaze again as she mimics the movement.

You laugh lightly when you realize that you are swimming in circles around each other, and decide to stop. Leigh swims in front of you a moment later.

"Hello, superspy." She greets you almost in a whisper waving her arms to continue on the surface in front of you.

"Hello, international thief." You speak back in the same tone, your gazes locked on each other.

You wonder if she would like you to break the distance, as her gaze has lowered to your lips for a few seconds. But before you can surrender to this urge, she takes a step back.

"I'm cold."

And then she swims away, and you wonder if you have taken the whole thing the wrong way.

Following her a little way back, you look for towels.

//-//

"Which floor are you on?" You ask as you reach the elevators, each with a towel around your body. You watch Leigh tighten her arms against herself slightly.

"Second." She replies half-heartedly, and you nod.

"Let's go together then."

She gets into the elevator first, and after she presses the button, you stand next to her, your back against the wall.

The tension is back the moment the doors close, but after the pool, you find it best not to take any action, not wishing to make Leigh uncomfortable.

You reach her floor a moment later, and when she doesn't leave, you hold your breath.

You risk a corner-of-your-eye glance at her, but she continues to stare straight ahead, sighing slightly.

Trying not to look like a complete mess, you wait for your floor to arrive.

//-//

The way down the hallway is silent, and despite your nervousness, you don't fumble to open your room.

Leigh enters first, and strides into the room as you close the door.

She stops in the center, her gaze scanning around for a moment before returning to you. You hold your breath, and then she lets the set of clothes in her hands fall to the floor.

You bite back a smile, mimicking the movement. Taking a deep breath, you do the same with your towel, and ignore the heat in your cheeks as Leigh's gaze descends to your body covered only by your underwear.

She removes the towel at your waist next, and you stare at her exposed legs for a moment before moving slowly toward her.

You smile shyly as you stop in front of her, and it takes a second for you to slowly lift your fingers to touch her, tracing the outline of her arm and watching her skin shiver.

"Everything okay?" You ask softly raising your gaze from where your fingers were touching to her eyes. Leigh sighs, shaking her head in agreement. You give her a short smile, placing your hand on her cheek, and watching her lean into the touch slightly. "Use your words." You ask in a whisper, your other hand repeating the motion of your fingers from before, even more slowly.

"Y-yes." She confirms half breathlessly. "And you?"

"Yes." You say, your hand reaching for the strap of her bikini. "I'm going to kiss you now, Leigh."

She nods in understanding, sighing heavily. You didn't correctly calculate how attracted you were to her, because the moment your lips touched, you felt your head spin and it was hard not to push her against the bed immediately.

You both sigh against the kiss, and you slide your tongue into her mouth next, your hand on her face running down to her neck, deepening the kiss even more.

Leigh seems hesitant to touch you for the first second, but then she gasps against your tongue, and brings her hands to your shoulders, bringing one of them up to the back of your neck and scratching the skin, making you sigh.

With the hand that was on the bikini strap, you use your fingers to pull the strap down, and with the other hand you repeat the movement on the other side. When the bikini falls to the floor, your hands go down to her waist, and you pull her toward you.

Leigh gasps at the contact of your breasts bumping together, breaking the kiss with a wet sigh, and you take the opportunity to move your mouth down her collarbone, enjoying the sounds you manage to get out of her whenever you bite her sensitive skin softly.

You lean against her to lower your kisses to her breasts, and when your mouth finds the hardened nipple, she arches her back, closing her eyes as her fingers force your head forward against her breast.

"Oh." She moans as she feels you suck on her nipple, your other hand moving up to give her other breast due attention, your fingers playing with the tip. " Oh, fuck, that feels good."

You smile against her skin, feeling your core tighten with the sounds you are tearing out of her.

When your hand on her waist moves down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and pressing Leigh's hips against yours as your mouth continues on her breast, she moans loudly as she throws her head back, shuddering against you.

It's enough to make you lose control. You need to know how she tastes.

Gasping, you move your kisses down again, and Leigh holds her breath as you get down on your knees.

You kiss her thighs first, while your hands pull down the fabric of her panties.

When the fabric falls away completely, you swallow dry, your gaze glazed on the exposed intimacy of the woman in front of you, your mouth salivating to taste her.

"I-I'm gonna fall." She comments shyly, and you notice how her knees are already shaky. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stand up.

You take Leigh by the hand to your bed, and she stands there, making you smile. You move forward against her mouth again, and she sighs, almost losing her balance from the intensity.

"Lie down." You ask between one kiss and another, making her moan softly. "Spread your legs for me."

Leigh gasps against your lips as you slip your fingers through her folds for a moment, before pulling away until she obeys. You bite your lips as you watch her lie down.

Before you join her, you remove the rest of your clothes. Leigh's cheeks redden, but you give her no time to register this, climbing onto the bed with your knee between her legs and kissing her again.

As she begins to squirm beneath you for more friction, you move your kisses down her body.

She closes her eyes when your mouth is at the level of her belly, breathing hard.

When your tongue touches her pussy, you both moan loudly. You are amazed at how wet and hot she feels, the taste filling all your senses. And Leigh bites her lips to stop herself from moaning out in pleasure when your tongue begins to move against her clit, sucking and licking her devotedly and making her whimper.

"F-fuck." She moans breathlessly, her hips thrusting into your mouth. "Yeah...right there... don't stop..."

You lift your hands to her thighs, holding her open. Your own intimacy pulsing from the way Leigh is surrendered to you and the sounds she gives you.

Keeping the strokes of your tongue as deep as you can and being sure to press your clitoris in return, you feel her pussy tighten and Leigh's body begins to quiver in spasms.

"I-I'm... close... fuck..." she begins to whimper disconnected words, long moans escaping her throat. It takes only two more strokes for her to come on your tongue, her moan loud enough to be heard in the next room, but neither of you care.

You drink all of her cum, enjoying the taste and feeling on edge, without even having been touched yet.

Moving up your kisses again, you deposit slow kisses against Leigh's skin, waiting for her to recover from her own orgasm.

When you reach her mouth, she kisses you back with the same intensity.

You just know you're not going to sleep early tonight.

//-//

When you wake up, your bed is empty. You are surprised by this, really.

The night was very good. Much better than any one-night stand you have ever had.

After getting dressed by finding your articles of clothing, you walk to the front desk.

It takes a few minutes to find Leigh, and you frown when you realize from the bag in her hands, the documents, and the car key that she is leaving.

"Wow, you weren't even going to leave a note." You tease as you catch up with her. She is startled by your sudden presence, but forces a smile.

"Look, I'm sorry..." she starts but you shake your head.

"No need." You interrupt by putting your hands in your pockets and shrugging. "It was just one night after all."

"Yes." She reaffirms what you say, staring at you. You hold her gaze, and a long minute later she sighs. "No, it wasn't."

You swallow dryly, watching her. She seems conflicted about something, her expression going from worried to guilty in a few seconds, and then she takes a deep breath and shakes her head before looking at you again.

"I can't." She says, and you sigh lightly. "I just... can't."

"It's okay." You decide to say, ignoring the way your stomach is flipping with nervousness or your heart is racing. "We are civilized adults, aren't we?"

Leigh smiles, and you watch her eyes water for a moment before she quickly hides her emotion. You feel the same way.

" This is a goodbye." Leigh says next, and you look away to the floor, nodding in understanding.

"Goodbye, Leigh. It was nice meeting you." You say as you look at her again, forcing a smile even though your eyes are watering.

She smiles, approaching to kiss your cheek close enough to your lips to make you shiver. She doesn't pull away immediately, raising her mouth to the height of your ear, she whispers "I left a note." and before you can understand what has been said to you, she is gone.

It is only at the end of the day, many hours after she has left, and you are already inside your car that you rummage in your pants pocket looking for the car key that you find the note.

It is a piece torn from the page of the book "Unmoored in milan", the paper stained with drink. In the corner, in cursive letters it is written. "to my favorite secret agent. Leigh Shaw, Los Angeles."

You smiled at the words, and as you were driving back to New York, you wondered how long it would take Natasha to find out Leigh's phone number.

//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia

@mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @HELLOALYCIA // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm

// @sxfwap // @table57

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aprill-99 · 2 years

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So…. Take a journey with me for a few minutes. Okay? It’s a long post, but forge on:

Aleksander:

Aleksander isn’t technically a demigod. His father isn’t even a god, isn’t even a titan. Aleksander’s father is Tartarus. The spirit of the pit. It makes sense when you think about it. The deepest darkest and most never ending hole placed in the cellar in the floor of the world. The place where all the shadows come from. It wants and wants and wants and never dies.

Aleksander inherits many things from his father. He inherits his hair the color of a crow feather, his voice like fathomless depths, his temper which grows and grows, his hate that does the same, and his eyes like black hole remnants where stars used to be. But most of all, Aleksander inherits his hunger, and his patience.

Alina:

Alina isn’t really a demigod either. She is the child of something far older than gods, nearly as old as Aleksander. The child of the thing that came after the darkness, but will be there long after. Her father is Prometheus - the titan who brought light to the world. Prometheus, the titan who looked at all humanity, and felt pity, felt that these new people needed help. The Titan who wanted peace, and found that the only way to bring it to the world was to show people - show them their own humanity and pray that they would reach for it. Who gave the world it’s light and paid the price of being wrenched apart and scattered.

No one knows if Alina looks like her father because no one has seen him. What Alina has from her father is his generosity, his pity, his fearsome desire for peace - peace always, and his aching greedy and fractured compassion. She has his arrogance in thinking she can save them, save them all…

Mal:

Mal is not a demigod. No godly power runs in his veins. But he sees- by them all does he see. His sight is clear. He knows Alina’s power and her grace, knew she had it before she did. Mal knows where he’s going, forever and always. Even in the dark.

Genya:

Genya’s mother is Aphrodite. The first of the gods. The one who rose from sea foam and scattered remains. The goddess who has forever been known for her beauty and her flighty nature. The goddess who’s power is forever mentioned, and never acknowledged. Who is blamed, but never respected for it’s own sake.

Genya inherits her mother’s face, her glowing eyes and flowing hair. She inherits her flawless skin and endless smile. Genya gets her vanity, her tendency to use beauty as a shield. Genya inherits her mother’s ability to lie, and later, when the beauty is marred, she finds she has inherited her mother’s ability to find her beauty in what she does. In the acts she can inspire. Not in the shape of her body and bones.

David:

David is more simple. His mother is Athena. His eyes are stormy, just as hers are meant to be. David doesn’t plan, but he invents. He thinks of new ways to win the war - any war, and never stops thinking of more. He tinkers, he invents, he alters. The world is broken. David thinks that’s alright. He is not Alina, but he has hubris too. If the world breaks, he will rebuild the world.

Zoya:

Zoya is born in the heart of a storm. The air is her friend and her servant. It bows to her and speeds her on her way. Zoya is a born commander. Lightning runs in her veins and the roar in her ears is forever the whistle of the wind. Her eyes glow a celestial blue and she stands tall and queenly long before she has that title. She fights below a banner emblazoned with an eagle and she has never once let the world know when she is afraid. She soars each day, and each day she worries that she may fall.

A horde of grisha, not to mention a country, scrambles before her. They need her help and encouragement like squabbling children. She wears power and arrogance and beauty like armor. Who else could her father be but Zeus, the lord of the Sky?

Nikolai:

Nikolai is a tricky. He is a planner and a cheat, manipulative and kind, perfectly polished and always a little rumpled, a common smuggler and a mighty king. He is at home anywhere and transient everywhere. He loves the sea, he rides a horse, he loves the wind in his hair. His godly parent could be Athena or Hermes or Poseidon. But in the end, what Nikolai is is simple. He is an addict. Addicted to life, to love, to attention, to adventure, to running and fighting and falling and flying. No one deceives like an addict, and apart from drugs or alcohol, Nikolai is addicted to everything. Addiction is about wanting, and Nikolai wants. His mind wants friends around him and all the knowledge he can find and a good conversation. His heart wants Zoya’s and For Ravka to thrive. Nikolai is good at knowing what people want too, and convincing then that he can give it to them if they will only give him a little bit of something in return. Just their hearts, just their souls, just their promises.

It’s the same power his father, Dionysus, has used on sailors and solider since just after time began. Sometimes, his eyes glow purple. It’s the shade of wine and power and madness alike. No one deceives like an addict, and Nikolai may just be the best liar there has ever been. Like his father, Nikolai is more than he seems. Everyone always forgets, the god of wine is the god of madness too.

Nina:

Nina is a mystery. She is an orphan so the god could be on either side of her bloodline. They all know she is a demigod, but no one knows what kind. She is beautiful and she is too much and she is constant and she is happy. People think for a while that her father might be Hermes because of her facility with languages. Later, when her heartrending abilities manifest more fully, they think she may be a child of Aphrodite like Genya. She talks fast, talks in different languages, talks to anyone and makes them believe her. When she works undercover, she lies with her whole body. Genya likes the idea of being an older sister and when Nina is missing, Genya grieves.

It isn’t until after the parem that everyone learns the truth. Death. Death is what Nina is. Everywhere at all times, everyone’s fear and everyone’s friend, communicating to all with no discrimination. The dead speak to her, she does what they ask, and they do what she asks. Hades’ daughter is welcoming and lonely and cold and kind. She holds a grudge like she once held a life raft and has her father’s smile. Maybe it’s not so mysterious. After all, Death and Love have never been all that far apart.

Mathias:

Forever orderly and forever the soldier. A soldier for his country, a soldier for a Barrel thief, and then in the end, he’s a soldier for Nina. For Nina’s heart, and wants, and loves. He has his father’s height and broad soldiers. His eyes are blue, but they burn just the same. He grows to the size he needs to be to keep his loved ones safe.

He uses the weapons at his disposal, even the Grisha he has sworn are more unnatural than any other wielded of power. He strategizes and fights and the wolves and their blood run in his veins as surely as the ice of his country does. His father is Mars, and when Mathias dies, he goes to the dark as all soldiers do. Embracing death as he would the girl he loves.

Wylan:

The cast out son of a father who expects too much. Who expects a level of perfection what Wylan will never meet. Even if this father is not the father of his blood, Wylan’s story is the mirror and repeat of the father who is. Thankfully, unlike Vulcan, Wylan’s expulsion from home does not involve being thrown off a mountain. That would have been harder to survive than a Ketterdam canal.

Wylan has his father’s insecurity and his genius. He invents things that explode and things that fly and things that open doors and things that save and things that kill. He has his father’s hands, his father’s skills, and his father’s horrible doubt. Wylan thinks that’s more than enough inheritance to be getting on with.

Jesper:

Colm Fahey is the perfect father, but his blood is not the spark that catches fire in Jesper’s mind. That spark and the winter-sunlight gray of his eyes is all Apollo. Jesper doesn’t like thinking about the fact that this god is his real father, Colm is perfect and Jesper wants nothing else, but the god is everywhere in Jesper.

Apollo is the warmth in his smile and the perfection in his aim. Apollo is Jesper’s flirtatious nature and love of music when Wylan plays the flute. Apollo is the way he stretches his whole body towards the sun wherever he can find it like a flower growing ever upward and in the way he can’t stand getting out of bed early. It’s all Apollo when Jesper looks at the least lovable people the barrel has to offer, and decides to believe in their best nature and nothing less.

Kaz:

Kaz’s father is a god. His father cannot die. Joride is Kaz’s brother. Jordie’s father gets crushed by a plow, and Kaz’s world collapses. It collapses all over again when Jordie dies too. Kaz thinks he’s just as mortal as his brother until the moment he wakes up and Jordie doesn’t. He uses his brother’s body to swim back to shore and from then on, Kaz knows what he is. Kaz is a thief, and he will take anything and everything Ketterdam has to offer.

He will steal money, steal life, steal secrets, and steal power. He will steal Inej’s smile and her laugh and horde each one the way that a magpie stores shining things. Kaz will steal the very bones of the city and rearrange it all in to something new, brick by brick. His hands will be dirty and he will cheat and lie and make coins vanish between the bloody fingers he inherits from Hermes - perfect for picking a lock and stealing a man’s fate. Kaz’s father may be the god of thieves, but he is also the god of messengers, and Kaz’s message is revenge.

Inej:

Inej lives her life in balance. The balance between justice and vengeance, between violence and peace, between forging in to the future and reaping penance for the past. Inej is the Wraith, and it is less that no law applies to her and more that she is a law unto herself. She weighs the nature of the powerful and lecherous of Ketterdam in the balance and she does find them wanting. She rights the disparity with sharp knives and feels no remorse. Those men and women have reaped what they have sown and there are no tears for that spilled blood.

Inej has her mother’s eyes, as black as judge’s robes. Her mother’s hands, as steady as a pilgrim’s faith. Her mother’s balance, precarious and constant and enduring. In the end who Inej’s mother is as unsurprising as the boy she loves. After all, what makes more sense than the daughter of Nemesis loving the boy who is in love with revenge? Unless of course, it’s that boy loving her back?

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planetariumx · 2 years

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Murder at the Movies

Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader (reader is not physically described so everyone can read ☺️)

Word count: almost 1.6k

Summary: based off the song Murder at the Movies by Sushi Soucy definitely give it a listen! (the last lines of this fic in italics are song lyrics) takes place before Nat joins the Avengers/Shield

Warnings: Minor spoilers for Black Widow (just tiny details), this is an angsty fic (again) and does not have a happy ending. As the title suggests, it’s about murder/death, guns, and stalking a target. it’s not creepy (just the usual spy stuff for Nat) but if you are worried I would recommend listening to the song first bc I based the plot off of the story in the song

A/N: I’m back on my sporadic writing bullshit 🤙 I mostly get fic ideas from songs so here’s another. I recently found this song and it gave me Natasha vibes so I wrote this! First time writing for Nat, she was my first avenger crush so I am very attached to her (canon who?) I know I don’t write much but every like/reblog makes my heart soar <;3 Masterlist

The job paid well. It should be easy enough, just a civilian who saw something they shouldn’t have. Natasha closes the folder with the information and sets it back down on the desk in front of her.

“You’ve got a deal.”

“Great, of course we ask for you to be discreet. If your reputation is to be believed we should have no problems.” spoke the client, “We also have a deadline, we’d like this done before anyone catches wind of it.”

~~~

Nat’s been tracking you for a few weeks now, taking note of your schedule and making notes on the routes you use. She’s gathered enough information and gets ready to finish the job tonight. You’d taken the day off from work and had spent the day outside. That evening Natasha follows you to the diner you frequent on weekends. She sits in a booth towards the back and orders a black coffee to keep up appearances while she waits. You sit alone, sipping on a milkshake while scrolling through your phone. Natasha is starting to get impatient when you look up and meet her eyes across the diner. You give her a smile and she quickly looks away. She catches you glancing at her a few times before you stand and bring your milkshake over to her table.

“Mind if I sit here?” You ask and she puts on a practiced smile and gestures for you to sit down across from her.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, it’s my birthday today and I was lonely and then I saw you looking at me- sorry I never do things like this but I guess I was feeling brave.” You start to ramble and grow quiet towards the end. Natasha finds it oddly endearing.

“Happy birthday” is her response, she gives you a genuine smile this time. You light up at that.

“Thanks, you can have some of my milkshake if you want, it’s my favorite.” You say as you reach for another straw. She doesn’t say it but it’s her favorite flavor too.

You both end up ordering some food and talk for hours, Natasha keeps the conversation away from talking about herself. It’s dark by the time the check comes. Natasha pays despite your insistence on at least splitting the bill. She argues it’s your birthday and you begrudgingly let her pay. She offers to walk you home and you chat the whole way home. She pretends not to know where you live. You wave as you shut the door.

She’ll do the job another night, it is your birthday after all. At least that’s what she tells herself.

~~~

It’s a few days later when she sees you again, well, when you see her again. It’s the weekend and you’ve mostly been at home but you needed to get groceries before the next week started. You’re walking down the cereal aisle when you spot a familiar red head. You greet her excitedly and say you’re happy to see her again. Natasha laughs and says the same, it may be more true than she realizes. She tells herself that getting you to trust her will make the job easier. You chat some more while you finish shopping and exchange numbers before going your separate ways.

You bump into each other a few more times in the coming week, it’s not a coincidence when Natasha knows your routine, but you don’t need to know that. By the next weekend you’ve invited her to the movies, there’s a new one you’ve been meaning to see but felt awkward going alone. She agrees and ‘forgets’ to bring her gun.

You both have a great time and she offers to get pizza after, you of course agree. You laugh and talk the whole night and Natasha tells you a little about herself, things she can tell you that is. You learn she dyed her hair blue when she was a kid, she speaks multiple languages, and the song American Pie reminds her of her sister.

She walks you home again and you agree to meet for lunch on Tuesday. She walks back to her own apartment and if she feels lighter than usual she doesn’t question it.

~~~

Going to the movies on the weekend becomes a habit for you two. Natasha finds herself smiling more than she ever has, and by the time she realizes how close she’s gotten to you, it’s too late. Last weekend, you had sat closer to her at dinner and ended up holding her hand in the movie. When she walked you home, you stood outside your door for longer than usual. She had been shocked when you dashed forward and kissed her cheek before spinning around and rushing inside, smiling shyly before wishing her a good night and closing the door. She had walked home in a daze, smiling and touching her cheek. She slept better than she ever had that night.

~~~

As the weeks passed and the deadline grew closer, Natasha starts to grow restless. She’s never had trouble with this before, never cared about a target like she cares about you. She’s been doing this her whole life, what changed? When did she get careless? How could she let this happen? She’s supposed to be a professional, she doesn’t get attached. It’s how she was raised, attachments cause problems. She understands that more now than ever.

You have no idea of her internal conflict, she is still a master assassin and spy after all. You are at the movies just like every weekend, you’re talking about something you read in a book recently but Natasha isn’t listening, too focused on her inner turmoil. She pulls you off to the side before you enter the theater.

“Listen, I- I’m not who you think I am.” She speaks low so others don’t hear, you give her a confused look but she continues before you can ask anything.

“I’ve never felt this way about a target before, it’s against my ways, it makes my job harder.”

“Nat what are you saying? What job?” You ask, surprisingly calm. She stays silent, not knowing what to say. She can see the gears turning in your mind, then a look of shock, followed by a look of understanding. She knows you’re smart, she can tell you’ve connected the dots. The crime you witnessed weeks ago, her coming into your life shortly after, never talking about where she comes from or what she does. You barely know anything about her but she seems to know everything about you.

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the previews” Your response confuses her but she lets you pull her into the theater.

The seats are mostly empty, only a few people scattered across the middle section. You lead her to the back row and sit down, patting the seat next to you. You make the usual small talk about the previews but Nat is trying to figure you out. She could have sworn you figured out what she was here to do, so why weren’t you running? You had willingly put yourself in the back of a dark, mostly empty room with her.

She is so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn’t even notice when the actual movie starts. She watches your face as you watch the film, you show no sign of fear. You are the most interesting person she has ever met and the gun tucked into her inner jacket pocket feels heavy.

When the main fight sequence in the movie starts, you turn to her. The sounds of the movie cover the words you whisper to her but she’s good at reading lips.

“It’s okay, I’m glad it’s you” and with that you close your eyes, lean in, and kiss her. Natasha doesn’t remember closing her eyes but when you pull away, her eyes blink open. Yours stay shut and you lean your head on her shoulder. Her heart feels like it’s about to implode and her hand shakes as she reaches into her jacket. You make no sound as she presses the gun against your chest, over your heart and clicks the safety off. A single tear rolls down Nat’s cheek and falls on the top of your head. You take her empty hand in yours, bring it to your lips and kiss it before lowering it to your lap, never letting go. Natasha listens for when the sound of the movie swells and feels numb as she pulls the trigger.

Your grip on her hand loosens and she feels like her own heart just shattered. The tears flow freely now as she sits in shock of what she’s done. Clicking the safety back on and tucking the gun under her shirt, she takes off her jacket and wraps it around you. She stands and lifts your limp body into her arms, wraps your own arms around her neck so it looks like you are sleeping. No one even glances at her as she carries you out of the theater.

~~~

Years later, she sits on a couch in Avengers Tower while Tony and Steve argue over which movie to watch. She hasn’t been paying attention to their bickering but when the opening of a familiar movie starts to play, she abruptly stands and leaves the room, muttering about not feeling well suddenly.

You can get away with murder at the movies

The action on the screen can mask the gunshot and the screams

Isn’t that so interesting

I find that interesting

(repost bc some stuff wasn't working before)

#my writing #reader insert #self insert #gn reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff angst #natalia romanova #song inspired

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ruthlesslistener · 3 years

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Wanna mush games together? imagine Bloodborne x hollow knight. what are your thoughts? (I hope this is distracting for ya )

OH I ACTUALLY HAVE A BLOODBORNE AU FOR HK THAT I RLLY NEED TO DO MORE FOR THAT'S PERFECT FOR THIS

Basic tdlr: This occurs kind of in the middle of the timeline for Bloodborne, after the start of the Hunt but before shit gets really bad/the Vileblood massacre happens. All of the gods are Great Ones (so they're not the antagonists in this, bc that doesn't fit bb's storyline), while the Healing Church represents Pharloom and the School of Mensis represents the Soul Sanctum. The details are as follows:

-The White Lady is the Queen of Cainhurst. PK is a Great One that takes Oedon's role, as well as superficially functioning as the King of Cainhurst (in that he has an illusory body that he plays puppet with in the waking world while the full wyrmlike reality of him is tucked away in the Pale Nightmare so that he doesn't destroy people's brains). They essentially follow the old Pthumerian tradition of the queen carrying the children of the Great One in exchange for eldritch knowledge, so WL's basically an immortal goddess at this point

-The Hollow Knight and Little Ghost are both children of PK and WL who took the appearence of Pthumerians when born, but are slowly evolving into Great Ones under the guidance of their parents. Hollow was captured by the Healing Church (or Mensis, still fine-tuning it rn) and forced through their evolution with the help of the Radiance, who has gone mad after being experimented on for so long and is indirectly responsible for the plague (as it is her blood in tandem with Hollow's that is being used in the experiments). She force-adopted Hollow and pushed them through their evolution after the humans slaughtered her child, which pissed off PK and WL, and pushed Hornet and Ghost to try to get them back

-Herrah is the leader of the Hunter of Hunters, and Hornet was conceived after she bartered with PK and WL for their help in training more hunter of hunters. She dissapeared into one of the nightmare realms when Hornet was but a child, leaving her to be raised in Cainhurst, so part of Hornet's quest isn't just getting her sibling back, it's also to find her mother and bring her home. Hornet is also a great deal more Pthumerian than her half-siblings because Herrah chose the 'conception via the god's vessel' route rather than the 'divine impregnation through the dream' thing that happens in canon

-Lurien and Monomon are both scholars of Byrgenworth, though I'm still figuring out their roles exactly

-The failed vessels are all celestial children that were created by the Choir after tricking WL to give some of her blood to the church and PK to invigorate it with echoes, bc I love the slug babies and think they're cute, but also there's no way that WL would have been able to give birth to all of them, immortality be damned

-To be protected from the church while she searches for her sibling, Hornet becomes a Hunter of the Dream for temporary immunity (Ghost has no need for this, they can access the realms whenever they wish). Unfortunately for her, she's paired with Tiso, a loudmouthed atheist outsider who joined the hunt because he heard it paid well, offered free healthcare, and got him bitches. Her, Tiso, and Ghost form a chaotic little hunter trio, with Tiso and Hornet offering melee damage while Ghost attacks with a knife and a fuckton of pure arcane spells. Hornet uses a rakuyo with arcane spells, Tiso uses the beast claws and loch shield, and Ghost is dubbed the Keeper of the Slugs

-As the night of the hunt wears on, Tiso slowly becomes more and more lost to beasthood (which isn't helped by his staunch refusal to accept the fact that the gods exist). He is terrified of this, and the accidental companionship formed adds a new layer of desperation to the search for Hollow, as Ghost is determined to find a way to stop the hunt and reverse the effects of beasthood on Tiso after their sibling is saved

-Lace and Sharpe are white and black church hunters assigned to murder Hornet and capture Ghost. Lace, however, fucking hates the church (despite being high-ranking in it), so before long their encounters turn more into a deadly courtship dance bc fuck you, gently dipping your rival in one hand while you tear their heart out with another is romantic as fuck, okay

#bloodborne #hollow knight #long post #bloodborne au #reply #ginger-goats-galore #lacenet #hk hornet #little ghost #hk tiso #love this au #really wish i knew how to draw bloodborne clothes skjdfhgbsdf

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great.

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point.

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time.

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from.

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about.

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze

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emikadreams · 3 years

Note

May I request a prompt?

Feyre being comforted by Cass and Az when Rhys isn't available or all the bat boys comforting her? Just their fluff?

And maybe Lucien and Rhys bonding because Lucien means so much to Feyre and Rhys making an effort for her?

Ahhhh I LOVEDDD THISSS!!!

thank uuu sooo much for sending this in and I hope u enjoy this fluff monster!💕

Also please be kind with me, I haven’t edited this properly, studying for exams iss a bitchhh

Spoiler warning for anyone who hasn’t read acosf...

Uncles Retreat

Rhys was gone.

Well, he was not home.

Ok fine he was at the Palace of Jewels but Feyre missed him horribly. She had thought it was impossible to miss him with every cell of her body but each new day shows her that her love for Rhys was like time; eternal and sweet.

Feyre sighed and decided that she wouldn’t get out of bed today, she had meetings to attend herself but after being pregnant her duties had lessened and Rhys made sure that she was stress-free, “Cauldron, I love him so much.” She said to their empty room but she heard a chuckle from the bond.

Her heart leapt as Rhys stroked talons down her shield and she lowered them instantly to let him in.

“Missing me, darling?”

“Horribly.” Rhys chuckled but she knew that he felt the same for the feelings he pushed back told her more than words could convey.

“I’m afraid that I’ll be stuck here for a couple of more hours darling.” Rhys sighed exasperatedly.

“Ugh fine, but can you bring me some dessert from Rita’s before you come home, I had been dreaming about it and now I’m starving!” She could feel Rhys smile with joy and pride as he said, “Tell our son that his father loves him to the end of the galaxy and back and that he will do anything to keep him and his mother happy.”

Feyre laughed, “He’s already got you wrapped around his finger, hasn’t he?”

“Oh most definitely darling, but I’m not complaining. You and Nyx are my everything.”

She could feel his promise resonate through her body but the moment was broken when her stomach rumbled and Rhys took that as his cue to bid goodbye, not before telling her to eat well.

“Overbearing mother hen,” Feyre said softly before getting out of bed to find something to eat.

Seeing the house empty she touched her belly and said to her son, “Looks like it’s just you and me, love.”

“Aha! Not so fast high lady!” said Cassian as he breezed into the house through the front door followed by Azriel who looked at her and her belly and smiled unabashedly, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh no.” Feyre exclaimed, “I know that look Az, that’s your ‘Cass has something planned but I won’t let him do it alone lest he burns another building’ look.”

Cassian squawked in offence and turned to glare at his brother who simply shrugged at him, “What? She’s not wrong is she, I didn’t come to that trip to the summer court and you managed to burn down an entire building.”

“It was one building for cauldron’s sake, a teeny tiny building.”

Feyre laughed seeing them bicker and shook her head but her heart warmed that she was finally a part of a family that cared for each other as if they were all related by blood.

Her eyes burned and her throat tightened with emotion, both the Illyrians were at her side in an instant, turning her this way and that, scanning her entire body before saying in unison,

“What hurts.”

“Do I need to call Madja?”

The former from Azriel and the latter from Cassian. Feyre stuck her tongue out at them before answering, “Nothing, you overbearing uncles. I’m fine. Pregnancy hormones, remember?”

They breathed a sigh of relief before beaming,

“Uncles. You called us uncles.” Cassian said, love, etched across his face.

“Well. that’s what you are, aren’t you? Might as well get used to it.”

They laughed and Feyre joined along before asking, “ Why are you here again?”

This time it was Az who replied albeit shyly, “Well, we know Rhys is stuck at meetings so we thought we’ll enjoy some quality time together.”

Feyre squealed with happiness and hugged both Az and Cass or rather squished them together awkwardly.

“ If we knew you were going to be this happy about spending time with us we would’ve kicked Rhys out, a long time ago.” Cassian grinned but frowned as Feyre yelped.

“What’s wrong,” Cassian asked, a promise of death swirling in his eyes at whatever threatened his high lady and her baby.

“I’m fine, he just kicked.”

“What!” they exclaimed,

“Oh that’s right we didn’t tell you guys, he started kicking a while ago.”

Cassian and Azriel stared, their jaws on the floor before Az cleared his throat and motioned whether he could feel her stomach, Feyre nodded, her face softening.

Az’s fingers were slightly shaking as he placed them gently on her round belly and waited, Nyx kicked with all the strength of an Illariyan almost as if he knew that his uncles were watching.

“Oh wow.” Az’s eyes were silver-lined and his lips were shaking, Cassian paid him no heed as he shoved Az and knelt in front of Feyre to put his hands on her belly.

Nyx replied with the same vigour he had shown Azriel.

“Hi, nephew! This is your awesome uncle Cassian speaking, I can’t wait for you to get here so that I can have someone as awesome as me to annoy your mom with.”

Feyre giggled and Cass stood up grinning.

“Now what?” Feyre asked, curious.

“Well, we can do whatever you want,” he replied

“Whatever I want.” Feyre grinned devilishly.

“Yup.”

Feyre giggled, a plan forming in her head. Cassian paled and tried to back away but Azriel caught his collar.

“You’re not going anywhere, you made your bed now lie in it,” Az said only half-joking.

Rhys was exhausted.

All he wanted to do was cuddle his pregnant mate and go to sleep not before she enjoyed the special dessert that Rita had made for her High lady, Rhys’s heart swelled with pride at how loved Feyre was. Which was what propelled him to get through with all the hour-long meetings but on arriving at the river house, a sense of dread washed over him.

His home was eerily quiet.

He called Feyre’s name but no reply came, he guessed that she was probably already asleep and decided to go into their room and found to his surprise his brothers sitting on their bed with feyre, all in loose clothing, a huge tray of food on their laps and with face cream and cucumber slices on their faces, their heads were leaned against the bed rest and it seemed as if they were getting facials.

Rhys burst out laughing causing the trio to turn their attention to him, cucumber slices falling out of their eyes and to Rhys’s eternal pleasure Cass and Az opened their mouths to explain but was rudely shushed by Feyre, “You’ll ruin it.” and they immediately shut up

Which caused Rhys to double over with laughter, a hand on the side of his face, they continued staring at him with disinterest.

After a good five minutes of Rhys laughing, he sobered took a steadying breath and said, “Mate, Shadowsinger, General,” nodding towards them he mentioned their names, “ can someone put it on my face too?” he asked and they all squealed with pleasure.

#feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #Azriel #bro tp #uncles #acotar #nyx #baby nyx #fluff #also i completely forgot what rhys calls az(spymaster?shadowsinger? or both)#answered #anon <3 #ask mee #prompt

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author-morgan · 3 years

Note

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist: @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

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