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unlady-like-12-25-36 · 2 years

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Happy Bunny Fest? || Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

A/n: Happy bday to our loving Tasha bear, who’s also my wife. And if it appears that I've taken down this post before, you're not seeing things, I did because tumblr hates me now 😒 so I reposted it

A/sn: This is written with Fem!reader. If that isn’t what you like do not read. And Plz be aware that it contains smutty content, but overall it's very fluffy. Read at your own risk

Contains: mild cursing, mommy kink, spit kink, a hint of exhibitionism and pet play if you squint. If there’s more, lmk

Translations:

котенок = kitten

Corazon = my heart

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It was a bright yet freezing early morning where everything was covered in about 5 inches of snow this year, leaving all the animals asleep for the winter. At the same time, some had already shed their spring coat and grown in their winter fur. Or if it were deer, elk even moose, they would have shed off their antlers. However, for the Avengers, it was an ordinary day at the compound; for once, everyone had a day off, which meant they had the freedom to sleep in. However, with it being Natasha's birthday, Tony had other ideas that led to a lot of grumbling for not letting the rest of the team sleep in for once, except for you and Natasha. And well, someone's got to keep the assassin at bay before Nat's party. I'm sorry. Let me rephrase that, Nat's birthday bash, that Natasha nearly threatened him for weeks to call it off just for making her birthday a big deal.

For those who don't know her well, You'd say she's pretty intimidating, no matter how much you want to deny how gorgeous she is. In reality, she's just someone who's never been shown kindness, love or even just taken a chance on her that's looking past her prickly exterior. And quite frankly, once you have, you'll be able to see that loving, soft yet protective person that she is. Or what you love to call her a bear, your Tasha bear. Well, that's only if you exclude the amount of sass she expresses daily. Fortunately for you, despite the irritability you've encountered when you first met, her life has changed for three and a half years since the day she was brought into Shield., especially during the fall of Shield. And yet, two years ago to today, both of you had officially become an item that led the whole team to let out their reliefs of not having to watch the both of you constantly pinning over each other. Yup, that’s right. You not only met her literally on the day of her birthday but Nat herself scored one with you three and a half years later on her birthday again since that day.

You were trying to soak up as much sleep as possible before Liho came in. Even then, it was short-lived as you started to hear her meowing at you and going as far as lighting tapping her paws on your arm and shoulders at how urgent it was for the sweet black cat to have her breakfast at her designated time. However, with it being your girlfriend's birthday, you didn't want to get up and miss the opportunity to admire her and snuggle her until she woke up. Fortunately, thanks to Tony, he's created a voice-activated feeding machine that produces food for Liho at times like this. But unlike any other cat feeding machines, this can make fresh wet cat food that Liho needs, especially at this time of the year when she's more prone to be dehydrated than usual.

When he made that cat-feeding machine, it surprised everyone since he had expressed his distaste for cats. Little did anyone know, just like Nat, Liho could sneak her way into everyone's hearts even if all it took were her adorable green beady eyes and a soft mew. However, Stark swayed when he was in his lab building one of his inventions just like any other day when he had asked his assistant robot to hand him one of his tools on the ground that was too far for him to leave his invention unattended. Yet, at that moment, as he had described the tool for the robot to get, Liho, who was grooming herself in her little corner of his lab, Liho had picked up the small screwdriver-like tool and brought it to him. But when the robot had not registered that Liho had done the job, it informed him that it was missing. Yet, just before he was ready to fire the robot from its job, Liho tapped her paw on his leg, leaving him pleasantly surprised that the cat did something nice for him. He was even thanking her with cat-friendly treats that he secretly kept around. That is until Natasha finally found Liho in his lab, going off on him for thinking that he was making her own cat turn into one of his robots. Thankfully because of Jarvis, it had shown what happened before she stormed in to get her cat. And even for an apology, he added in his generosity of creating a cat-feeding machine that made fresh wet cat food for Liho. Since then, Liho has never been healthier, no matter how much Natasha loves to deny that what Tony was feeding her wasn't real food.

Although it would be lovely to take a trip on memory lane of everything that had to do with Natasha and her constant antics when it comes to her cat, your mind is focused on all the ways to spoil her. As you had shifted over to Natasha's side to snuggle her, she had seamlessly and subconsciously turned things around with her laying on top of you with her head on your chest. This made you lightly chuckle and kiss the top of her head while running your fingers through her soft red hair. When she finally woke up, Natasha kissed where she could before lifting her head to groggily greet you with a good morning and a passionate make-out session.

"Seems like the birthday girl had a good dream last night", you say with a touch of a smirk on your face.

"I don't know who that might be, but she did say she enjoyed the well-earned rest, especially when it turns into a wet dream," she says in a way that's teasing.

"Well, whoever it might be is a lucky woman." At that moment, Natasha didn't waste any time and crashed her lips to yours while turning you fully on your back so she could straddle you, not once leaving your lips.

"Tasha, it's your day. Let me treat you."

"You're right. It is my day. So what I want is for my darling malyshka to please me. You wouldn't want to disobey me, do you?"

"N-no mommy."

"Good girl. Now be good and let mommy ride that pretty face."

As Natasha had positioned herself just above you, you were pleasantly surprised to see just how wet she was from that wet dream she had. No, she wasn't just wet. She's dripping for you, so much that it was starting to trickle down the inside of her knee. Without hesitation, you licked all that wetness off her legs and up to her core. Yet, as you licked the lips of her core, she shivered in pleasure as if she were electrocuted, only to push herself back down to your mouth. As she did, you started to tease her, licking and sucking anywhere except where she needed it the most. Nipping at the skin inside her thighs that surely leaves marks for weeks.

"Behave котенок. Don't make me upset and punish you."

"Sorry, mommy" with that, you held onto her thighs and ass and ate her out like it was your last meal. You gave her the bonus of lightly nipping at her clit, making her moan your name even louder and gripping your hair as a way to keep you close to her as possible.

"F*ck, y/n just like that!" She says as she now entirely sits on your face and tightly grips the headboard as you deliciously fuck her with your mouth.

At the same time, your room was filled with lewd noises from both of you. And even though both of you had seemingly forgotten to tell Jarvis to turn on soundproofing, none of you seemed to care if the whole team was hearing what was happening in both of your rooms. Even at that moment, just as everything for Natasha's party was set up, the whole team thought it was a good idea to roll in a small breakfast buffet for the both of you. However, not even five feet from your door, they soon realised why it was so easy to set up the party and not constantly worry when Natasha would show up in the middle of preparing like she does every year.

"Yes! Yes! Ah -God! Right there! Rught. There!" She yells, making you plunge two fingers right inside her at a brutal pace while you lick and suck her clit. Thus making her moan even louder for you.

As soon as the team heard a tiny bit of what was happening, they decided to hold off the party until what Tony called your loving sessions, a "bunny fest", was over.

Which, you had to admit, is true. Both you and Nat did have high sex drives, making Steve a lot more grumpy today than any other day because of how much both of you couldn't keep your hands to yourself. Therefore, ruining every piece of his opportunity to have a good time with the team.

Then as you roughly bit at Natasha's clit and thrust your fingers in a particular spot, you made her cum right in your mouth. It even made her squirt all over your face. Still, that didn't stop you from continuously eating her out as you helped her ride out her high. When she had her fill of you, she got off and licked all of her wetness off your face before bringing you in for a kiss with a taste of herself in your mouth. However, before she pulled back, she bit and licked at your lip, asking for entrance. When you complied, your tongue eagerly met with hers, letting her whirl her tongue in your mouth.

"Now that's a good girl." She said when she broke the kiss. She caressed it with her hand, softly holding your cheek and told you to open your mouth. As you obeyed her command, Natasha softly let some of her saliva fall from her lips and into your mouth. And because it was her birthday, she did three times before telling you to swallow. While you had swallowed her saliva, you kept your gaze on her eyes filled with lust. Yet, she dominantly gave you an expectant look.

"What do you say котенок?"

"Thank you, mommy."

"That's what I thought. Let this be your last warning, bunny. I don't like it when my pet disobeys me."

"Yes, mommy, I'm sor-" then, before you could finish your sentence, Tony begrudgingly bangs on the door

"If you're done fucking like bunnies, I suggest not starting again!" He yells through the door, making both of you laugh at how flustered the whole team must be after hearing how good you fucked Natasha.

"F*ck off, Stark! No one told you to listen!" You yelled back.

"I planned a birthday party! Not a kinky party!" With that, he walked away, hoping that was enough to convince both of you to leave the comfort of your bed, no matter how much you were caught up in Nat's lustful gaze.

And yet, much to your dismay, both of you decided that it was best to continue your sex-crazed session later. No matter how much the both of you dreaded Tony's party for Nat, that's been planned for weeks. So before the Maximoff twins get involved again, like last time, you and Natasha rushed your asses through the door.

After the party, both of you had never felt more relieved for it to be over. When both had settled in for the night, you decided now was the best time to give her your gift. When you reached under the bed in your secret compartment, you took her present out and sat next to your girlfriend.

"Happy birthday, Corazon," you say as you hand it to her.

When she ripped the wrapping paper off, it revealed a small black box. When she opened it, it contained a beautiful eccentric pendant that she hadn't seen anything like it before.(the picture of the kind of pendant i was imagining is the one above underneath nat’s suggestive eyebrow raising smirk gif)

"It's beautiful, Detka. Thank you," making her happily cry for the first time since meeting her. While you brought her into your arms and sweetly kissed her.

"This pendant I’m giving you isn't just any ordinary necklace. It's made from my home planet, Pandora, where I'm from, and it's been handed down for generations in my family. So now, wherever you're away, you have a piece of me with you."

"Detka, I- I don't know what to say. Are you sure?"

"For someone who's never been shown love or what it means to be a person and still bounce back to be the best version of yourself, I'd say you're more than worthy of being part of my family - even if they're all gone." You assured her with a loving smile, making her peck your lips once more and press her forehead with yours, enjoying the small, intimate moment among yourselves.

< --------------------

taglist: @natashasnoodle @mrscromanoff @adi06lena

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #black widow x you #liho the cat #tony stark #steve rogers #wanda maximoff #pietro maximov #pietro maximoff

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sgt-scottymoreau · 3 months

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NSFW Alphabet

I have seen this floating around for awhile and I finally sat down to make it for Scotty!

You know the drill peeps. MDNI 🔞

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Scotty is very pro aftercare. Talking of what they did, making sure her partner feels loved and comforted. On her side, she get pretty hungry afterwards give her some cookies and cuddles and she is in heaven!

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Her arms and breasts are part she loves of herself. In her partners, she doesn't really have a preference.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

Althought she didn't like to swallow when she started to experiment sexually, she's now fine with it. Otherwise, she loves the sensation of stickiness on her body. Definitely a creampie lover.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Althought she never been in one, Scotty does fantasize about gangbang once in a while. Bukkake is on the same list 🤭

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

She is very experimented. Sex is her way to reduce the stress of her work. Some drinks, others run or smoke, meanwhile Scotty just have some fun. She used to have a lot of one night stand during her army era. She calmed down a little by the time she joined the BSF and was moslty an 'angel' by the time she meet Ghost. Mind you, she did get herself often checked for STD! Health is important.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Doggystyle, especially if she is pushed against the mattress, and missonary.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

With the right partner, she is a total goof. She can be serious, but a good laugh is always welcomed.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Scotty is hairy, but does trim. As much as for her partner, she also doesn't like the sensation when it gets a little too bushy down there. She keep it short, but will never shave completely.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Because of her history, she doesn't see much of the intimacy aspect of sex. However since she dated Ghost, she learned what it meant to be more romantic during the act. She mostly translate it by giving a lot kisses, to let him softly touch her skin, this is what feel more romatic/intimate to her.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

She is feels comfortable with it. Mostly will masturbate on her own because she need to release some stress and no one can help or she is bored.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise(receiving/giving), Roleplay, Degradation (done only with a partner she trust), Creampie, Voice, Soft BSDM (she is a huge sub), Semi-public (the idea of being caught, but not actually be), Edging

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Any places will do for quickies. For longer session, bed or couch, somewhere comfortable is more likely.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Tease her a little, whisper sweet nothing in her ears, be a little bossy with her and you might turn on all the right buttons! Althought she knows when it's time to be serious and listen to Ghost's orders. Doesn't stop her to tell him how hot he was after the mission is done.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any painful acts/games (would includes knifeplay, anything ressembling torture and the like of what she could go throught with her line of work) Spanking/slapping to a certain level; gently and with someone she trust it's ok. Anal, big nope.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Scotty loves to give oral! According to Ghost, she is quite good at it, a little deepthroat prodigy! She likes to recieve but notc craving it intensily.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Being the sub that she is, she will match the pace of her partner. Depending on her mood and the time they have, she enjoy any pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

She loves them! Although she would say otherwise, she likes do quickie where Ghost will finish himself not her, because it means she can get the real thing later for sure ;)

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Going back to Kink, Location and Quickie, Scotty is willing to take a risk of public sex. She is also pretty open to experiement other kinks as long as it respect her No-Nos

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

She has a lot of stamina and the most round she lasted was 5. And the longest session she had, being edged and teased for a while, was 4 hours.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

She never owned toys till she moved out of her parents house and calmed down on her one night stands. She had a few and they are enough to help get off. She did had female parnters used strap-on on her or double end dildo.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Scotty will tease till she get herself in trouble. That's her favorite thing to do. Add a little bit of her acting bratty because she wants to push the limits! 🍒 Going a bit in my AU here, but when she is paired with Soap, these two would make a game out of who can tease Ghost the most or team up to work him up really good.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She is not very vocal unless she feels comfortable and safe. Or if her partner demands that she is, she can make it so.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

Safeword! Can't emphasis on how this is important to her. Becasue of her very open exprience with sex, she has healthy relationship with it. To her most of her more intimate escaped are such because it was mutual trust and respect. Scotty wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if they don't have a minumum of respect for what is about to happen. 🍒Scotty is very sub/bottom, she doesn't like to be in charge. Soap being the most versatile of the three often get her to play a little more assertive if he support her in their antics with Ghost.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Love to wear lingering when at home or off duty. Probably a D cup.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It depends on her mood really. Nowadays, it's on the normal side. Unless she built up some tension/stress. However too much stress might make her just want some cuddles since she dates Ghost.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends on how long the session was. A short one, she might still have energy to go around or for some pillow talk. A long one, give her ten minutes, especially it it involves cuddles afterwards, and she is gone!

#cod oc #call of duty oc #oc:camille scotty moreau #headcanons #keep it (not) tactical sgt

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hotgirlmythology · 2 years

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Margaery, scourge of arranged marriages

as you may have gathered I am not a big fan of arranged marriages so I made a character who dislikes them as well

Margaery is a rather whimsical character, born to a Viscount who cared more for fighting and feasting than diplomacy. His third child, and first daughter at that, he was woefully underexperienced in raising her the "proper" way. Her governess gave up on keeping track of her after she came very close to getting her chest stoved in by a horse kick when she was meant to be learning to identify herbs, and then was essentially put under house arrest so she was forced to learn all of these extremely important womanly things (sewing, herbalism and being able to sit a horse would actually come in very useful later), while being restricted from inviting any more horses to break her jaw. This extreme boredom went on for a couple of years until, on her birthday, her handmaid conspired with a stable groom who knew vaguely how to swing a sword to smuggle her out for a late night go around on a horse and give her a bit of a sword fight. Now, although this may seem extremely hastily put together and disorganised, that is because it was arranged a mere 3 days beforehand, after Margaery went on a half-hour long rant about the fact she was "fucking bored" of "poking bits of cloth with a malnourished sword" (translated into modern english). Margaery was also not told about her birthday present.

On the night this issue became apparent very quickly, as Margaery was not about to crawl out of the window along with her handmaid on some unspecified mission. After the stableboy showed up and started hissing curses at them for pulling him out of bed for no reason it all got a bit out of hand and Margaery gave up and went along with the fiasco. The horse ride was alright, as was the swordfight. Margaery was suspiciously good at swordfighting, and her handmaid watched it all with a faintly raised eyebrow, especially after she disarmed the stableboy for the fourth time in a row. Margaery was of course simply magically gifted with the sword, which is a common side effect of having a small angry fey stuck in the upside down planks of your bed feeding you dreams of fire and war for 6 years and thus somewhat unavoidable. After this fun endeavour, Margaery returned to being slightly more indifferent to her allotted life than she probably should have been. The fey living in her bed for its part was well happy with the fact that the person who lay on top of it 8-10 hours a night was finally doing something with the wide variety of angry dreams it had concocted. Margaery, for instance, would often find herself yelling in rage at her pillow until realising it was in fact a pillow. Eventually, at 16 she discovered a brilliant trick called barefaced lying, which she used to go on many "herb gathering" trips (sword fighting sessions) and absolutely under no circumstances did she dig out history and geography books and learn about a world that was greatly more interesting than a pokey little village in the backgarden of great shittington (one day to become shitting-on-the-wold).

As is common of people who learn about places that books insist are vastly more interesting than where you live, she decided that under no circumstances was she going to be tied to her home for the rest of her life. However, cunningly, the plot has a way to subvert this too. She got betrothed to a lord about her age at 18 years old, started courting him after the fact, and then got married at 19. She did not like him very much, which is to say, she loathed him with every fibre of her being, mostly because he kept on being interested in things like diplomacy and noble standing. This bored her stiff. The one time he tried to show off his brilliant sword skills was a bit invalidated when she smashed his sword out of his hand in the first ten seconds with a big stick, which might have contributed to this sense of not wanting to talk fighting with her. It did not come as much of a surprise to him when he woke up one morning to find his bed empty and the sword he'd been given as a wedding present stolen (as a matter of fact he was rather relieved - he hadn't wanted to marry very much either. Too many emotions involved.)

A couple of weeks later, the stableboy she had been in cahoots with all that time ago had mysteriously vanished, alongside the scullery maid he'd been courting. Her bed had by then been completely deconstructed, and the fae had escaped it. Said fae, however, was not about to let 6 years of high quality angry dreams just walk off, so it zipped off after Margaery and her entourage of 3 as they walked off into the wide world to go and annul some marriages, which they had all agreed was a pretty good calling. The angry fae spirit would then follow them, flowing into Margaery's sword at opportune moments to set it alight with eldritch fire and also, just because it wanted to show off, make her eyes light up. It didn't know this, but the eyes lighting up were actually Margaery's doing, or rather what she had done in all those dreams it had fed her. One day, she would be called the Faerie Knight, the scourge of order and christendom, crossing the country wearing a hunting dress and a drab sword and showing the knights of the realm exactly what she thought of their loveless relationships and destruction of the hidden places that pagans still worshipped at. Though she would only occasionally witness it, the eyes of the Seelie court would watch her every move through the wilderness of England and beyond, and those she wished not to lay eyes on her would quickly find themselves led completely astray.

Basically an adventure loving gal who by dint of having an angry fae living in her bed and an upbringing of steel became a demon with a sword and alongside her plucky friends and also the entirety of europe's fae population set out to keep the wilderness wild and love lovely.

#fae folk #original character #character concept #female knight #knight #medieval #fantasy

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starlingsrps · 4 months

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sister mary cosmopolitan explains it all.

there’s a smudge of lipstick on nell’s chin when she finally gets in from what was supposed to be a quick walk with captain holland.

walk. sure. some fucking walk.

helen is at evening chapel and should be back soon. mary had thought about biking to town to have a drink and a laugh but was pmsing in a way that had her ready to strangle the next man who asked her a question. she stayed back to wash and set her hair instead. she’d been thinking about painting her nails when nell got back, redirecting her attention.

“you’ve got,” mary taps her own chin and holds out her cold cream. “might want that off before helen gets back.”

“oh.” nell flushes adorably and takes the jar. “thank you.”

mary can’t help but tease her a little. “have a nice walk?”

her skin slips from pink to red and she mumbles something about it being a nice clear night before disappearing into their tiny bathroom.

if nell was getting involved with anyone else, she’d have more cause for concern. if it were hatcher or any of the other jackals, she’d have shipped nellhome in a box herself. as it is, holland is just nell with a dick. he’s so wholesome, she’d be amazed if he were capable of an impure thought but ever since he got back from that conference with halstead, their little evening walks have lasted longer and longer and nell has been coming back with a half glazed look on her face that mary knows a little too well from personal experience.

she doesn’t have to ask and she knows it. she can keep her mouth shut and her nose in her own business but…christ, it’s nell. mary feels like an awkward parent and then remembers she’s older than nell but not by that much - an aunt, maybe, but that doesn’t make her feel any better. it’s not that she can’t talk sex - she does, extravagantly with the other girls - but nell is such an absolute innocent that mary finds herself struggling to translate it in a way that won’t scare her off. “you and holland are being…careful, right?”

nell’s face, covered in cold cream, pokes out of the bathroom. “careful how?” she pauses in thought. “oh, i mean we’re not taking out an ad for brass or anything but-“

she’s going to kill herself. there’s no way she can ever be a parent. “i meant like a condom.”

“like a…oh my god,” she ducks back inside and mary hears the sounds of her hastily wrapping up her grooming. she comes out again with a clean face and with her uniform folded over her arm.”i - we-“

“look, holland seems to know what he’s doing and i know you can turn a man down but i don’t want any curly headed little accidents to fuck you both up.”

nell has now blushed so violently that she’s almost purple. “he’s been very respectful,” she mumbles, hanging up her clothes.

when she turns around, there’s a hickey the size of a silver dollar on her collarbone revealed by the strap of her slip and mary sighs. “is he a gentleman or a vampire?”

nell glances down, claps a hand over it, and when she looks back at mary, her eyes are wary and shuttered, the color fading from her cheeks. “he’s a - i’m sorry.”

mary recognizes the stiff, hunched set of her shoulders and careful look on her face, the same as when helen starts getting a little too fire and brimstone. whatever church she went to as a kid did a number on her and mary is suddenly grateful for her religious instruction being half assed at best. “the fuck are you apologizing to me for?” mary sighs again and drops her head in her hands. “i’m not mad. i’m just impressed holland has it in him.”

nell thaws a little, pulls out her nightgown and ducks behind the screen to change.

mary decides that she’s going to fight nell’s mother if she ever gets the chance. she’s had that gut feeling for months and now she knows she’ll wipe the floor with mrs. howard and have a great time doing it. “look: does he make you feel good?”

nell hesitates long enough that mary wonders if she’s going to have to put holland on that same list of people to fight but when she comes back around the screen, she’s fighting back a smile and nods.

“then fuck it. god’s got other shit to worry about.” nell laughs and sits cross-legged on her bed, pulling her pillow into her lap. her bed faces mary’s and it’s another reason she’s not looking forward to the new girl. it’s like a sleepover. “if he’s treating you well and you’re being safe, then don’t worry about it.”

she sighs, a soft and dreamy little sigh and mary hates that she’s a tiny, tiny bit jealous. not of holland - he’s adorable but mary knows she’d eat him alive and use his bones to file her nails - but of that early relationship shimmer where everything is perfect and possible. “he’s really great, mary.”

“good, i’m glad. but you’re not getting out of this.” she leans over and roots in her nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom from her stash. she holds it in front of her like a piece of evidence at a trial. “this is a condom.”

“i know what a condom is, mary.”

“thank god. that saves me at least five minutes.” she fumbles again. “have you…used one before?”

nell clears her throat and punches the pillow in her lap. “um, well. no. but we’re…slow.”

“yeah, he doesn’t seem like the type to fuck you against a tree out of nowhere.” she tosses it onto nell’s mattress. “i’ve got more in my bottom drawer. help yourself but don’t leave it empty.”

she mumbles a thank you and turns the little foil square over in her fingers.

“if anyone, holland or otherwise, tells you he doesn’t want to use one, you sock him right in the nose and get the hell out of there, got it?”

“i got it.”

mary doesn’t know where to go next. there’s condom application, anatomy, positioning and she’s not sure where to start that won’t make either of them die from embarrassment. she’ll have to see what she can do about some dirty novels. hers have been loaned out to a few of the wacs but she can easily get them back. all she has right now is a trashy little number called silken sally without much of a plot but at least has a few scenes with a woman on top. that’ll be good for nell, at the very least, as long as she doesn’t think too hard about the plot. she tosses it next to the condom. “here, read this. there’s some good bits you’ll like.”

nell thumbs through it and stops at random. she reads for a moment and her eyebrows fly up. “oh! oh my god, people like that?”

with no way of knowing exactly which scene it is, mary shrugs. “sure. you might if you give it a shot.”

helen comes in, bringing a cold wind and burst of mist with her. “oh, am i interrupting?” she asks, eyes darting to the condom on the mattress and book in nell’s hands.

mary meets her gaze and shakes her head slowly. she likes helen must fine, contrary to popular belief. she’s about as serious as a heart attack but she’s a work horse with a strong, steady heart. she’ll be a great nun when she goes home but right now, mary needs her to get the hell out of here so she can explain to nell what and where her clitoris is.

“i’ll do another lap,” helen says, looping her scarf back around her neck and leaving again.

#type: writing #s: mary x nell #verse: at the end of the world #look lindsay i said i try again with the title when i moved it i didn't say it would be good.

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

—𝑨𝒏 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝑬𝒙𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆. 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓—

summary : you sell your virginity to John Wick.

warnings : smut, consensual sex. oral sex. x f! reader. 5.5k.

notes : hope ya like it! I’m hoping to actually maybe make a part two. I think it would be nice to explore how this turns out for them. please leave feedback! I’m a little nervous about this one, feedback would be so so appreciated. enjoy! xx

John Wick is a man of focus; little diversions that fray from his work were often absent of his mind. It’s been years since his semblance of hope, the light at the end of the tunnel had gave out on him, and he’d been dragged back into the world of gruesome sin for good.

Bound, serving under the table. A life liberate of vice was something John had stopped dreaming of long ago.

Work had been all that engrossed John, absorbed each inch of energy his battered bones could muster up for far too long. To be working, meant to be seldom alone. Being alone, translated to being unaccompanied, with himself. Listening to the weary, dark loomed thoughts that crawled in the crevices of his mind.

A crisp pour of amber bourbon sloshes into the clear crystal glass; a lone cube of sparkler ice accompanies the liquor John would soon shoot. Something that burns, something that might ease the part of him that thinks, ponders, wonders if this was alright.

Is what he’s doing, really, alright?

He stands, leaning on the high raised counter of the bar equipped in his hotel room. The crème walls of the Continental held many secrets, secured home to the worst of folk he’d had the ill-fate of dwelling among.

The men in here were awful. Cold, indifferent, chilled blood coursing wicked veins; John knew well of the evil that rummages within the corridors of this so called, safe haven.

Anyone else would destroy her.

Could ruin her.

John wouldn’t do that. Something separates John from the bulk of the crowds, something that differs him from the norm. John would on no occasion hurt an innocent being. John wouldn’t rip her to shreds. John would treat her as human; something people often forgot that John too, is.

Temporary relief, relaxation, substance; he’d vexed them all. Often, after a job well complete, he’d find himself in dire need of long repose; a minute to rest his somnolent composure. A moment to recharge, before he’d be forced to do it all over. Human contact, connection, was something he’d scarcely recalled.

A Bourbon would often have to do, the familiar scald down the cascade of his throat the only comfort he’d been accustomed to as of late. Yet recent, he’d been craving more. He’d been yearning for something more; something physical to satiate relief.

A heavy inhale floods his lungs, a lone hand held to his drink as his other toys with the collar of his brittle white dress shirt. Her eyes stayed on him, drinking in each of his features, desperate to understand how he’d be. John Wick is a man of few words, a stoic nature barely illuminating enough light to read.

He turns, the crystal glass set down on the hotel room table as he turns to her, on his bed, her legs crossed closed, silent. Like a lover, the silk of her short black dress seduces each curve of her devourable body, thin straps kissed to her satin shoulders, her silken skin gleaming under the hotel room lights. His voice is deep, ravishingly rich, throaty with gruff as it protrudes her ears. “You’ve never done this before?” He confirms, walking closer to her delicate frame, watching her equally unreadable expression.

When he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d found himself unable to look away. Captivatingly beautiful, enough to make any man week in his knees. John wasn’t one to fantasize, to want a woman, let alone offer a second look.

Yet seeing her, he’d downed in the enchant of her beautiful features; and the best part of all,

She was selling. She’d been looking to give herself to the highest bidder.

John Wick had found himself at the right place, at the right time. An impulsive buy, one might say. But he couldn’t leave her. Not only did his body yearn for someone, something to channel his deep need into, he also knew. She was far too precious, pure; whatever circumstances had brought her to do such a thing, he wouldn’t ask.

He’d buy her. And he’d use her service.

He needed it. Sex hungry, his body longs for someone real to take care of him.

Her eyes are soft, lips stained a rosy shade of mauve as she makes direct eye contact. Blushy cheeks, soft, shining hair flutters gentle in free air as she shakes her head ‘no’.

She’d never been with anyone before. She was pure. Untouched.

With a down of the final few drops of drink in his glass, John’s shirt unbuttons, peeled off his torso in a swift motion, revealing beautifully toned, bulked muscles; rosy skin, a broad back, tattooed with bold ink on display. John must have been 20 years her senior, yet his shape proved peak. Firm biceps, defined torso, beautifully groomed, lengthy chocolate locks only adding to his splendour.

She’d expected to be bought by some middle aged, unattractive man looking to be with anyone other than his wife. John was far from that. She didn’t know if he’d seen seeing anyone else, if he was married, taken.

Not that it was any of her business.

She watches his hands move to fondle a heavy worn belt, working the buckle as it comes off his dark slacks.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do.”

John’s rich voice surges through her ears, his question falling his thin taut lips as more of a statement, an establishment of boundaries.

She didn’t think she’d get that choice. She’d expected to be used however her buyer pleased.

With a gentle clear of throat, she nods her head no, gazing out the window of the high story hotel suite. Busy New York city life buzzes below, the nightlife pulsing through the city heart. Endless opportunity. Endless chance.

John’s belt thuds to the marble floor with a heavy clink, his body inching closer, hand dangerously close to her feeble frame as he asks, the question sending shivers down her spine. “Can I undress you?”

The question came with surprise. Part of her thanked the universe for delivering her to John, of all men. He’d been hard to read, reserved, but he hadn’t done what she’d prepared herself for immense. Although she knew, her body was merely a vessel for him to use, to get what he wanted, he hadn’t treated her as such. Hadn’t treated her as she’d gave up her right to respect when she’d bartered her purity.

When Y/N nodded, John moves in closer, placing his dense frame beside hers as he begins, unravelling her as if a present. Yearning, wondering of what held underneath the rippling drapes of the sleek fabric, his eyes gloss over her skin, thick fingers removing the straps of her dress, before reaching behind her to unzip the seams of her wear. Diminishing to her mid, her modesty falls perfectly plump on her chest, embellished in expensive lace. The swell of her chest leaves him feel the weight in his pants to harden, the sight of her cleavage, pursing together with hardened nipples. Unclasping the dainty hooks that shield her breasts from his prying gaze, John allows the thin textile to fall off, exposing her beautiful femininity; her breathtaking curves, soft, supple skin tender to the touch. His hands can’t seem to resist, callous palms moving in to roam the exquisiteness, thumbs swirling her tender nipples as he sighs, drinking her in.

“Stand up.” John’s voice demands, his own form staying placed at the foot of the bed as he instructs. Doing as told, she feels his warm hands tug at the seams of her dress, allowing the fabric to pool at her feet, leaving behind nothing but her lacy underwear covering what no one had indulged in before. Paired with pencil black heels, John takes a moment to devour the look of her stood in front of him; bare, voluptuous, almost entirely nude, causing a tent to rise in his pants. Without time to waste, his fingers intrude the skimpy cloth, gentle peeling her panties down, revealing all of her, solely, exclusively for his taking.

Had this not been an exchange where John owned her, he might have just fell prisoner to her mercy. Y/N was a beauty he’d never seen, mirroring a sex siren in her own right. The dips and curves of her frame mesmerise him, a gulp swallowed down his tight throat, a hefty palm unknowingly moving to palm his swollen cock through the fabric of his slacks. She bites her lip, vulnerable, never have being shown to anyone this way before.

John was the first to see her in all her glory, she finds herself moving shy hands to cover her form, nervous to the way he scans each inch of her body, as if memorizing it, keeping the sight locked away, stored within his gaze forever. “Gorgeous…” John’s voice whispers a gruff, two of his sturdy fingers moving to slick through her folds, palming her pussy as shivers tingle down her spine. She’d been trying her best to stay calm, to allow John to do as he pleased.

Right now, in this moment, her body rightfully belonged to him. He was permitted to do whatever he sought.

“I want you on your knees.” John explains firmly, connecting his bold gaze to hers and she nods, falling in front of his form sat on the silky sheets. Without a moment to waste, his hands trail down his zipper, throwing the expensively stitched slacks off his thighs to the floor, left in nothing but a pair of thin boxers. In a swift moment, his stocky fingers dip into the opening, allowing a hardened shaft to fall out in his grip, full, bursting balls to accompany.

She’d seen a man’s cock before; but John, John’s member was a sight to be seen. She swallows, intrigued by the grandeur, the rosy tip swollen, the thick veins that run up his length, a slight curve to its form. He offers himself a few measly tugs, dark eyes connecting to hers once again. “Do you want a safe word?”

A safe word. Perhaps if a word; a small, paltry word could save her from nonetheless being in this situation, she would have used it.

“No.” Her voice falls quiet, eyes diverted to the crème marble below. “If its too much, I’ll tell.” In the dim light of the room, a channel glow casts to her exposed skin; velvet and soft, making the plump of her mauve stained lips rouse John’s needy cock in desperate anticipation.

Without hesitation, John’s lust falls deeper, his throat tight, breath heavy.

Being with a woman, was something John felt had last happened centuries ago. Seeing her, stripped, uncovered, on her knees, keenly awaiting to be wrapped around his length; a fire burns in his belly. A hunger that rumbles across the surface, desperately ready to chase sweet, sweet relief, from her.

“Here,” John encourages, taking hold of his base with a loose grip. With his spare palm, his fingers thread into the locks of her hair, gently pulling her mouth closer. Slowly, firmly, his palm glides over the bottom of his shaft, beads of glossy pre cum quivering out the pink tip as he speaks. “Put those pretty lips on me.” Obliging, she nods, positioned between John’s thighs, nervous to the core.

She’d seen videos, heard people talk. But she’d never taken a man into her mouth before.

John would be the first, to feel her in every sinning way he pleased.

“Fuck,” John sighs through gritted teeth, feeling the warm haven of her lips circle around the thickness of his tip. Tightening on her tresses, his hand falls from his base, cupping hers in a gentle hold, before guiding it to replace his own. “Use your hands on what you can’t fit.” He instructs, walnut eyes darker, yet held with a certain sympathy.

A tenderness; mortality. “Move, baby.” John manages, eyes fluttering shut as his senses indulge, the feel of her tongue gently, kindly swirling his shaft take over. Gradually, his hand, laced within the locks of her hair guides her further down the bulk of his cock, forcing her to take a little more with each eager bob.

“Hallow your cheeks, darling.” John watches her intent, in awe with the way she learns so quick. “Eyes on me,” Practically sputtering into a pool of bliss, John’s deep baritoned words sear through her veins.

“Tighter.

Deeper.”

Drawn into his, her eyes pierce into his own earthy orbs, unknown to the throb of arousal growing in her core; John bought her for the evening. Was it sick of her to be…fascinated by him?

His room is simple. A suit jacket rests to the arm chair on the right, a barely touched bar of liquor to accompany. Little of him can be told from the depths of this room, perhaps he wasn’t here too often.

The folk of the Continental were scarce when not at work, leaving little trace of who they really were behind. She’d heard whispers of a man they called John Wick, she hadn’t been entirely unfamiliar to the dread he’d upheld within the sanctioned walls. Wick was a name that held fear to the tips of even the worst of sinner’s tongues; yet she finds herself far from. She wasn’t fearful of John Wick. She wasn’t scared of what he’d do.

As John urges her further, a choked gap emits her throat, eyes filling with a char of hot tears with his cock still shoved inside her mouth. Collecting herself, she keeps him inside, albeit, allowing some of him to fall out. “You’re alright.” John soothes, wiping escaped tears with his callous thumb. “You’re doing well.” With a nod, her movements commence, eager to find her pace again, free hands massaging his thick balls and veiny shaft that couldn’t accommodate in her mouth.

The sound of hallow gags and a mouth full of cock echo the room, throaty slickness and gasp for breath, John harshly praising her with a guide of pace. “Perfect. Fucking perfect.” A firm hand follows suit to her bare breast, palming, kneading the fleshy skin as her mouth words wonders on his sensitive skin. Without much notice, John’s eager hips buck impatiently into her mouth, so nonchalantly, a test of waters if you may.

If he had it his way, he would fuck her tiny mouth senselessly right then and there. Have her throat bruising, aching for days in his aftermath.

But John Wick isn’t a monster. John isn’t selfish.

Each time she comes down, slowly, cautiously, his swollen tip hits the back of her throat, threatening to venture further with each throb John’s bulge radiates inside. With his hips thrusting into her mouth lightly, John’s jaw tightens, goosebumps peppering his ink adorned skin. With his pace fastening, his primal desires barely cease; barely offer mercy when he pulls her head closer, wrapping his palms firmly to her head as he moves her head on his cock hastier, stiff, needier, causing srteams of sweltering tears to flow her soft cheeks as she tries her best to hold in her gags. Dangerously close to release, her head yankers back in John’s grip; strings of saliva webbing off her lips, connected to his tender shaft, allowing the bulk of his member to fall out, still erect to an intimidatingly large size.

He could have done with just her sinfully tight mouth; yet he wouldn’t. Tonight, he’d cum inside her. Tonight, he’d have something other than the lonesome grip of his sloppy hand for company; to extinguish that rummaging burn.

With a rise off the bed, John offers her a larger hand, eyes interlocked as she accepts, rising off the ground. His gravelly voice is low, Y/N’s unchecked tears and swollen lips leaving her a beautiful mess as John’s inquisitive gaze washes over her. What comes next, causes her breath to hitch; her insides searing, arousal growing wetter by the second.

With his rock hard cock digging into the skin of her stomach, she finds her self locked lips with John, who’s taken her in a sweet kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. The kiss personifies appetite, thirst, all things John craved in the moment. With his hand taking hers, deliberate movements guide her to the tall side of the bed, silky sheets and cotton pillows awaiting her arrival. His skin smells of cologne, something expensive, something sauvage. The taste of his heavy liquored tongue meddles with hers before letting go, lustful eyes encouraging her to lay down in the ripple of sheets. With his cock firm in his hand, he continues to offer himself a couple of strokes, a spare hand intruding into the hard oak nightstand to the side.

“Are you taking anything?” His voice flows through the room, heavy, shallow, adding clarification when her brows furrow. “For protection.”

Fiddling with her growing nervous fingers, she tenses, suddenly urged with the realization of what would come next. This was happening.

This was

really

happening.

John was going to fuck her. John, soon, would take that piece of her. This beautiful stranger, mysterious, yet intriguing, would make a part of her belong to him

forever.

“No sir.” She answers, eyes downcast, unsure of where to look as he preps himself. Fishing out a condom from the side drawer, the silver lining falls discarded somewhere on the marble floor along with the shambles of their clothes, mindlessly placed. “Lay down.” John tells, dimming the lights further, the curtains closed shut as night falls over the shadowy New York city horizon. She does as told, awaiting his body to accompany.

Her eyes find his back once again, watching delicate, cryptic ink that coats his broad skin in curiosity. A seemingly cross centers in the middle, an arrangement of words unknown to her cognizance bedecked along. As he finds himself crawling a top her sprawled figure, his hands guide her legs open further, hand palming her mound as she bites her lip. Slow, steady, he guides in the stock of two fingers, sensually slow, preparing her pretty cunt for his taking.

Coated with her silky arousal, his fingers gleam, a creamy mixture of her gloss glazed over his hand. Punctuated by her tender, soft, barely audible whimpers, a light chuckle emits John’s throat. “You don’t have to stay quiet.” He clears, fingers pumping slightly faster now, expertly judging her expressions. “Ever done this before?”

Y/N was a virgin; but no saint by any means. She’d touched herself before, even brought herself to orgasm on occasion. With a shy nod, she answers, punctuated by her own barely held together, soft moans to the feel of John’s much thicker fingers pulsing in and out of her. With the pad of his thumb, he works her clit, his hand arranging a beautiful symphony begging to fall off her lips.

The feel of John’s touch was nothing like her own, paired with the weight of his body on hers. As if habitually, her back arches, her toes curl, a whimper secreted when he draws his fingers out. With his heavy cock in hand, John lines himself up with her entrance, wanting nothing more than to be buried inside; to feel what she had to offer. With his enlarged tip rubbing over her clit, his voice registers barely in her ears, lost in the feel of him on her.

“Tell me to stop.” His gravelly voice reminds, assertion heavy on his tongue.

John was proving awfully hard to read. She appreciates the respect; the boundaries he was willing to set for her. She’d sworn, she could see a light of humility in him, contrasted, laced with dark need. If he wanted, she knew he could ruin her.

Without much warning, she feels his tip impend into her walls, sinking slow, stretched by his weight, her eyes widening noticeably when John’s girth pushes into her, cock widening her immensely.

She knew John’s member would be far larger than the feel of anything she’d felt before; yet perhaps she’d underestimated just how much larger it would feel. Plunging in further, a tight moan escapes John’s lips, drowning in further, slower, steadier, until he’s reached her end. Hissing at her tightness, he feels her clench around him, a breathy gasp of her own fleeing, nails sinking into the sheets in a fitted clasp.

Had the circumstances been different, he’d have asked her to hold onto him instead; maybe even let her burry her face in his neck as he works her body whole.

But that wasn’t what this was. This was merely an exchange. An agreement for him to get exactly what he needed;

mind blowing sex.

All John needed right now, was a rough, and good fuck to hold him over.

He stays still for a moment, feeling her cunt pulse around him, and her eyes shut tight, breathing measured as she relishes in the feel of him full, nestled inside her wet haven, before placing both sturdy hands on her hips in a strong hold. Rapt with desire, John’s primal instincts kick in, the feel of her welcoming pussy so perfectly mould to his cock; he’d sworn or a moment that she was perfectly, exclusively crafted just for him to fuck. With his hips picking up pace, John sucks in a sharp breath, a groan of pleasure to the way her heavenly walls tighten around him, tight, blissfully gratifying.

She can’t help but gasp, searing tears returning once again to the ungodly stretch. John burns inside, allowing her minimal time to adjust. His hips buck into hers, gradually picking up pace as he thrust deeper, harder, conjuring up an almost selfish pace.

She’d never felt anything like this before. The pain, the pleasure. The sinful pleasure of him practically splitting her inch by inch. His cock glides in and out her constricted entrance, and she practically whimpers; unsure of whether the moans signified pain, or immense pleasure.

It hurt, but in the best ways possible. His aggressive roll of hips only quickens, faster and faster until Y/N’s moans caged no more. Her lips longed to moan his name, scarcely able to keep her eyes open to see the way he pants above her figure.

With her breasts bouncing vigorously to his pace, John’s want only cultivates further. Watching his cock glide in and out of her sends him in a frenzy, the way she violently jerks with each movement, the sound of his balls smacking against her sweltering core give life to a filthy symphony of her stifled yelps and moans, blended religiously with his growls and throaty gruffs.

His eyes roll shut and he bites his lip, the sounds of her wetness bobbing him fill the room to his violent labour of hips, each time he sinks in and out. His cock glistens with her honeyed dew, her hand reverting over her mouth to confine a loud moan threatening to surface. Whimpering, she bites her arm in complete ecstasy, the feel of John throbbing, completely filling her whole becoming much.

John had been practically pounding her, minutes in. The feeling of having someone to spend the night with, left him far more aroused than he’d initially planned. Her legs tremble, gazing down to observe the way his load exits her cunt fully before slamming back in repeatedly, over, and over, and over, erratic imperative. With every nerve in her body threatening to snap, she relishes a moment to feel John inside.

John’s thickness is something she doesn’t think she’ll be able to forget. Each nerve, each throbbing vein, that curve of his shaft she witnessed earlier; his thrusts become urgent, cock twitching within, grinding vigorously to her g spot as his breathe lays hot, close to her skin. Ridged and rough, his fingers threaten to leave purple bruises peppering into her hips, his hold of her body immensely stiff, as if fearful of her disappearing. The bed below creeks, headboard assaulting the walls with profound hits to his demanding haste; she’s already sore from his massive size, and he hasn’t even finished yet.

“Fuck...you feel,” John’s deep voice, sultry and stiff surges her ears, rich as butter. “You feel fucking amazing, tighten up for me, darling.” He instructs, wanting to feel her milk his cock. She follows as told, squeezing her walls around him, squirming, wailing underneath his form. He pushes as much of himself in as possible and she screams, feeling a cocktail of their fusing released drip down her thighs. John looks delectable this way; beads of exertion peppered to his forehead, muscled skin sticking to hers, the smell of sex prominent around them as he continues pumping her relentlessly, senselessly. To a particularly rough thrust, her toes curl, arms coming around his shoulders to hold on dearly, tightly as he continues his rummage into her body. She holds tight, fingernails digging into his skin as grunts and ear-splitting moans intrude the atmosphere.

John is fucking her so well, so intense, that tears fall still, the raunchy sounds of skin slapping skin, enticing whispers of praise off his lips for her body only pushing her further. John feels his release close, lost in the tender haven she’d given him to spoil in, and he shudders; shivering, buried deep, deep inside her, the sounds of her wetness slicking his member echoing the walls. Within a few particularly lewd, unaltered thrusts, she screams his name, gasping, holding onto his biceps lifelessly as he quickens his pace, his own release not far behind.

He slams, harder, and harder, channeling an animalistic pace to her core, a rhythm of lust drunk pleasure imploring each inch of his body as he still deep, deep inside her pussy, spurting thick streams of sticky, glossing white cum into the dainty condom he’d worn. He stills for a moment, neither of them speaking; heaving sighs and rapid breaths as they come down from their highs, her limbs still securely wrapped around his frame. A joint euphoria; a paradise they’d created together. A creamy mixture of their releases drips to the satin sheets below, although John ceases to care.

Right now, in this moment, he finds himself truly, wholly

relieved.

He’d gone so long, so distant without sex. Without human touch, connection. With his cock still sheathed inside her warm harbour, he sighs, relishing even in the feel of her holding him.

And a moment passes, then another; and another. With his weight rested on shaky palms to the bed sheets on either side of her, John sighs, panting, watching the way she swallows a lump in her throat; beads of vapour dotted to her glistening skin.

Gorgeous, he thinks.

She’s got those pretty eyes, satin skin. She felt surreal. He’d seen the stars buried inside her.

Slow and steady, John moves, allowing his flaccid member to slip out her warm hold. The sun has fully set, and the moonlight barely filters in through the slits of opaque curtains. With a towel retrieved, one he’d set aside prior to their session beside the bedframe, he finds place back, next to her worn out frame.

John had fucked her so good, so hard, she’d worn her legs may just give out in any attempt of rising on her feet. Relishing, sunken into the mattress as she watches him move calm, collected, the feel of John cleaning what he’s left behind off her womanhood causes the softest of blush to intrude, peppering her skin. With the condom discard, John’s hoarse voice rasps, breaking the still of long endured silence. “You’re alright?” He probes, watching the way she sits up on the bed, the threads of the duvet he’d spent countless nights burrowed in alone fixed in her grip, pulling it over her bare breasts, covering herself from his chocolate gaze.

She’s shyer now than before, after sex bliss stippled over her skin, her pussy sore from the action. The emptiness John had left ached. She’d be reminded of the mysterious man with painted skin for days;

prompted by what story his back really told.

What intrigued her so much, about the man who’d taken her in the filthiest of ways.

“Did I hurt you?” He inquires, and she’d sworn the way he looks at her…the way his eyes glaze over her features, as if watching so intently her every move, a symphony flows inside her, coursing that acquainted boil in her stomach. Nodding her head, no, she watches him pull on a pair of long forgotten boxers, opting himself a seat to the edge of the bed as she stays put. Despite having just had had sex with him, she finds herself nervous to be exposed to his eyes again; a dire side effect of the toll his handsomeness had truly taken on her.

She finds herself, tense. Intimidated by his grandeur.

A story writes itself, a tale that brews in the depth of their minds. Racing a mile a minute, he’d known. And perhaps she had too; that the sex had been far too good.

Dangerously good.

The words brew on the tip of his tongue, yet he finds himself cautious of their release. Would he be awful for thinking these thoughts? Was he soiling her, tainting her for his selfish needs, thinking of the dirtiest fate he could try her; propose to her before she’d be gone.

A fuck this good doesn’t come easy, and John wasn’t looking for romance. Love was something he’d forgotten a long time ago, wasn’t sure he’d been worthy of such a thing.

;yet he’d found her. Someone who could take care of his physical needs; someone he could use for that intimacy he too, direly needed. Had lacked for years, finally tasting it, within her.

The way she felt was something John would find himself struggling to forget. The warm, wet, deliciously slick feel of her welcoming cunt; John hadn’t had someone as good as her. She’d ruined it for him. Nothing had compared. No one had taken care of his cock the way she’d done in a meagre 30 minutes.

He’d request. He’d propose. He’d bargain her an even exchange.

With a gruff crisp in his throat, his guttural voice catches her by surprise. Under the duvet, her naked skin flushes to a warm, temperate ease. Fulfilled, relaxed, riding high on sex satisfied clouds, tingles still felt within each snapping nerve of her skin. His tone is calm, collected; upheld with dominance.

She delighted in his dominance. “I want to offer you.” He begins, a hand placed on his bare thigh. “A contract. For your services.”

Services. Bold of him to assume, this was something she’d planned on doing for more men. “An offer…?” Her tongue seeps, the words a quiet, barrel mumble to his proposition. In the barely lit room, her inquisitive eyes glow; a familiar glow to the way they’d shone, glossy. When his cock had been rammed deep down her tight throat.

“A contract.” He repeats, professionally. “I want you. Again.” His tone finds a quiver building within her core, her thighs longing to be wrapped around his waist, the way they dripped control, power. “I’ll pay you, generously.” He nods, eyebrows raised, a gaze to her smaller body buried in his sheets. “But when I need you, you come. No questions, no excuses.” He adds, studying her form, the way her brows furrow, lost in the aftermath of his words.

“You’ll be mine to use. For the duration of the contract.”

His. She could be

his.

Racing a mile, a minute, her thoughts haze, the rush of adrenaline, the weight of his proposition thick in a fog on her brain. Her senses tense, her thoughts freeze. The sight of him catches her lost.

His. To belong to the man, with the muscled back and bold tinted ink. The man who’d fucked her pornographically. Her cluster of deliberations interrupts with his thick voice, velvety, rich. “I’ll let you sit on it.” He offers, standing, the crisp white dress shirt he’d peeled off his frame earlier back in his sturdy grip as he drapes it on. “I need to take care of some business with the manager. I’ll be back within the hour.” Buttoning the top, coffee hued locks curtain his face, his perfectly groomed beard in perfect contrast with the lighter fabric; the bulge of his toned arms protruding at the textile. “And when I’m back,

I’ll be expecting another round.

Have yourself ready, please.”

And with those piercing words, he dresses himself, leaving her bare, exposed, in his bed.

A promise to come back for more left behind.

A demand, for more when he’d be back.

John wasn’t looking for love. John made it clear. This was physical. Something to quench his every longing need.

The ring of the door shut, the buzzing New York traffic below. She sits, decision tense on her mind.

John Wick, was her first.

And he, wanted her to be his last.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

part 2

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#john wick x reader #keanu reeves x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick x you

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shijiujun · 4 years

Text

Time for some BL/Danmei novel recs!

You guys have probably (maybe) seen my novels list here - [X] - but it’s more for my own tracking than anything else, so here’s a brief list (I’ll probably do full ones of the ones I really love in another post, probably on Minmo).

The ones elaborated on below with the asterisks are the novels I’ve actually finished reading.

*since everyone more or less knows MXTX’s works - TGCF, MDZS and SVSSS, I’ll skip those!

1. SCI 迷案集 | SCI Mystery Series by 耳雅*

Summary: Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao are childhood friends and rivals that end up working together under the newly established SCI unit as co-leads, with Bai Yutang providing the brawn as Captain and Zhan Zhao the brains as Vice Captain and the team’s resident genius psychologist. They solve cases together and slowly unravel a wider conspiracy that involves their parents’ generation and beyond. At the same time they also realize that they’re meant for each other!

Other CPs: Bai Jintang (Bai Yutang’s older brother) & the medical examiner, Gongsun Ce, Bai Chi (Bai Yutang’s younger cousin) & magician Zhao Zhen, and at least three other gay pairings, one of which is considered another main couple of sorts from Vol. 2 onwards

Status: Incomplete (Began in 2010, author is still going on strong with one chapter every one or two months, we’re halfway through Vol. 5 right now and it’s been 10 years ;-; Love that the author is going on strong!! Everyone on JJWXC are like “please author it’s okay if you go slow as long as you keep going we’re here for you” and jfc I understand the fear of this not completing, also when will Vol. 5 be completed and printed?!! I need to complete the collection)

Translations: Unfortunately, only the first volume has been translated well so far on novel updates. The one on Wattpad seems to have caught up, but I would not recommend that one.

Drama/Live-Action: Season 1 was filmed and released in 2018 under the same name with slightly changed names for the characters. Season 2 was supposed to start filming this month but... oh well. First season basically covered Vol. 1 novel from start to end.

*I love this one only because it was my very first danmei and so it’ll forever have a special place in my heart, and also because it’s still ongoing so ya know, I relive how much I love this every month

2. 成化十四年 | Cheng Hua’s Fourteenth Year (The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty) by 梦溪石*

Summary: Tang Fan, a prefectural judge, and Sui Zhou, a high ranking officer in the Embroidered Uniform Guards, meet while trying to solve a murder case. Both of them end up partnering very well together, Sui Zhou ends up inviting Tang Fan to live with him, and the rest is history. Through their days living together and solving cases + a larger conspiracy involving the royal palace, they fall in love. Adding to this mix is also Wang Zhi, a powerful, young eunuch who befriends the pair, and the three of them basically help the crown prince to overcome challenges and his enemies to become the next Emperor

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Ongoing on several websites. I’m only translating relationship highlights, but here’s an introduction post I did for it, if you guys would like somewhere to start without getting too invested - [X]

Drama/Live-Action: The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty was released earlier this year, directed by Jackie Chan and starring Darren Chen and Paul Fu, but cases are a little different and there are new characters in the show that weren’t from the novel etc.

3. 杀破狼 | Shapolang by Priest*

Summary: Set in a steampunk universe where flying boats named ‘kites’ and flying armour exist. Young teenager Chang Geng lives with his mother and stepfather - the former abuses him and the latter neglects him, and the only person that he cares about (and cares about him) is Shen Shiliu, his (very young) godfather. He realizes his identity as a royal prince when the Man tribe invades his city and Shen Shiliu, whose real name is Gu Yun, turns out to be an army general whose duty was to protect Chang Geng in secret (among other things).

Chang Geng has been critically poisoned by his mother (who’s not actually his birth mother, if I recall she’s an aunt) which leads to him getting terrible dreams frequently with the end result of him being driven into insanity, while Gu Yun is half blind, half deaf due to poisoning + injury when he was much younger, and he can only regain his hearing and sight fully when he takes a medicine that is slowly losing its effectiveness with every dosage he has.

The both of them navigate learning about each other again, falling in love a few years later when Chang Geng is all grown up and also unravel conspiracies and fight bad guys (both external threats and internal as in the current Emperor and other parties) XD

*Note: The age old debate is that Gu Yun ‘preyed’ on and also ‘groomed’ Chang Geng, but I disagree and stand by the fact that Gu Yun was 90% of the time not around while Chang Geng grew from a teenager to a young adult as he was fighting wars elsewhere, while Chang Geng refused to stay at the Gu manor and insisted on running around, travelling on his own and seeing the world for a few years before they met again. And it was Chang Geng who’d always loved Gu Yun and devoted himself to caring about him, making advances on him etc. when he became an adult

Other CPs: Shen Yi (Gu Yun’s second-in-command) & Chen Qingxu (a renowned physician who ends up healing both Chang Geng and Gu Yun of their ailments)

Status: Complete!

Translations: Fully translated the last I heard, it’s up there in the list of holy grail BL/danmei novels, so I’m sure it’s done hahaha.

Drama/Live-Action: Filming in progress!

*This is up there in the hall of fame for danmei novels for more than just the amazing content and writing - It’s also famous for being one of the most complex novels ever. I don’t know how the translations team did it because DAMN it was complex and I read all my novels in Chinese without much issues but I was honestly STRUGGLING WITH this one and I went through some existential crisis while reading because I was like ‘did I ever learn Chinese, am I even Chinese’ XD

4. 默读 | Silent Reading by Priest*

Summary: Luo Wenzhou, a police captain, and his team including best friend and partner Tao Ran, face a few challenging cases that end up being small parts of a larger conspiracy, and end up having to consult with Fei Du, a flamboyant, charming and flirty, young and rich CEO, who Luo Wenzhou describes as someone who is an expert at ‘crimes’. Not deduction, not solving crimes, but someone who is familiar with how the murderer or culprits would commit crimes. Both Luo Wenzhou and Tao Ran know Fei Du well, because they first met when Fei Du was in high school, when he called the police because his mother had hanged herself in the house, and since then Tao Ran and Luo Wenzhou look out for him, spending holidays with him, giving him presents here and there. Luo Wenzhou and Fei Du overcome their misunderstandings of each other and fall in love while solving all the cases and the larger conspiracy behind it.

Other CPs: Tao Ran and someone he knew first from his school days or was a neighbour when he was younger, I can’t remember, but they meet again at a blind date and end up living in the same building on different floors XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: Complete!! There’s a huge post floating around on Tumblr with all the links (I can’t find it right now) and on Twitter you can also find the collated, epub versions etc.

Drama/Live-Action: Rights for a live-action was signed, no casting confirmation or set dates yet

5. 犯罪心理 | Criminal Psychology by 长洱*

Summary: Police captain Xing Conglian drags psychologist Lin Chen out of seclusion/hiding to solve a case that is indirectly tied to him. Lin Chen was involved in a case a few years ago that led to four deaths - these four victims were the sons/daughters of four of the five huge old-money (super rich) families in the country and these family members sought to make Lin Chen’s life very difficult for him afterwards by making him lose all the jobs he can find, by surveilling his every move and ensuring that he’s not happy etc. Because of that, he backed out of the police force as well and quietly lived as a school dorm administrator, which is where Xing Conglian finds him a few years later. Lin Chen fakes his death after the first case (not deliberately but kind of a by-the-way thing), but as fate would have it, he ends up meeting Xing Conglian on another case, and he decides that he’ll move in with him and also involve himself again, consequences be damned, and they fall in love!

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet.

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of.

6. 死亡万花筒 | Kaleidoscope of Death by 西子绪* (MY ABSOLUTE FAVOURITE)

Summary: Supernatural setting where people who are about to die get a second chance to live. These individuals are either in the midst of a dangerous situation (for e.g. a shootout or a deadly mugging incident) or are about to get into accidents (for e.g. an entire bus going off a bridge or a chandelier dropping from above and crushing the person underneath) or are ill (recently diagnosed with cancer or are terminally ill with a condition for e.g.) - The list is endless, and in the situation between life and death, 12 doors will appear before them.

It is said that once these individuals finish all 12 doors, they will truly get a second chance at life and survive whatever cause of death they were imminently facing.

Each door represents a creepy, supernatural mystery, and Lin Qiushi finds himself in a strange place after opening a door when he was trying to enter his apartment one day. He meets Ruan Baijie, a beautiful, tall woman who he happens to meet, and they realize that in this strange world, he and other individuals who came through the door have to complete a given task, find a key and an exit door, and make it out alive. The others in the team (some of which have already gone through several doors) explain to Lin Qiushi, who is a first-timer, what the doors are about.

The catch is, if they die inside the door, in the real world, they’ll die immediately, by accident, throwing themselves off a building, or just throwing up blood until they die (just to name a few)

On the first night, however, three people are slaughtered and eaten by a long-haired ghost/creature. The good news is, Ruan Baijie isn’t all that she seems to be (for one, she’s not exactly a woman) and she takes a liking to Lin Qiushi immediately.

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet!

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of, but honestly, this novel would be fricking EPIC as a live-action, and really creepy, but this is my all-time favourite novel, I kid you not!!!!

*I’m definitely doing a longer and more detailed to-read for KOD on my translation account, gosh you guys have no idea how much I love this.

7. 当年万里觅封侯 | Those Years in Quest of Honor Mine by 漫漫何其多

Summary: Yu She and Gu Wan were close friends for a short period of time when they were younger, but unfortunately their identities and positions meant that they were opponents. Yu She’s family was for the Second Prince and Gu Wan was taken in by the Sixth Prince’s family, but in the end it was the Second Prince who ended up getting to the throne, while the Sixth Prince was accused of treason and died somewhere far away at war after being captured. Gu Wan’s only wish was to keep the Fifth Prince’s children - Xuan Rui and a pair of twins, Xuan Yu and Xuan Congxin safe, and so he moves them to another province and asks the Emperor (the Second Prince) to demote Xuan Rui’s status to prove that they are no threat to the Emperor, if only to stay alive for another day.

However, their days of hardship have only just begun, and Gu Wan decides to namedrop Yu She, whose family is so powerful now, and claims that Yu She loves him and that he was wooing Gu Wan back in the days they knew each other so that officials and others would treat the children under his care better. A few years pass and Yu She doesn’t expose Gu Wan. Gu Wan thinks they can go on like this forever, until the Emperor asks Xuan Rui and the twins to head back to the palace for a visit.

Gu Wan meets Yu She again, but the boy he knew, who was gentle, a stickler for rules and a proper, well-mannered person, has changed almost completely. Cue palace conspiracies again, brothers fighting for the throne, scheming consorts etc. XD

Other CPs: None XD

Status: Complete!

Translations: I think it’s not complete yet but I’m not super sure on this

Drama/Live-Action: None that I know of!

*They came out with a new reprint edition three days ago and it’s gorgeous! And comes with amazing freebies, and I am a sucker and read it on the day of the printed novel release because I saw the art and loved it, wanted to see if the story was any good, and damn after chapter 2 I WAS GONE and then I checked out two copies from different stores for the two different sets of freebies

A list of those I haven’t read but I see are highly raved about:

1. 二哈和他的白猫师尊 | The Husky & His White Cat Shizun by Meatbun

- I’ve already been spoiled and I know what goes on mostly, and there are a lot of warnings for a reason, but I’m still a fan, and let’s not get into the debate on the content, I know I have to read this but the angst level is apparently ridiculous, so I need like some mental preparation before I sit down for it.

2. 千秋 | A Thousand Autumns by 梦溪石

3. 烈火浇愁 | Lie Huo Jiao Chou by Priest

4. 将进酒 | Qiang Jing Jiu by 唐酒卿

- A really good group of translators picked this up initially on Twitter, but then assholes were complaining that they were being too slow and insisting that machine translation (MTL) did an equally good and faster job, so the OG dropped it, and then another nice team picked it up, but MTL team is still being an asshole XD I’ve heard really good things about this one, it’s apparently quite complex as well, I’d liken it to Shapolang level? But it might be even more complex (with a lot of politics and stuff), so much so that apparently the printed novel comes with a relationship/character chart so readers are at any point in time clear on the characters which is like amazing XD

#danmei #bl novels #novel recs #sci谜案集 #kaleidoscope of death #silent reading #shapolang #犯罪心理 #成化十四年 #the sleuth of ming dynasty #2ha #priest #梦溪石 #meatbun #西子绪 #耳雅 #长洱

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middleearthpixie · 3 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye ~ Chapter Forty

Summary: The wedding of King Thorin II and Arielle Farran has finally arrived…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Arielle (Elen) Farran (female OC)

Characters: Arielle, Thorin, and pretty much everyone,

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,898

Khuzdal Translation: Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul - I will love you forever

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames

Previous chapters can be found here and on AO3

For the wedding of King Thorin II Oakenshield and Arielle Farran, the Throne Room of Erebor had been transformed from a dank, dusty, work in progress, to a warm and welcoming chamber awash in golden candlelight and the stone walls draped with bunting of royal blue, purple, white, and pink. A long white runner had been unrolled along the main aisle and all around, white chairs decorated with bows of blue, purple, white, and pink had been set up for the guests.

Thorin paced the small room back behind the throne itself, simmering with restless energy that he almost could not contain. It reminded him of the way his entire body hummed as the dwarves stood at the gates of Moria, facing off against the orc army led by Azog the Defiler. Only then, he felt hints of fear mingling in with the restless energy.

He felt no fear this time.

Well, not much, anyway.

“Do I look all right?” He aimed this at Dwalin, his lieutenant, his second, who served in a role Elen called best man. At first the term made little sense to Thorin. How could one man be the best one of all his trusted friends? But when Elen explained the role, and how it meant the one man the groom felt he could trust above all others, Thorin knew it was Dwalin. Dwalin was the rock when Thorin needed one the most, and so there really was no decision to make.

At least, he hadn’t thought so until Dwalin lifted one brow and growled, “How many times ye going ta ask me that already? Ye look fine. And ye sound like yer sister, ye know.”

“You’d best not let Dis hear you say that,” Thorin warned, folding his arms as he leveled a long look at him. “Humor me, won’t you? I’d rather Arielle not be embarrassed by me today.”

“Ye look fine. Ye look… ye look like a king, laddie. I think your lady will be proud to be seen on your arm.”

“My lady…” Thorin couldn’t help the foolish smile that kept pulling at his lips. Mahal help him, he felt almost giddy, and that was one of the most foreign things he’d ever felt. In a short while, Arielle would truly be his for the rest of their days. He would be hers.

And they would soon have their baby.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Thank you.

Elen poked his head into the chamber and while Thorin couldn’t be entirely positive, he’d swear Elen breathed a sigh of relief, as if he’d expected to find the chamber empty. “Have you seen Arielle?”

Thorin’s gut kinked. “You told me I couldn’t see her before the ceremony, Elen. Have you lost her?”

“What? No!” Elen stepped into the room completely, closing the door behind him. “No, of course I haven’t lost her. That would be silly, really. It’s simply that I’m afraid I cannot exactly find her at the moment and I know it’s because she’s a bit on the nervous side—all those people staring at her is making her a bit uncomfortable and she never likes to draw attention to herself, even when she can’t help but draw attention to herself and I’ve seen her in her gown and Thorin, you will not believe your eyes when you see her, but of course you haven’t seen her yet and that is a good thing because—”

“Elen!” Thorin and Dwalin bellowed in unison, loud enough that Elen actually jumped.

“Oh, sorry.” Elen cupped a hand over his mouth for a minute, regained his composure, and let it fall away as he added, “I think she simply went for a walk. She does that when she needs calm. I saw her earlier and she looks stunning, Thorin. You will not believe your eyes.”

To Thorin’s surprise, butterflies seemed to take flight in his belly. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not necessarily uncomfortable even if they made thinking a bit difficult. “I cannot imagine a time when I will be able to believe them,” he said softly to no-one in particular.

Dwalin’s hand came down upon his shoulder. “Yer a lucky man, Thorin. Remember that.”

“It’s not something I’m likely to forget,” Thorin replied, looking from Dwalin to Elen. “What brings you here, then?”

“I just wanted to… that is, I thought I should… well… If our father were here—Arielle’s and mine, I mean, or perhaps yours would, too, I’ve know way of knowing—he’d have brought this to share with you and welcome you to the family.” As he spoke, Elen withdrew a small bottle from the velvet bag in his hand. “My mother had two bottles, one for each of us, to be opened on this occasion.”

Dwalin eyed the bottle. “What is it?”

“Elven whiskey. I always wondered why she kept them, since our Elven father just up and left us, but now, I’m rather glad she did, for I would like to carry on the tradition.” He looked at Thorin and smiled. “I’d like to welcome you into our family, pathetically small though it is.”

Thorin returned the smile, clapping his hand about Elen’s shoulder. “Thank you. It matters not how small or large a family is, I am honored you consider me part of it.”

Elen set the bottle on the small table under the flickering sconce and made a face. “However, I’ve forgotten the bloody glasses.”

“We can drink from the bottle.” Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who rolled his eyes and gave a little shake of his head. “It will be fine.

Cork squeaked as Elen wrestled it free, only spilling a hint of whiskey in the process. He held up the small, cobalt blue bottle and said, “I did not wish to like you, you know. I blamed you for the ruin that befell my family last winter when you returned here. But I see how my sister looks at you, and how you look at her, and I know she is happy with you. Take care of her, Thorin. Love her the way she deserves to be loved. And above all else, do not ever hurt her.”

“You have my word, Elen.”

Elen held his stare easily, then lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink. Thorin bit back a chuckle as Elen’s face practically turned inside out and he let out a breathless, “Phew!” as he passed the bottle.

“Are ye all right, laddie?” Dwalin came around to club Elen across the back hard enough to send him stumbling into the table.

“I’m f—fine,” Elen breathed, his face going red. “It’s just… well… it’s rather strong whiskey, is all. And please, for the love of Mahal, do not hit me again.”

Thorin took the bottle and took a swallow. It burned like fire all the way down his throat, hit his belly, and erupted into a fireball on par with anything Smaug could dish out. Fortunately, he was able to hold back his reaction to it as he passed the bottle to Dwalin, whose entire head went red with his first sip.

They passed it around a second time and Thorin felt some of the butterflies slow their beating wings. Good. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself by gushing like a simp before their guests and Bard the bowman. Fortunately, Elen finished off the tiny bottle, and it was probably for the best, although Dwalin had to help him to the lone chair in the room when Elen suddenly reeled to his left.

“Are ye going to be able to find yer seat, laddie?” Dwalin grabbed the back of Elen’s trousers to hold him up.

“I—I might need s—s—shum help… thish room ish shpinning,” Elen slurred, waving one hand in a loose circle as he spoke.

Thorin sighed. “Dwalin, give him shum help, if you would.”

“On it.” Dwalin grumbled as he half-walked, half-dragged Elen from the chamber. Hopefully, by the time Arielle appeared, Elen would have sobered up some. He didn’t want her angry with her brother today.

“Thorin?”

He whipped about at the sound of Dis’ voice. “I thought you were Arielle for a moment.”

She let out a soft chuckle. “I won’t tell her you said that.” She closed the door as she came into the chamber. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Elen is drunk on two mouthfuls of Elvish whiskey, but I’m fine.”

She tucked her arm through his. “I have to admit, Thorin, I wasn’t at all certain this day would come.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? You never showed any interest in any woman until you met Arielle. And I thought at one point Belle Caisys was definitely going to be the one to spark your interest.”

He couldn’t hold back his grimace as he pulled free from her and faced her. “Why?”

“Well, she’s beautiful and back in Ered Luin, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand.”

“I’m not them.”

“Don’t I know it.” She sank into the lone chair. “But, you seem so happy now, Thorin. Content. It’s… it’s a nice thing to see.”

“I am happy.” He leaned back against the stone wall and gazed down at her. “I’ve never felt the way I do now, Dis. It’s as if everything that happened up to this point, did so in order to bring me to this point. That I had to go through all of that, so I could appreciate this moment now.”

“The Fates knew what they were doing, I suppose.” She smiled up at him. “But, will you allow yourself to be happy going forward?”

“It isn’t in my nature,” he said softly, meeting her gaze. “You know that.”

“I know, but at the same time, you’re beginning this new life, Thorin. The dark days are behind you and one day you and Arielle will have a family of your own, and you should enjoy that as well.”

“We’re going to have our family this summer, Dis.” He smiled. “Arielle told me last eve, apparently she was carrying twins and lost only one.”

“She did? You are?” Dis’ face lit up like a proud mother as she rose from the chair and came over to slip her arms about his waist. “That’s wonderful news, Thorin. I am so very thrilled for you both.”

“Thank you, but don’t tell Arielle I told you. She will kill me if she finds out. We’re going to tell everyone later this evening.”

“My lips are sealed, but I think it is wonderful and I look so very forward to meeting your little one.”

“That makes two of us.”

Dwalin poked his head in. “If ye old women are ready, the bowman is here and he said it’s time.”

The butterflies returned with a fury to Thorin’s gut. He swallowed hard. “Do I look all right?”

Dwalin groaned, but Dis stepped up and smoothed a hand down the lapels of his dark blue robe. “You look fine, Thorin. Let’s go.”

He nodded and followed Dwalin out into the Throne Room, where a sea of wedding guests awaited him. Bard the Bowman, the new Master of Dale, smiled as he bobbed his head and said, “It’s good to see you again, Thorin.”

“Likewise, Bard.”

He turned to the sea of faces, and a moment later, a flutter of white in the distance caught his eye. His heart actually skipped a beat and his mouth went dry as Arielle appeared at the far end of the runner. For the first time in his life, he was utterly dumbstruck as he took in the vision of her in a flowing white gown, her hair in loose curls spilling over her bared shoulders, tumbling down her back. The tiara nestled in those dark curls sparkled as brightly as the stars in the night sky. In her hands, she held an elaborate bouquet of pink and purple tulips, festooned with ivy and baby’s breath and tied in silk ribbons of pink and purple, and as she glided toward him, his eyes filled with tears at the sight.

He’d never seen a woman more beautiful than his Arielle.

She smiled and when she winked, he couldn’t help but chuckle and winked back, his heart beating faster than it ever had before with every step she took that brought her closer to him. And when she finally stood beside him, he was certain his heart ceased to beat entirely.

“You are staring, dwarf,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling even more brightly than her tiara.

“I cannot help myself,” he growled back, “for you are a beyond beautiful and I am a lucky man, to call you mine.”

“Good answer.”

“I thought you’d approve.”

Bard cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome this morning to Erebor, where we will celebrate the marriage of King Thorin II and Arielle Farran…”

Arielle couldn’t help but stare as she and Thorin recited the vows that would bind their lives together for eternity. She could honestly say she’d never seen him look more handsome than he did right then and there, in black trousers, a blue tunic embroidered with dark green and gold thread, and a robe of deep blue, also embellished with gold and silver designs she thought might actually be khuzdal runes woven into the fabric. His hair fell in long, loose waves, the candlelight dancing along the silver streaks, and the braids on either side of his head looked as if they’d been combed out and re-plaited, for they were smooth and shiny. He looked utterly regal.

Her king.

But what struck her was how bright and blue his eyes were. Bright. Blue. Shiny.

“I’m teasing you,” Elen nudged her this time, then draped his arm about her shoulders, “and you know it. Have you seen the way he looks at you? You could actually have a shrub on your head and he’d still stare at you like a lovesick boy.”

“You’re insane. Thorin does not look at me that way.”

“Oh, but he does, big sister. You simply don’t see it, but I most definitely did. And last eve, when Alfryd opened his stupid mouth, I thought Thorin was going to knock his head clean from his shoulders. And truth be told, I rather wish he had.”

“I still think you’re mad.”

“Just you wait… at some point tonight, when he thinks you aren’t looking at him, he will just stare you, almost like he’s dazed, and I promise you, his expression suggests he cannot believe you are there with him.”

That was how he gazed upon her now. Elen was right.

Finally, Thorin slid a slender gold ring onto her fourth finger, which fit flush against the mithril ring he’d given her. In turn, she eased a heavier gold band onto his far thicker finger, and the Bard smiled as he said, “I now pronounce you, Thorin, and you, Arielle, man and wife. Thorin, you may now kiss your bride.”

Arielle smiled as Thorin slid an arm about her waist and pulled her flush against him, bent her back ever so slightly, and captured her lips with his in a soft, slow, deep kiss that had everyone in the throne room burst into applause and had Bard chuckling behind them.

Thorin broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against hers as he murmured, “You are mine now, mesmel. Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul.”

“I do like how that sounds, dwarf,” she replied. “Zamaralmizi hikhthuzul.”

The celebration that followed normally would have been held in the Great Hall, but the sheer number of guests made that impossible, so large white tents had been erected out on the plains, which were finally beginning to heal from the scarring leftover by the Battle of the Five Armies nearly a year earlier.

After the ceremony, after the guests were all ushered out to those tents, Thorin and Arielle made their first public appearance with Bard introducing them as, “Their Highnesses, King Thorin II and Queen Arielle of Erebor,” to much applause and shouting.

Arielle was certain she’d never seen Thorin smile as much as he did then, when he whisked her out into the middle of the dance floor and drew her flush against him. The music was slow and beautiful, a far cry from what the dwarves usually had at their celebrations and as she slid her arms about Thorin’s neck, Arielle couldn’t help but smile herself.

“Maralmizu,” she said, letting her fingers thread through his hair, letting them dance along the nape of his neck.

His own fingers weren’t still, but swept lightly over the small of her back, down over her backside and up again and his eyes were softer than the blue skies above. “Maralmizi, givashel.”

“You look so very happy, you know. Tell me how I can make certain you always look this way,” she murmured.

“Just be where I can always reach you, mesmel. Whether by touch or by voice.”

“I will. I promise.”

“As will I.”

Little by little, other couples joined them, and even as the music grew faster, Thorin did not let go of her, nor did he speed up at all, but seemed perfectly content to just sway with her in his arms. And that was just fine with her.

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #AUJ #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU #Is it hot in here?#Woman in Disguise

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selfships-in-spanish · 3 years

Text

The Queen of Demons 4/?

Pairing: Erwin Smith x OC, Levi Ackerman x OC

Rating: Mature (the rating will go up as the story advances! But it will totally be explicit ;D I even have some smut chapters already half written woooo! But right now just in case)

Warnings: None for now, but sexist and misogynist upbringing (Eva's father is a huge asshole).

Word Count: 8885

ALSO POSTED ON AO3

A/N: FUCKING FINALLY. I was so stuck and had a severe writer's block, but here it is! Part 4! I feel like my writing went down a bit but I hope to make up for it on the next one. Finished, not perfect! I hope you enjoy this one and were we can see a bit more of the vets and the 104 kids ôô

CHAPTER 4: WINTER BLOOM

The pale morning rays of sunlight woke the Princess up, mumbling and turning to her side. Eva heard the distant chirps of birds flying by, as well as the sounds of the village being already busy. The neighing of horses, carts being pulled around, setting up the shops, the rooster screeching…

Wait.

That’s not what she usually woke up to.

Back home she only heard the birds and some maids, especially Flora when she would come barging in and opening the thick curtains of her windows, letting the sun hit right in Princess’ face as she knew how much Eva despised being woken up like this, hollering: “What–”

“–A great morning this is, your Royal Sleepy Highness!”

Ah, there she was.

Eva attempted a reply but curled up further into the duvet and blankets.

“Oh c’mon, Princess! We’ve got a busy day today! Lots of exciting things!”

“Exciting for you.” Eva mumbled covering her head with the thick bedding.

Flora snorted, rolling her eyes. Without any kind of remorse, Flora grabbed the end of the duvet and blankets and unceremoniously pulled them off the Princess, enjoying the irritated groan she let out as Eva tried to blindly find something to cover herself with.

“Rise and shine!” Flora said in a singsong, stepping out of the Princess’ reach as she tried to kick her leg.

“How can you be so happy and chirpy so early in the morning?” Eva gave up, sighing and rolling out of the oddly comfortable bed; Eva fell asleep earlier than she anticipated.

“Oh, spare me the dramatics! We gotta get you to eat breakfast and prepare you for—“

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, sure thing Princess, as if you don’t gobble up like a duck when you are nervous.” Flora handed Eva her robe, guiding her to the bathroom where a basin already filled with water and a cloth awaited her.

Once her morning routine finished, Eva padded to the living room where breakfast had been already served. It smelled heavenly.

“I don’t gobble like a duck.” Eva sat down, huffing displeased.

The Princess served herself some warm bread, eyeing the jams and butter with a watering mouth. Flora set a steaming cup next to her before sitting down in front of the Princess.

“Sorry, not coffee yet.”

Eva sighed.

The Princess cut some more bread for her handmaiden, sharing the spreading knife after she was done with it. On the first bite Eva hummed, satisfied with the taste and texture. Freshly baked bread was the absolute best. Flora leisurely poured sugar over the butter, her smile widening at the sugary mess. Eva frowned, chewing.

“It’s still a wonder how your teeth haven’t rotten out yet.”

“Ah, family thing for sure!” Flora took a heartly bite of the sweet monstrosity in her hands. “Gramps still has his teeth intact and covers everything in sugar when he gets his hands on some.”

Eva’s lips curled into a grimace.

“I love sweets but I don't think that is healthy.”

“You just don’t appreciate the flavour.”

“I sincerely doubt there’s any flavour left in that.” Eva nodded towards Flora’s loaf of bread.

The handmaid shrugged, biting down on it and making a show just to irk the Princess further. Eva exaggerated a gag which made Flora giggle.

Three knocks on the heavy wooden door announced the Eldians coming to pick her up. Eva sighed as she watched Flora stand up from the chair next to the Princess and walk to the door, opening it with a short bow and a smile. Eva sat straighter as the looming and bulky figures of the Eldian warriors came into her view, entering the lodgings provided temporarily for her and her handmaiden. They were the same as yesterday, the giant called Mike, the female warrior that caught her attention, Nanaba, and another man Eva couldn’t remember the name right now.

The three warriors bowed, Nanaba and the other warrior waiting right next to the open door as Mike approached her. The giant warrior waved to the door, the message of “you have to go outside” quite clear in his movements. His face did not give away any of his thoughts, keeping a neutral expression as he watched the Princess stand up and follow him, Flora right behind her with giddy steps.

Flora should have been born a Princess or a noble, her happy and open disposition towards everything and everyone would win anyone over, as well as the way she found happiness in the little things of life. How Eva wished she had Flora’s positive mindset.

“Alright, ready for your big day?” the handmaiden asked in hushed whispers, something both women mastered from years of court banquets.

“Of course not. I want to run right back inside.”

“You’re such a big—” Flora was cut off by Eva’s gasp.

Flora raised her eyes just in time to see the giant warrior leaning way too close to the Princess’ personal space and… sniff. The Princess had turned around, disbelief and stupefaction etched on her face at the nerve this big, brute man had to go sniffing people without… without their consent. Eva found it uncouth, impolite, and her cheeks blazed in indignation.

Mike leaned back, humming, pleased at something Eva wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Nanaba immediately chastised the big man, kicking his leg and nagging at him as he shrugged, crossing his arms and looking slightly guilty. At the scene unfolding right outside the house, people began to stop and watch, and Eva felt her blood run cold at the sound of the Chief’s laugh coming from down the stairs. Hans and Friederich were already there, and the youngest of the two brothers was about to march upstairs, his displeased frown deepening. The Chief nodded to Moblit, motioning him to rush to them and clear misunderstandings. Levi rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue.

“Your Highness, please accept our deepest apologies.” Moblit hastily bowed, an apologetic smile in his lips. “Mike here has this habit of… uh, sniffing people.”

“Is he implying I smell?” Eva’s mouth was pulled into a tight line. Flora did not spend as long as she did grooming her and using those soaps and perfumes Eva loved for this man to mock her handmaiden’s efforts. Besides, she kept her hygiene up to date, thank you very much.

“No! Not at all, Your Highness. Mike has a great and sharp sense of smell, like a… ah, what’s the name... ah, wolf! Like a wolf, and although I do concede that it may be considered rude, he just does it from force of habit.”

Eva raised her brow skeptically.

“He meant no disrespect, Your Highness. It’s his way to say that he uh… he welcomes you.” Moblit ventured a quick glance towards the man in question, muttering something as he almost imperceptibly nodded towards the Princess with wide impatient eyes.

Mike huffed, but muttered something back to Moblit in a deep voice. Next to him, Nanaba nodded, pleased.

“He apologises, Your Highness, and compliments you.” that piqued Eva’s curiosity. “He says you smell comforting, of lavender and honey. That’s something he appreciates, with his sharp sense of smell he can easily get overwhelmed by strong scents.”

“Ah, that must be troublesome.” Eva turned to face Mike and inclined her head. “My apologies for acting harshly.” But Eva still thought her response was totally justified. A warning beforehand would have been nice, and she still had her pride.

Mike answered with one curtly bow of his head of his own.

“Indeed.” Moblit decided the issue was resolved and lifted his arm towards the Chief and the Gottesreichan Princes, watching the whole ordeal with amused expressions sans Friederich. He still looked murderous. “Please, after you, Your Highness.”

That shocked Eva. Normally back at Gottesreich she would walk behind the men and respectfully listen to whoever was talking, and even after visiting other countries, that rule still applied, or maybe they weren’t willing to go against Gottesreich. Either way, Eva was taught to never disrespect its citizens and rulers when visiting foreign kingdoms from her brothers, and the Princess always willed herself to follow the Kingdom’s culture and customs out of respect, despite what her father said on more than one occasion. Her brothers taught her to be respectful, and she would not ignore them, and even less be an embarrassment for her brothers. Summoning with all her will a composed mask on her face, Eva dared to take the lead and walk down the snow covered stairs to where her brothers and Chief awaited. Flora walked right behind her, always keeping a watchful eye to her skirts and cloak, in case they may get in the way.

The crunching of her steps on the snow were deafening for the Princess. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch. She was used to having all eyes on her, from courts and dances and banquets, from nobles and princes trying to win her father’s good graces, but having the people of Eldia stop and observe every single move she was doing felt suffocating. One slip and she was probably doomed in their eyes.

Eva stopped right in front of the men, bowing respectfully.

“Good morning, my Lord. Brothers.” Moblit’s voice softly translated for the Chief, who didn’t take his eyes away from her the entire descent.

The Chief returned the greeting, bowing as well.

“I hope you had a pleasant sleep, your Highness.”

“I did. Thank you, my Lord.” Eva did not find the need to tell him how she tossed and turned around, her mind restless, musing over yesterday’s events –his touch– or how she missed her pillows back at the palace. The Chief seemed pleased, although there was a glint in his eyes that he most certainly caught the lie. Damn it.

“If there is anything we can offer to help you get settled and to further accommodate you, please do not hesitate to say so, your Highness. I understand it may be unpleasant being so far away from home and your people.” Eva was slightly taken aback at how the Chief seemed to be understanding of her situation, contrary to what she had heard and been told a husband would be once she married. The Princess didn’t want to let her hopes up in case the fall was to be harder than it would already be.

“Thank you for your consideration, my Lord. I will do so in case I need it.” Eva knew she wouldn’t say a thing, her stubbornness always playing against her favour.

The Chief seemed pleased enough with her answer. He turned slightly so he was facing the three Gottesreichan siblings, addressing the rest of the foreign party as well. Moblit translated for them all, and Flora managed to contain her excited hops when the Chief officially announced the start of their walk around the village.

Much to the Princess’ dismay, the Chief had offered up his right arm for her to hold on as they began the tour, an encouraging smile on his lips as if saying “go on, I will not harm you”. Eva had hoped her brothers would keep him distracted enough so she could trail behind and listen, observing her surroundings, but no such luck. It seemed like here in Eldia they weren’t as reticent of closeness as they were in Gottesreich, and women were treated differently.

The Chief was still as big and massive as the Princess remembered from yesterday’s banquet, thinking it was her own nerves and wine that exaggerated her memories, but the way her hands had trouble meeting on the Chief’s arm told her otherwise. The Eldian leader kept a slow pace, mindful of his companion and her shorter legs, as he began explaining their village and the way it was structured.

The Eldian architecture was entirely different from the one used in Gottesreich, as well as the distribution of the village itself. Where Eva was used to narrower streets with houses sharing walls, clustered, messy (although the closer to the castle, the better were planned the streets and districts), mossy cobblestones, puddles around the corners with barrels and wooden crates, the townspeople walking as merchants and shopkeepers yelled their offers to the passersby, pennants hanging from side to side of the streets with the Kingdom’s colours… Here in Eldia the streets were wider, the buildings lower in height which gave a sense of the town being less claustrophobic since you could easily see the scenery and the sky. Wooden fences, dark roofs made of slates, the streets made of the earth itself with grass heartily growing on both sides and wooden planks on the floor to help create a more visible path on certain parts, but one could clearly see the cart’s marks as well as the horses pulling them.

Although everything was covered in thick layers of snow, Eva had no doubts it would be a magnificent sight in spring, with the imposing mountains surrounding the village and the vast fields littered with the farmer’s homes composing a picture deserving of a painting. It was rurally beautiful. Different, more primitive, if she took into consideration her own Kingdom’s ways, but efficient. The Princess was sure this level of coordination would not be able to be achieved without years of honing this lifestyle, and it honestly intrigued her, her curiosity piqued. Eva hoped this curiosity and wonder for the novelty wouldn’t disappear quickly and would stay with her until her situation was more bearable, or grew accustomed to.

Moblit’s gentle voice guided the Gottesreichan guests through the Chief’s explanations, looking at the direction where the Chief pointed with his free hand while speaking, often stopping to further go into details about their dwellings, their storage facilities and barns, the marketplace with the villagers already busy with their daily chores. The town’s market was lively and uniquely beautiful, wooden stalls standing proud with all the goods on display. There was all kinds of variety, going from food to parchment and candles and clothes, to jewelry or tools for butchers or farmers.

The Princess’ heart thumped wildly on her chest, trying her hardest not to show her rising panic at the fact that she was walking around the village on the Chief’s arm, having everyone’s eyes on her as they kept their tour. The villagers stopped their chores midway to stare at them, whispering and chattering as they went through. Some respectfully greeted their Chieftain, mostly the warriors patrolling the streets doing a particular salute upon seeing them, but the villagers smiled and bowed, the children present doing the same as they tried to contain their laughs while not being able to keep their eyes off the scene in front of them. The Chief continued their walk after answering the greetings.

An excited giggle, followed by a shriek of what sounded like a name, startled the guests and their hosts, even. The Gottesreichan soldiers took a defensive stance, ready to pounce on the source of it as well as attack if necessary; their priority was defending the monarch's lives at any costs. Eva couldn’t help the scared jump her body did upon hearing the childish laugh and running steps on frozen ground getting nearer, gasping loudly in fear and tightly clutching the Chief’s arm with her tiny hands as she unconsciously leaned on him, seeking protection.

The Chief was ready to make her stand behind him and face the attacker, but stopped immediately upon seeing it was one of the children from before. The boy had rosy cheeks, the colour intensified by both the running and the cold, and probably the excitement too, and had a wide smile that was missing a few teeth. The kid was holding something in his hands, hidden behind his back, and with the eagerness of a child waiting for the exact moment an adult would pay them attention to show them what they got in their hands, the little boy almost shoved his possession to the Chieftain and the Princess.

Once he saw what the boy had in his hands, the Chief visibly relaxed, shoulders shaking in silent amusement at how a little kid got the best of them all. The Princess still looked uncertain, clutching and pressing herself into him. Eyes wide and breath a little bit short, Eva looked down at the kid’s hands. He was holding a… flower?

A flower in the middle of winter? How was that even possible?

The kid kept his eyes on the Princess, urging her to take his present with quick words and lifting his hands further up, his smile widening. Eva thought herself of a stupid fool. How could she have been scared of a child? What harm could he do? Unless… No, unless nothing. This was a little boy offering a flower, a beautiful one that Eva had never seen before. Father would not tarnish the good intentions of a child.

Upon not having, still, immediate response from the Princess, the kid hopped on his spot, irremediably making Eva show a timid smile; she could never resist a toothy grin and sparkling eyes.

One look at the mother told Eva how this was not planned and how the kid had ran off on his own volition. Everyone on the street stopped dead on their tracks and silently watched the exchange, not even daring to breathe. The mother’s wide eyes jumped from the Princess to the Chief, then to his child, not knowing if she should run and apologise to their guests or wait and have faith in their leader and his soon to be wife.

Eva understood quickly this was to be a decisive moment for her and her stay in Eldia. One wrong movement that led to misinterpretation could be beyond disastrous. She had to be good, she had to fulfill her duty and be a good wife and—

Eva took a deep breath. Focus. Don’t succumb into panic.

Fighting her burning cheeks out of her own embarrasment, Eva let go of her almost deadly grip on the Chief’s arm and faced the little boy alone. Keeping her smile on her lips, Eva approached the child with small steps, stopping right in front of him and elegantly folding her gloved hand on top of the other. The kid kept talking at a dizzying speed, and when he noticed how the Princess furrowed her brows in confusion, while still maintaining her smile, he understood not a word he was saying reached her.

Humming to himself while thinking hard, the kid’s face illuminated itself when an idea came to him. He hastily pointed to the flower and then to the Princess, practically shoving it in her hands. Eva looked down and then up at the kid, pointing at herself with a questioning look. The child nodded effusively, shoving the poor flower again.

Eva couldn’t help the soft chuckle upon his enthusiasm, never being able to resist a kid. The Princess took it, making sure to do a slightly exaggerated bow, lifting slightly the skirts and careful enough to not crumple the flower, so the little boy understood her gratitude. The kid happily ran back to his mother, skipping and laughing as he began talking at that incredible speed while his mother looked beyond relieved. Eva did a curtly bow to her too, trying to show the mother no offence of any kind was taken.

Returning to the Chief’s side, Eva brought the flower to her nose. She always did that whenever she came by one, out of habit, and was surprised by the faint but sweet fragrance it emitted. Eva would have to ask about them, knowing Gottesreich did not have any flowers blooming in winter.

Just when they were about to resume their walk, more excited giggles and shouts could be heard. Other children ran away from their mothers and fathers, holding the same flower in their tiny hands. Eva found herself surrounded by eager eyes and smiles, shoving their flowers up so the Princess would pick them up too. Some would tug at her cloak so she would pick theirs first, others jumping on their spot, other’s patiently waiting their turn as they marvelled on the fabric and embroidery of her pale blue winter dress.

The Princess ended up with a small bouquet of flowers, the children shouting and running happily back to their parents once they delivered their gifts. She did not know what to do with them now, and frantically looked at the Chief and her brothers, then to Flora when her siblings had confused expressions, for a clue. The Chieftain had an amused glint in his eyes, but half his mind was busy thinking about something. Finally, Flora took pity on her Princess and walked up to her with a smile on her lips.

“Let’s show off those gifts, shall we, your Highness?”

Flora expertly secured the flowers on the Princess’s up braid, the pure white and calm blue of the flowers an unexpected but welcome complement to the Princess’s own choice of wardrobe. Moblit later explained, upon inquiring about the flowers herself, that they were a special kind of flower that bloomed on their woods only during the cold season, earning the name of “winter miracle”. It also symbolized the welcoming of new people into their tribe, as its sister in the warmer weather.

Eva was touched, knowing not that those kids wanted to welcome her upon hearing she was to become one of them soon. The Princess only wished the adults would have the same feelings towards her.

Thankfully the walk around the village suffered no more incidents and surprises, and Eva was able to delight herself on the market and what it had to offer; she definitely had to go there often and take her sweet time. The quills looked absolutely exquisite, and those were the famous travelling books she heard so much about! Even the jeweller had a beautiful selection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces and rings that the Princess had no idea the Eldians were capable of such craftsmanship. She particularly liked the brooch with the silhouette of a bird resting on a golden branch, the gold of the bird expertly mixed with beautiful midnight blue gemstones, resembling feathers. Also the hairpins! They were absolutely marvelous. The jeweller himself was both pleased and proud that the Gottesreichan Princess liked his products.

Their next destination amazed and terrified the Gottesreichan guests.

Eldia’s military prowess was legendary, and right now, they had its base and core right in front of them. The training grounds were a massive expanse of terrain, with barracks, thoroughly used wooden dummies, racks full of well-cared training weapons of all kinds, archery ranges, horse-riding training fields… and each and every single space was filled to the brim with warriors and trainees.

It was frightening to see how Eldia’s army was composed of perfectly trained warriors with wide expertise in the arts of combat. Not a movement wasted, not a single error in the placement of their feet to maintain balance. Strength, power, endurance, knowledge— every skill needed to become a perfect warrior, it was taught here in the massive training fields.

The Chief walked them right through the training grounds, nodding towards the warriors and fresh trainees who ceremoniously saluted him and the entourage he was leading. It was the same salute the Gottesreichan guests had seen in their entire walk around the unexpectedly gigantic village: right hand closed in a fist over their hearts, left hand on the back, and a proud stance full of tenacity and devotion. The newest recruits surprised the royal siblings, full of young faces who couldn’t be older than 15, but with a fierce determination to learn and to prove themselves. All sizes, shapes and forms– if you were up to it, were ready to go through an intense training, it did not matter who you were: a farmer’s son, a baker’s daughter… if you dedicated your heart, trained hard and understood what values had an Eldian warrior, what a life meant, you were fit to become one.

They stopped to observe the fresh batch that just started training a few months back go through a hand to hand combat. The instructor, a tall and intimidating man, bald with prominent wrinkles on his forehead and very notorious dark circles under his eyes, yelled out orders to the recruits. Some flinched, some fought every fibre of their beings into not taking a step back –a few of them failing–, but some stood their ground with confident and resolved stares, bearing down the drilling of the grim and frightening man.

Upon seeing that their Chief, the veteran warriors and the Gottesreichan guests where watching them, the recruits swallowed down their fears and tried to impress their leaders and royal guests, trying to make a good and fearsome impression of what the Eldian training grounds and warriors were made of. Punches, kicks, throwing the opponent on the floor… the field became a controlled battlefield of snarls, growls and frustrated shouts that developed into determined grunts. The recruits’ clothes soon became soiled by a mix of sweat and dirt, as a result of their vigorous and energetic try of today’s exercises.

The Princess did not dare to voice it aloud, in fear of her thoughts being perceived as a critique and direct attack on the Eldian ways, but her heart shrank inside her chest at the sight of what must be the smallest, tiniest of the new recruits, a blonde girl with wide blue eyes like the sky above, go against a trainee twice her size. Eva involuntarily clenched her hands in apprehension on the Chief’s arm, eyes not able to look away from the imminent tragedy. She was too tiny to be there! That poor girl was surely to be beaten into a pulp, taken advantage of the fact that she was much weaker, much more smaller–

A large hand squeezed her tightly clasped ones, making the Princess tear away her concerned gaze, even if she thought it was impossible for her to do so, to look down and see the Chief’s one bury her own. The Princess immediately searched for the Chief’s eyes, surprised at how he was already gazing down on her and had a small reassuring smile on his lips, nodding towards the training field. Eva looked straight ahead, just in time to see the petite girl dodge and deliver a solid punch to her opponent, making the cadet stagger backwards and clutch their stomach in pain. It was still far from being perfect and devastatingly powerful, as Eldians were known for, but it was good enough for a start and for the tiny warrior’s size. A small breath of relief released itself from the Princess’ lungs.

It still shocked Eva to the core to see women amongst the military ranks and files of Eldia, and nobody questioning it. Apparently there weren’t any kind of laws to forbid them to enlist, or to do any other job that back in Gottesreich it was meant only for men. How could they do it? How could those brave women endure it? Eva had always been taught how them, the lesser, weaker sex, could not what a man could do, just because God said so in his holy words. Father was the High Priest of Gottesreich, Father preached the word of God, the Holy Scriptures, that he made memorise Eva the moment she began her intense training as the third Princess of Gottesreich. It was so deeply ingrained in her mind that the mere thought of thinking herself above a man and their role made the Princess want to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness from her God.

How far did the dissimilarities run between their nations? How could Father entrust her with his desire to enlighten the Eldians into the correct, pious path? Just the simple thought of questioning her husband-to-be and his ways chilled her entire body and soul. She just… couldn’t. Her father’s will confused Eva.

But still, deep down inside her, locked down and not even daring to let it see the light, she couldn’t help but to… envy them. Envy their freedom of choice, of options, of life. Could she ever be like them? Aspire to have their wide range of choices? Alternatives? Could she choose her own path? She had been taught since she was a little girl that she would spend her life in a home, with her husband and a child in her arms. Not travelling, not expanding knowledge, or meeting new people and cultures… Everything Father and the Governess told her reminded little Eva of a bird cage. Pretty, comfortable, enough to see what was beyond the bars… but a cage.

She learned to accept her fate quickly, not daring to cross Father ever again in her life.

Eva knew she was born in a privileged home. A castle. A Princess. Never hungry, never cold, only the best of the best for her. It only took a quick look beyond the capital to see how privilege fed and took care of her. All her whims and wishes met without hesitation. Not a single patch to fix on her dresses, her hairbrush not missing a single bristle and made of the best silver— a perfect, content life. All you have to do is your duty, Father said. Do what you were born to do. Your only purpose.

Make me proud of being your Father.

Bring glory to the Holy Kingdom.

She was made to be bred, she was made to bear children, heirs, she was made to be a leverage for deals, a bargain chip, as her mind whispered to her in her darkest moments, to bring prosperity and glory to the Holy Kingdom of Gottesreich. She was… She was…

“Your Highness?”

The Princess was brought back to the present by Moblit’s placid voice and the Chief’s gentle tug, as if she had been rooted there, staring at the warriors, and getting lost in her troubles instead of following her fiancé and Eldian hosts. They were staring at her. Everyone. At least it felt like everyone, even the animals. Her breath had caught in her lungs, her throat a hard knot she forced herself to swallow before speaking.

“My deepest apologies, my Lords.” Eva’s mind scrambled to find an appropriate excuse for her lack of manners and being caught zoning out. “I did not mean any disrespect by my actions or to show an unwillingness to follow this pleasant walk. I was simply transfixed by your warriors, admiring their tenacity and will.”

What a load of bullshit.

They all seemed to buy it. Not Flora, though. She could see right through Eva as if she had been made of glass. Her handmaiden would probably ask her about it later in the privacy of their own lodgings, but let it go for now, knowing it was no use to inquire about it in the middle of the village tour, even less in front of their hosts.

They resumed the walk, passing through the training grounds before turning to their right, strolling until they reached one of the biggest houses of the village. Moblit informed them it was where the sick and injured were taken care of. A house for the sick, a hospital. Gottesreich had its own physicians and doctors, but never a house dedicated for the sick, the poor. Eva knew the Palace had their own royal physicians, dedicated only to them, and the people needed to rely on the town’s doctors.

Eva wondered how did this hospital work. Did they dedicate a part of the taxes to it? Was it free? What remedies did they use? What—

One of the windows was slammed open, an excited yell coming out of it. Moblit let out a tired sigh, mumbling in Eldian, as if he knew exactly what was that about. Levi spoke too, the tone in his voice denoting annoyance. Eva felt the Chieftain chuckle, answering his right-hand man with something that made Levi snort.

A head poked out of the window, messy brown hair tied up in a scrambled ponytail. The stranger kept shouting, excited, continuous noises of delight coming out of their mouth. The person noticed the small entourage right down their window, and quieted down instantly, curious as to who were the ones standing there. Then, another excited screech, lurching their body almost out of the window as they enthusiastically waved down. Moblit let out a strangled noise, uselessly raising his arms as if he wanted to catch the over excited person dangling off the window.

Eva discreetly looked to her side, looking for an answer or explanation in the Chief’s eyes, but he was looking up with an amused smile. She used his distraction to look behind her, finding the exact confused expression on her handmaiden and brother’s faces. The Princess saw Flora quietly shrug her shoulders, and she was so tempted to join her, but refrained in case the Eldians caught her and found it impolite. The person on the window shouted something and disappeared inside, sounds of furniture being moved around reaching their ears. Moblit groaned, rubbing his temples.

A few minutes later the same person who had half their body out of the window came out from the main doors of the hospital. Levi discreetly stepped away, not wanting to be involved with the newcomer and the imminent events. He really wanted to go back to the privacy and tranquility of his own home, drink a nice cup of tea…

An excited exclamation followed by a strident laugh broke Levi’s long desired daydream. He watched their eccentric approach, wondering how their guests would react to them. Judging by how the delicate Princess gasped at anything that came running and loud, Levi guessed it would not go right. Mike silently joined him, crossing his arms as he, too, observed the catastrophe about to happen.

“Bets?” Mike’s low murmur made Levi snort.

“She will freak out.” Levi turned his head to amusedly stare at his fellow warrior. “Like she did with you.”

Mike scoffed, crossing his arms.

“C’mon, not you too. And I say she doesn’t, just to spite you.”

“Hah! Serves you right, you big-nosed moose.” Levi’s gaze fell back to the front.

“It was not my intention.” it truly hadn’t been. He couldn’t help it, Mike trusted his nose, knowing his instincts never failed him before. He had to know.

“Just, don’t go sniffing people.”

“I will not make such promises.” Mike’s lips curled into a smile, proud at the way he managed to make Levi’s shoulders briefly shake.

Both warriors kept watching the scene in front of them, with Moblit trying to save the situation from their beloved doctor’s clutches, quickly directing their attention to himself and his words. Everybody knew that Moblit had a reserved spot on their Goddesses’ paradise; nobody worked as hard as him, and was as skilled to manage the village’s resident genius doctor.

“Your Highnesses, it is my pleasure to introduce you to our doctor, Hange Zoë. They are the head of the hospital and–”

“IT IS PLEASURE TO MEET, HIGHNESSESES!” Hange cut the poor and exasperated Moblit out, excitedly looking from one sibling to the other. The royal hosts were surprised at the doctor’s broken Gottesreichan attempt, albeit enthusiastic.

Flora successfully covered an amused snort. Ardor! Fervor! Passion! Flora admired that in a person, and for now, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to catch her attention. The handmaiden was sure she could learn interesting things from this eager physician, and secretly wanted to see how Eva would react. It reminded her of her first week as the Princess’ handmaiden, chasing a scared and overwhelmed Eva down the corridors as she tightly clutched one of her precious books, wanting to volt out of any situation that involved a loud and chatty girl following her everywhere. Flora realises know that she had been a little bit insensitive to her poor friend, but in her defense she just wanted her Princess to live.

The eccentric doctor went from sibling to sibling, offering their hand for them to shake. Prince Hans took it surprisingly well, smiling warmly and shaking the offered hand with what would be considered a perfect grip, confident and secure, while Hange still kept letting out broken gottesreichan, not giving any thought to the mistakes. Friederich was confused, and as such, shook his hand with the same sentiment as he was feeling; the second Prince felt as if a strong wind knocked him out of his feet and all he could say was “huh?”.

But ah, Eva. Poor Eva. She had brief flashes of her childhood with Flora, of an overexcited girl running after her as she talked, and talked, and talked… until Eva began to enjoy her extroverted nature and secretly thanked her for dragging her out of her room or the library. But still, Doctor Hange Zoë managed to scare the living daylights out of her with their excited gasp and sparkling eyes. Eva clutched the Chief’s arm in a deathly grip for the second time that day.

Hange offered their hand out too, but then seemed to think about it. Did princesses shake hands too? Was it protocol? Well, Hange never truly cared about protocols, to be honest, Moblit usually took care of that. So maybe it was too forward? Should Hange bow? Did they thoroughly screw up in their eagerness–?

Eva raised her hand and took Hange’s as her brothers did, Forcing herself to paint a warm smile on her lips.

Her father and governess’ voices were screaming inside her head, louder than her own heartbeat. How dare you shake hands with a commoner, you, a princess of Gottesreich? A princess should never shake hands! Commoners must bow, must kneel, must–

“The pleasure is mine, doctor Zoë. I am afraid I do not know any word of Eldian yet, but thank you for your efforts. I hope to learn soon.” Eva would follow her brothers’ lead for now, as they discussed on their journey to Eldia. Father was not here. Father did not understand. If Eva was to settle here to start a new life and end it here, she could not start fights and discontent because of her father’s pride. It was the smart thing to do.

The coarseness of her father always upsetted her, even if she swallowed her discontent, not wanting to repeat that night.

Hange’s uncertain face instantly turned into a bright smile. They didn’t screw up! The doctor turned to say something to the Chief, who in return gained a brief smile. Then, Hange returned their attention to the siblings.

Levi was rendered speechless. He lost the stupid bet! Levi was sure the Princess would freak out upon Hange’s overly enthusiastic greetings, judging by how she had reacted earlier with Mike and his antics. He didn’t dare to turn to his left to see Mike’s moronic moustache smiling smugly at him.

“You owe me.” Mike’s grin could be heard in his voice.

“Shut up, you giant tree.” Damn it!

“Want come in? Show house?” Hange signaled to the main entrance of the Hospital, already thinking about the tour they would take the royal siblings and show how amazing their inventions and discoveries had been.

Should Eva say yes? No, that was arrogant of her, she couldn’t decide on a whim what or what to not do, even less without consulting it with her brothers or the Eldian leader. Didn’t the Eldians also have an itinerary already made for today? The people on the streets and outside the hospital were staring at them, curious about the scene in front of them. Eva was getting nervous. their stares were suffocating her, their attention adding more weight on her, her mind scrambling to find an appropriate response–

Moblit intercepted before Eva could begin, quickly saving the moment.

The Princess was grateful for it, feeling the weight of the decision on her shoulders diminish; she restrained her relieved sigh from escaping her lips, though. Moblit would handle it, thank God above! With a pang of pity in her heart, Eva watched Hange go from thrilled to crestfallen as Moblit spoke. Now she felt bad, knowing for sure they had the best intentions in their heart. Maybe the detour wasn’t that bad…?

But Hange immediately returned to their cheerful self.

“Must come other day! Question Erwin about it!” Hange clasped Eva’s hand in theirs, that exhilarated spark back in their eyes. “Must show you fun things!”

Eva pressed her lips into a tight, nervous smile and nodded, hoping it would be enough to quench Doctor Hange’s eagerness. Too forward! Too forward! Was this also an eldian thing? It seemed to do the trick, as they went back inside the hospital when an assistant called them from the door and enthusiastically waved goodbye.

“Apologies, your Highnesses.” Moblit deserved a raise and long vacations. It had been only a day, but it was clear for the gottesreichan guests that the poor man dealt with a lot, and it seemed that Doctor Hange occupied 80% of it. “I must ask for you to forgive Doctor Hange’s lack of protocol and take no offence by it. The Doctor really enjoys meeting new people and telling about their discoveries and new remedies.”

“No offense taken, Moblit. I’m sure Doctor Hange can make it up to us by showing us what they are so excited for, right?” Hans was genuinely interested, always asking the doctors and physicians back at the palace about everything, going as far as reading some books, although he understood half of it. He truly wanted to know Doctor Hange’s thoughts.

“Honestly, I’m curious now.” Friederich scratched his nose, mumbling. Hans sniggered, lowering his voice so only his brother and her sister’s handmaiden could hear him.

“You, willing to listen to non-battle-related things? Who are you and where is my dear brother?” Flora snickered, covering her mouth.

“Oi!” Friederich’s ears went red at the tips.

“We will have to come tomorrow, then.”

Moblit approached them, always with his calm smile on his face.

“May we continue, your Highnesses?”

Only when they resumed their tour, hearing Moblit talk with her brothers and the Eldian warriors escorting them, did Eva realise how Doctor Hange was wearing glasses.

Saying Eva was scared was not enough. Terrified? Frightened? Petrified? There was no adjective to describe the sheer terror those beasts instilled inside her heart. Those were not horses. No horse could be that monstrous size. Nope. No way.

She didn’t even reach the horse’s chest! And even one leg was as thick as her whole body! How did they even suppose she could get on one of them?

They were led to the village’s stables, where the stable hands and grooms had horses ready with their saddles. Each one of them had a different saddle pad, beautiful Eldian embroidery and motifs of golden and white thread on a teal fabric, most of them resembling the ones from the village’s houses, the themes of the needle work being mostly of mother nature herself. The leather of the saddles were beautifully taken care of, going from darker to lighter tints of brown, no doubt the artisans made a good work of the dyes and its delicate processes.

The horses looked healthy, robust and ready to be ridden by their masters. If Eva wasn’t as scared as she was, she would be admiring the animals and the pure strength they exuded.

Friederich was getting more invested into this part of the tour than the previous one. Yes, Eldia was beautiful and curiously different, but for Friederich, it was still boring; he had never been good at diplomacy and pleasantry visits. He had always heard of Eldia’s monstrous steeds, and was delighted to see such enormous and sturdy stallions, powerfully built and vigorous. You could see the raw power in them, and couldn’t wait to see what it felt to ride one of them. Maybe he could convince the Eldian Chief to trade some… Surely his enemies would piss themselves upon seeing a beast such as this charging against them. Yeah, maybe he could, preferably at the evening banquet. Now was not the time.

This was an important ritual for the Eldians.

Moblit gracefully explained how this was considered crucial when two souls got engaged in Eldia. Hunting was part of their culture, a huge one, and they would not bring shame to their traditions and ancestors. It was an art, and the Eldians deeply respected nature and what it provided for humankind, so the solemn air was palpable. For Eldians this was a trial, also. Those who proposed to their lovers would have to hunt a magnificent piece for their betrothed, to both show that they could provide for them and also have the strength, patience, wit and endurance used in hunting that would prevail in their lives.

Since the Chief was getting engaged to the Princess, he had to prove himself to her, so she would accept and approve of her future husband. This ritual held even more importance for who was performing it, and the villagers were actually curious about how well would their Chief perform; sadly, some couples had to use all three attempts to succeed. They hoped the Chief would succeed at his first try.

For Eva, it was basically a show to see how much of a peacock the man could be, not that different from those in court who would fawn themselves and their achievements to win her hand, and what came with it. Bitter? Maybe so. She was just tired of men, but would respect the Eldian tradition. After all, traditions were traditions, and one should always honour them, no matter what.

For Flora, it was just like her beloved romantic novels. A man proving their worth to their beloved? Man versus Beast? Oh, how she wished that for herself! Maybe one day she would find love here, in Eldia. Who knew what the future awaited for her?

“As tradition says,” Moblit spoke. “The future bride and groom must ride together, as the willingness of their souls to start a new journey.”

Eva froze.

No way.

No.

There had to be a mistake. She thought she would ride in a small carriage with Flora, as the men rode and discussed their matters. Her dress wasn’t suited for riding!

On cue, one of the stable hands brought a magnificent white stallion, it’s crest carefully brushed and not a single tangle and bit of dirt on it. It was bigger than the other horses, robust, and Eva understood now what people meant when they said pets and horses resembled their owners: a horse truly fit for a Chief; it had to be his judging by the proud look the man had on his eyes.

The beast patiently stood right in front of them, not showing an ounce of nervousness or uneasiness. How Eva wished she felt the same. She just wanted to bolt right out of there.

The Princess felt the Chief turn towards her, and automatically released her hold on his arm, although he kept her hand in his, gently guiding her towards the Chief’s own stallion. Eva didn’t want to get closer, even less mount on it. She was terrified! They stood in front of the beast’s head, admiring the noble profile and long golden lashes it had. Eva saw the Chief affectionately gaze at his horse, giving it a tender stroke on its muzzle. He looked back at Eva, inviting her to do the same, but the Princess remained rooted, frozen on the spot. The Chief nudged her to pet the stallion’s head by lifting her hand himself, slowly, always watching her reactions closely— the Chieftain knew he was pushing her, but Erwin believed this would help her lose a little bit of her fearful first impression.

Eva watched, between a mix of horror and wonder, how her gloved fingers brushed the horse’s muzzle, its heat warming up her palm. The stallion didn’t even flinch at the change, letting itself be pet. Eva was amazed, transfixed, not even aware of the Chief’s gaze on her. Slowly, a sensation of relief washed all over her body, feeling more secure now that the beast showed no trace of nervousness upon seeing a new face. Eva even let herself release a small smile, even though her heart was still pounding fiercely inside her chest.

More horses were brought to them, each warrior taking the reins of their own steed, as well as new horses for the Princes to ride. Friederich was beyond excited, eyes going from head to rear of the enormous beast he was lent to ride. He looked like a child in a candy shop back at the Capital.

Everyone waited for the Chief to mount first, as tradition dictated. The solemn air felt like a pressing stone on the Princess, not truly knowing what she was supposed to do besides having to ride with him. Should she say something? Perform a certain move? But the Princess stood rooted there, letting her never-fading anxiety begin to swallow whole again.

The Chief prepared himself to mount on, grabbing the pommel with his left hand and easily hoisting himself up when he set his foot on the stirrup. Every move he did looked effortless, as if even a child could do that with their eyes closed. If they thought Eva could achieve such levels, they were going to be thoroughly disappointed. The Chief extended his hand to the Princess, signaling her to come closer and join him on the horse.

The question is: how the hell is she supposed to get on it?

Moblit did not give any clues or hints about it, and everyone respectfully watched as the Princess approached the Chief with small steps. The Eldian leader never looked away from her, and she truly reminded him of a scared fawn.

What came next was a blur for the Princess. One moment she was standing right beside the Chief, timidly taking his hand and raising her other one to try to reach the pommel as the Chief did, her foot raising too to set on the lowered stirrup, and on the next moment Eva found herself being lifted as if she weighted nothing, strong arms pulling her up, easily turning her so she sat astride the horse with her back pressed against his chest.

Eva couldn’t focus on anything but the feel of his broad and strong chest snugly pressed against her back, despite the layers of thick clothing and cloaks between them. Eva did not pay attention to everyone else getting on their horses, or how Friederich couldn’t help the boyish grin on his lips, or how Flora turned beet red when she was made to mount on the same horse as the second Prince of Gottesreich, her confident and self-assured attitude gone for a moment. She couldn’t, not with how the Chief righted her stance with gentle hands, or how he straightened her own dress skirts and cloak without being prompted to do so, or how he guided her gloved hands to the crest and horn, so she had something to hold on to, even if the arms that caged her in wouldn’t let her slip and fall. The cold was forgotten for a moment, as well as her nervous tension.

Prompting the beast to an easy gait, the Chief led the party outside the stables and onto the main street. That’s when Eva snapped out of her trance and quickly ventured a look towards her handmaiden, seeing her grip the crest of the horse she was on with red cheeks. Both women crossed looks, twin bewildered expressions greeting each other. Eva silently cheered for her friend, but was too occupied herself with her own troubles to even waggle her eyebrows to tease her handmaiden.

This was going to be a long day.

The main street greeted them with the eldian villagers gathered on the sides of it, creating a passageway of curious and expectant faces. Everyone looked like they were waiting for a signal, eyes glued to the Chief’s horse and its riders, fingers and feet fidgeting. When the Chief and the Princess passed the first bystanders, the whole wide street exploded into cheers and shouts and blue.

The villagers threw flowers on them and the horses’ hooves, smiling and clapping as they passed by. Eva recognised the winter flowers from before, the same she wore now on her braid, and watched the villagers cover the entire street in a mantle of blue and white. The Chief did not turn to greet or answer them, keeping his head and eyes straight ahead in a solemn show of respect towards their faith in him. That’s when Eva understood this was part of the hunting ritual too, bidding farewell and good luck to the couple about to engage in the ritual. So, to not be disrespectful towards their culture and traditions, Eva did the same, looking straight ahead towards the main gate, into the sky blue path. A flash of the Chieftains’ eyes crossed her mind. The same blue.

It truly was a beautiful sight.

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putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty · 4 years

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The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 5

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate. A/N: Helu! So, this is super late butttttt I’ve been soooo busy with my classes and the translation I’m working on :) This is a filler part, but I find it extremely cute, plus Finan and Aoife are getting closer, my children :’) Have fun reading this. byeeee Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior. General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence Chapter’s warning: Fluff fluff fluff, probably bad English? idk Words: 3410 Chapter Four.

Chapter Five: Stories and Returns

At some point she had passed out; it must have been just minutes because, when she woke up, her face was still wet of tears, and her hair too. She stood up and just yet noticed that she was starving. In the hall, the warriors and the Lady were already eating, and she slid next to Osferth, who shot her a smile and pushed a plate full of bread and cheese in her direction. “How are you feeling?” she asked, and he playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m doing well mum, stop worrying!” He was healing just fine, he could already walk on himself and laugh without pain, but he still had to be careful, wound like his took some time to heal. “Are you all right, Aoife?” Aethelflaed, who had followed their playful banter, asked cautiously. The Lady was sitting right in front of her and she could see how swollen and red Aoife’s eyes were. Anyone could, especially Finan, who was sitting next to Aethelflaed and in front of Osferth. “I’m fine, thank you my Lady. I’m just tired” No one seemed to believe her. Finan leant forward and filled her cup with ale. “Eat and drink. Then we go for a walk.” And so she ate abundantly and slowly, careful not to let anyone see how nervous and trepidant she was to spend some time alone with Finan. What did he want? Had she done something? Had he done something? He stared at her the entire supper with a questioning look, and it did not help the uncomfortable feeling of excitement and fear that was stirring her soul. When she chewed down the last bite, he stood up and, with a little bow to the Lady, left the hall. Aoife shot a questioning look to her friends, who just shrugged with an amazed smile on their faces; Aethelflaed gestured her to follow the warrior and she obeyed swiftly, her heart beating violently against her ribcage. Finan was waiting for her just outside the wooden door and, when the girl reached him, smiled sweetly. For a while, they walked down the streets of Saltwic in silence. It was a nice winter night without wind nor cloud and Aoife enjoyed the cold air on her cheeks and how bright the stars looked. The town was still alive, the torches still burning in the alehouse and the voices loud. People would pass them and bow respectfully, and Aoife would smile to each of them and greet them with a soft “G’night.”; it warmed Finan’s heart. They stopped right next to the town well, facing each other. The stars were reflected in her eyes, the blackest eyes Finan had ever seen. He was used to the clear eyes of Uthred and Sithric and Osferth, that painfully reminded him of his mother’s eyes, but he had never seen such dark eyes, so deep and welcoming. He had to restrain himself from running his thumb over her lashes, which looked as soft as they were long and thick. Aoife was looking back at him, bolder that she would have days before. He hadn’t even noticed that he was chewing on the cross hanging around his neck, something that Aoife had seen him doing before, when he was lost in his thoughts. She found it precious, somehow vulnerable, a very childlike action, so at odds with his mature stance. And he had pretty hands too, with long thin fingers, different from the stubby hands of the Mercians. She was curious to learn where he came from, where his family lived. Had he always been a swordsman? He had the delicate hands of a musician, corrupted by the scars and dirty of his warrior life. There was a specific reason to why he had asked her to walk with him, but now that she was watching him in such a direct, open way, like no one else had ever done before, he could not find the right words to address it. “I never thanked you” he finally croaked, his voice just above a whisper. And she smiled , calmly yet questioning, still watching him boldly. “What for?” “For saving my life” “You don’t have to.” She assured him “It was the right thing to do.” He took her hand in his, succumbing to his own desires. Her skin was not as soft as he remembered, chapped and irritated by the wind and callous were the hilt of the sword would press during her training; on the opposite, her touch was delicate and prudent. He grazed his thumb on her knuckles and smiled, looking at her through his lashes. “Still, you acted like a true warrior and if I’m here today is just because of you. I shall never forget it, Aoife.” Under the dim light of the torches, she blushed and her bottom lip drop slightly, but she didn’t reply. “Also…” he kept going “I apologise if I’ve been too hard on you today.” “What made you think that?” He shrugged “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, but you look…” he looked her head to toe “distressed.” She averted her gaze, eyes filling with tears. He was pitying her, then. She was too embarrassed to watch him, now, she didn’t have problems with being emotional, but she did not like compassion. “It’s not you, Finan.” She mumbled, her voice shaking “It’s just…” she couldn’t find the words to explain how she was feeling, torn between excitement and guilty, happiness and grieving. She gasped for air and tried to wipe the tears from her face, trying to push herself away from the warrior. But he did not let her step back, fearing that if she left, she would never be so confidently herself with him. He reached her and embraced her without hesitation and, despite her surprise, her body reacted naturally and she hid her face in the crook of his neck. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she noticed that he smelled of leather and metal, the scent she expected from a warrior, and just behind it she could detect the natural fragrance of his skin, and she loved how intimate that new experience was. The warmth of his body was comforting and welcoming and she couldn’t understand if it was her heart of his beating fast against her skin. He held her tightly, her fingers dipping in his back, and he was not sure where to put his hands, afraid to cross any line, but she smelled so good and her body was so warm that he could not help but melt against her and run his fingers through her hair until her tears stopped. They were ready to let go. The night had fallen long before Osferth decided to retire to his room in the alehouse. He walked slowly, in the cold air of winter. He was enjoying every second of his stay in Saltwic, knowing well how rare moments of peace were for a warrior. His wound was itching, and he picked up his pace, dreaming of his warm bed and the ointment Aoife had prepare precisely for when the healing wound would become too uncomfortable. She was an amazing healer, and he had wondered many times if he would be alive without her help. The well was fairly close, which meant that in less than a minute he would be at the alehouse. And right in front of the well, he witnessed the blossom of a love. Aoife and Finan embraced in the dark. Since that night, Finan had spent most of his time with Aoife. Honestly, he hadn’t had much to do, while she seemed to be always busy; so, he had followed her around for days, helping and amusing her. He had noticed that she was growing bolder every day, quick to answer his remarks. She still blushed, though, and he was proud of how much his words and actions could affect her. He had found himself spending with her every day and thinking about her every night; he knew he was slowly falling in love with the woman and he was trying to fight it. She was young, innocent and inexpert of everything that the world had to offer; she deserved someone just as fresh as her. Even with this knowledge, he could not stop himself from spending all his spare time with her, from thinking about her constantly, from looking for her in every room. Besides, when he tried to stay away from her, she would find him everywhere, with a little pout on her full red lips. “Were you hiding from me, Finan?” she would ask, mocking pain with a hand on her chest and he would smile and bow dramatically in her direction “I was not, milady. I was looking for you.” To assay her, Finan started telling her the most vile stories of his past; he talked about blood and swindles and heartbreaks; and one day, while he was sitting on the fence of the stable and telling her one of his cruellest stories, she ceased grooming her horse and, with a sharp smile, commented “I know what you’re doing, Finan.” “What am I doing, then?” “You’re trying to scare me away. But you’re actually doing the opposite.” she run her hand up and down her mount’s face “Because I know you now, and I know you’re not the man you’re telling me about. Not anymore, at least. I think every one of those stories made you the man you are today, a much better person than you think. I’m no fool, and surely, I’m not as innocent as you think I am. If I’d had the faintest impression that you were not a good person, I would not be here now.” “Are you making a pass at me, dear?” She looked back at him with a gaze so deep he felt naked and, unexpectedly, something that hadn’t done since he was a child happened: he blushed. It infuriated him how much power she had on him, how his body melted right against hers when she snuck between his knees and pressed her hands against his tights. He lowered his face to meet her eyes and she stood on her tiptoes. Was she about to kiss him? Did he want her to? Of course he wanted to kiss her, but was he ready for the consequences? He was aware of how his heart worked, how hardly and quickly he fell in and out of love with a woman; he did not want to hurt her in that way. Yet again, his worrying alone was an indicator of how different what he felt for her was from his previous women; he had never worried for the consequences of his actions before, but here he was now hesitating to kiss the prettiest woman watching him from under her black eyelashes. And he hesitated a moment too long, because when he finally leant towards her, she shot him a feral smile and pushed him down the fence. The last thing Finan heard, before the splashing of his body on horse shit, was Aoife’s crystal laugh. And he was happy. Winter was giving the way to spring slowly but relentlessly, the sun now a little warmer and the days a little longer. That afternoon Finan had joined Aoife at the stream and little white flowers were already sprouting from the snow along the banks, where the temperature was higher, and the first birds were chirping on the branches moved by a delicate wind. All day long, Aoife had been busy with Aethelflaed, Finan had seen them walked down the streets of Saltwic, arm in arm. Now, finally, they were together and he was watching her washing clothes. He didn’t understand how she could dip her hands in the cold water without freezing, but she had assured him that the shock was only temporary and after that, it was almost as if the water was warm. “Tell me something, Finan.” She then requested, while he was adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. With time they had become physically very closed, always touching each other in some way. “About what?” She stopped to look him in the eyes “I don’t know, something… how did you and Uthred met?” That was a story that many knew, but he still did not feel comfortable in telling it. Yet, Aoife was the one person who made him feel safe, calm, unjudged. If there was someone that could cast away the ghosts of his past, that would be her. He dipped the tip of his finger in the cold water, rippling the surface. “I have done things I am not proud of, Aoife. And some of them had led me to slavery. I have spent winters and summers at the bottom of a ship, rowing and rowing, with the sun and the wind and the snow. I reached a point where I could barely remember who I was, where I came from, why I was there. Then one day Uthred came. He was dressed as a slave, and was rowing as a slave, but there was something behind his eyes that told a whole other story. And somehow, in that hell, we bounded. And when his brother came to the rescue, he did not abandon me, he gave me a reason to live. He still do every day, and I owe him my life. He not only saved me from that ship, but he also brought me back to the man I was, and he gave me a chance to be someone better than that man. And we are bound in ways that no one could ever understand; we have suffered and seen things that no one else could ever understand. That’s why my sword is his, until the day I die. I would give my life for him, my soul for him. He is my brother. My family.” Aoife was holding his hands, he hadn’t even noticed, up until that moment, that she had stopped washing and had knelt in front of him. She caressed his face gently, brushing her cold fingertips against his scars. She had many questions, about his past, his regrets, his fears. She felt as if she knew nothing of him while knowing him deeper than many could say. He was a mystery, with a very dark past, yet he was the person she trusted the most. “Thank you for sharing your story with me, Finan” she whispered softly, and he smiled, leaning in her cold palm and kissing it softly “Thank you for listening, Aoife.” She smiled, returning at her duties. “Your name is Irish too, did you know that?” Finan watched her stiffen, suddenly uncomfortable “I do know that , yes.” Here it was, the thing he couldn’t bear about her: it was easy for him to open with her, he had trusted her entirely in a short period of time, while her, as much as she seemed to enjoy his company, had yet to trust him with her past; and perhaps it was wrong, but he wanted answers to his curiosity, about her family, and the mysterious man who had gifted her with weapons and a horse, and her past; so he kept pushing her. “Was your mother Irish?” She paused “No, Finan.” He was walking down a dangerous path “What’s with that name then?” She looked up at him, with a pained and somehow angry face “You won’t rest until I’ll give you answers, right?” “Indeed, lady.” She sat down with a huff “My mom was in love with an Irish man and wanted to honour him with my name.” “Was he your father?” “Not quite.” Here she was again, reticent woman. Finan had even talked about it with Osferth, with whom Aoife seemed to have bounded and she felt freer talking – Finan at times could not stand how close they were – but the monk too had admitted that he had tried but failed in that same situation. Even Aethelflaed knew nothing, and where a Lady can’t succeed, what are the chances for a warrior to? Therefore, he took what she had offered him, which was a lot considering the previous attempts, and held her hand to his lips, kissing her cold knuckles. “Let’s go back, you’re freezing.” They had walked back in silence, hand in hand. The sun was setting one they entered the hall, where the warriors were enjoying some spare time playing dice and drinking ale. Finan left Aoife with one of his sweetest smiles and joined his companions, while she sat down next to Osferth, who was warming up in front of the fire. “You’re getting closer by the day, aren’t you? By Sunday you’ll be married.” The monk joked, gaining a light kick on the shin; the training had helped her quite a lot with her fighting skills, but, as a result, she had become more violent.“Hey, you should not hit your patients!”“I brought you back to life, I can end it just as easily.” Osferth laughed, wrapping her shoulder with his long, thin arm. He had found himself growing less shy every day and he had now reached a point of ease with Aoife that he had become physical affectionate, a part of him he had hidden successfully during his monk life. Growing up in a monastery, he hadn’t spent much time with people his age, and even now, travelling with Uthred’s warrior, he felt that there was a certain aspect of him that they could not understand. Aoife, on the other hand, had experienced a similar youth and with her he could be himself. By the day, she was becoming more and more a warrior, as was he, but they would always remain children of the church and the type of education they had been raised through was different – if not opposite – to those of the others and for that reason they were bounded as siblings. Finan watched them for long, curious – and somehow jealous – of why they were laughing. He had noticed that everyone adored Aoife, she had the singular power of making people at ease. As far as he knew her, and it wasn’t much, she seemed without flaws. However, based on his experience, he knew it could not be possible and he feared the day he would discover her darkest side. For now, though, he decided to join them and hope that their contagious laughs would heal his restless soul. Enjoying some peace after years of battles and death was a gift, he was aware of it, but he would never stop being a warrior and he missed the clanking of swords and the stench of blood, sweat and fear. He missed the shivers of excitement running down his spine on the battlefield, and the surreal, still silence that followed a bloodshed. Yet, he was torn between the past he knew, living day by day without the certainty of a tomorrow, and this new routine of enjoy sweet talks and long walks with Aoife. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that he did not care for the fresh air, nor for the starry night, he just cared for the lady standing next to him under that dark sky. For now, however, he did not have to choose, and he grabbed three cups and joined his friends. “Why are we laughing?” he asked, dropping heavily next to Aoife, who shot him a bright smile. “Just threating Osferth, here.” she answered cheerfully, accepting the ale he was offering. “Oh, I do like this game.” “No you do not!” Osferth huffed, sipping his ale “Just let me be, I’m still recovering.” Finan had a sharp reply on the tip of his tongue but he was interrupted by hooves drumming outside; with the heart beating in his throat he jumped up, running to the window. “What is it?” Osferth asked. “You mean, who is it” Finan smiled, looking outside “Osferth.” He then called urgently, in his tone a happiness and thrill Aoife had never heard. He was not quick enough to reach the door and it opened from the outside, bringing in the room cold wind and smell of horses. And then here he was, wrapped in furs and covered in snow, his sword standing proudly against his back, the widest, proudest smile on his gorgeous face. Uthred of Bebbanburg was back. Chapter Six.

#fanfiction #finan #finan the agile #tlk finan #fanfic #finan x oc #tlk #The Last Kingdom #osferth #Aethelflaed #uthred #sithric #writing

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heresathreebee · 4 years

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Garrote part 12

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez X Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Summary: Healy and the Jimenez’ are gearing up for war. Jazmine’s getting antsy waiting for something to go horribly wrong. Previous Masterlist Next

Rating/Warning(s): Mature (+18 or I call the police). post-coitus fluff, swearing, anxiety, time skip, canon typical violence (I think...?), all plot, gringo using google translate Spanish and half remembered high school classes (sorry in advance), mentions of grooming/pedophilia (don’t worry, Porsche’s OK)

Word count: 2.2k words

Author’s Note(s): yeah so I wrote this back in December and just didn’t have the heart to put it out. I wanted to try and finish the other chapters (thinking I’m gonna wrap up at seventeen chapters) and I couldn’t. I have a problem with finishing anything I start, it never feels strong enough. I’m gonna try not to let that stop me though, promise.

Waking up in Diego’s arms, Jazmine never expected to feel so calm. Truth be told she didn't really wake up, but drifted in and out of sweet harmonious consciousness to find Diego, whether he was cradling her or sitting up or rubbing her back. She finally managed to convince herself to get out of bed and by then it was already 2 in the afternoon. Diego had his pants and shoes back on but nothing else, so she relaxed a little.

"You need to eat," he whispered, "come on, get dressed."

Jazmine blinked slowly. "I need a shower. Maybe a wheelchair, too."

She didn't miss the proud smirk that suddenly graced his handsome features. As he put on his shirt, Jazmine glanced past him at the open door of the closet. It was empty inside save for a few hangers, but it left a bad taste in her mouth and a lump in her throat. Diego followed her line of sight and said nothing. He let her shower, never more than five feet away (which is exactly how far the shower curtain is to the bathroom door). They ate somewhere family friendly, a pancake house she barely remembered the name of. Her legs still suffered from tremors and her pelvic region ached, but they were good feelings and she tried to make them last as they put a smile on her face.

It's been about a week and Jazmine has seen neither hide nor hair of Haagen and it's starting to worry her.

The only relief she had been able to accrue these past few days had been Healy's announcement that they had made a huge connection and were in the process of setting up task forces to take Haagen down. Alicia was confident that Haagen knew nothing and was continuing on with business as usual (or so she heard through the grapevine), and even Diego seemed to be relaxed about it.

That was another thing that bothered her. Diego, relaxed. Diego doing more hands on business and clubbing at all hours of the night. He'd barely said two words to her after coming to the rescue and fucking her silly in front of Haagen.

Sitting alone in the penthouse, Jazmine scratched at every itch and tugged on every baby hair like her skin was diseased. She didn't want to go outside, she was too afraid of Haagen's next move. She had been texting her mother regularly again just so she wouldn't call and have to explain why she sounded so nervous. It would have taken LaShawn all of ten seconds to realize something was wrong: so why couldn't anybody else see it?

Maybe she was overreacting. Jazmine drew a hot bath in the jacuzzi sized tub and turned the jets on, finding bubble bath solution and a pink rubber ducky to cradle. The bathroom had a dimmer switch she turned down to near zero and let silky smooth R&B from the 90's wash her worries away. Her fingers worked to squeeze the ducky like a stress ball, and a traitorous part of her brain whispered longing thoughts.

I wish Diego was here to massage my back.

She shushed her thoughts: at least the bath is perfectly hot.

She washed her body and spent the better part of the day deep conditioning her hair and shaving her legs just for the hell of it. The music never stopped, it simply rolled from R&B to classic rock and then back again. Miguel checked in only to make sure she ate, and Jazmine managed to convince him to eat with her and play a co-op mobile game for a few hours. She plucked at the listening device in her ear for the thousandth time and decided to just call Healy.

"Hey can't talk right now," were all the words she got out of him on the second call and then an immediate hang up.

Jazmine growled and crossed her arms, suddenly reminded she was still wearing nothing but a bathrobe. She slipped into a pair of jeans and a tank top, and feeling bold, she marched up to Diego’s room and swiped a black button down that smelled like him. She tucked it unbuttoned into her pants and swanned up to the penthouse roof with a bottle of wine and one glass.

She knew she would miss this level of extravagance. Never worrying about paying for rent or for food or selling her time and labor for someone else and next to nothing pay. Jazmine wondered what Diego would say to becoming her sugar daddy after this whole human trafficking business was over, but shook her head and topped her drink off.

Probably overstayed my welcome, she thinks, that’s why Diego’s been distant lately.

Jazmine was unnaturally quiet on her end, though Healy recognized the tinkling sound of bottle to glass. Probably on her fourth drink if he was counting correctly. No matter– she was safe for now at Diego’s penthouse suite and there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Brasa was leaning over each and every agent sat in the boardroom as if to intimidate them into obeying her every command. She was a good detective, really she was, she just needed to work on trusting the people who trusted her. Her partner Holbrooke was no help at all– selective mutism was a nasty habit to overcome. Brasa had not breathed a word of thanks in Healy’s direction, but he had expected that. This wasn’t about the praise– it was about justice.

When he could finally break away for coffee and a piss, he sent a text to Alicia. No doubt los hermanos Jimenez would be thrilled with the intel– but what would happen next?

The safest place for Jazmine right now is Diego’s place, he thought, but for how much longer?

An address and a transcribed photograph of the documents they came from. Healy had told them that the most likely scenario for Porsche’s whereabouts was ‘adoption’ by people who did not want any adoption documents to surface later on. The family probably has prestige, they may have lost a child recently and are looking to replace it like a goldfish and hope no one notices.

It didn’t stop Diego’s trigger finger from inching closer and closer to his gun at every small pump of the breaks.

“Tranquil, hermano,” Alicia soothed. “We’re almost there. We can kill them after we get la pequena back.”

Diego sniffed and hopped out of the car as soon as it finally parked. Alicia was right behind him, checking her peripherals on the well lit streets of this upscale neighborhood. It was them two and one guard each, a second car bearing two underlings coming in from the back door and four cars with heavily armed back up around the corner in case things went south. Brother and sister climbed the porch steps idly, slipping their guns back into their hidey spots before knocking on the front door…

“Fuck.”

Jazmine’s phone battery flashed at 3%. She didn’t remember finishing the bottle, but she did really have to pee so she stood up from the pool’s edge to relieve herself. Miguel was asleep on the white leather couches in the living room, mouth open and drooling with his gun on the table. The woman’s steps were a little unsteady and her vision came in waves, but she felt that fuzzy warm buzz and decided she had better not drive.

She shook the young man awake with a sigh. “Hey, I left something at my apartment. Can you drive me?”

Miguel pursed his lips. “I don’t think jefe would want–”

“Please,” she said, “it’s important.”

Miguel relented, swiping the keys to a Ferrari from the rack by the elevator and handed Jazmine her coat. Just a few more items she couldn't live without. The way Miguel drove meant they were there in no time at all, and every light they passed by in the dark somehow made Jazmine feel lighter, less jittery and anxious. She had Miguel drop her off by the backside of the apartment and climbed the steps alone after insisting she would only be a minute. All of her doors and windows were locked, the place looked exactly as she had left it.

“Thank god.”

She had to search for her charger, a sparkly teal thing with a cat and an alligator charm on it. She found it hiding under her bed, then found her way into the bathroom to check on her face in the mirror. Jazmine fingered the black hickeys on her neck, smiling to herself. She caught sight of something white hanging out of the trash and dug it out: her Chicago shirt. Stuffing it into her back pocket next to her phone charger, Jazmine took one last look at her apartment and blew a kiss to it.

“Bye,” she whispered, peaking into the dark and lingering on the memories she was about to leave behind forever until finally the lock clicked into place. Oh shit, this was the wrong door. Miguel was waiting out back–

Pop-pop-pop

Gunshots rang out from behind the building, the returning fire was short and stilted, overwhelmed by the repetition of an automatic. Jazmine took to the stairs at the far side of the building and ran down them wishing she was in something other than slippers. Her heart began to pound in her chest and her breath billowed in heavy clouds before disappearing. The second she stepped off of the last stair, she tripped. Her flimsy footwear slid on the thin layer of ice and she fell, her eyes and ears following the clink clink plop noise of her phone literally going down a storm drain.

She barely had time to scramble back to her feet before she heard tires come screeching around the corner down the street and she stumbled into a run.

Jazmine wasn’t sure how far she’d gone, and she can’t recall how many streets she turned on, or even if she was being chased at all. Every sound made her jump, and every car coming her way made her anxious. Her lungs burned for air as she finally collapsed against the window of a minimart. There were tears streaming down her cheeks as she pushed the door open to hide among the tiny rows of snacks and gum and cigarettes and refrigerated beverages. The store owner was wearing headphones and didn't bother looking up. Deep breath in. Exhausted, shaking breath out. Jazmine curled tightly around herself to try and calm down before her heart exploded in her chest.

Alicia and Diego have the father on his knees and bloodied. His wife and children are being held upstairs in one of the bedrooms, terrified. Diego wipes at a small spot of blood from his sister's face.

"Donde esta el bebe?," Diego said, grasping the man's ear and dragging his head back to look at him. "I won't ask you again."

"What baby?" The man coughed dryly, his eyes nearly swollen shut but still glimmering in fear. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Alicia kneeled down in her white pantsuit. "The baby you bought from Jeremy Haagen, Mr. Fletcher. A beautiful little girl with dusky hair and big brown eyes. A baby that belongs to us."

Fletcher squirms under the murderous gaze of los hermanos Jimenez but doesn’t break.

“You know, Diego,” Alicia said leaning on her brother’s shoulder, “I didn’t see a fourth bedroom.”

Diego pursed his lips. “So?”

“So the contract specified a room for our mariposa, and he already has two children. Where’s the other room?” Alicia’s heels clicked as the gear turned in Diego’s head. “I bet la senorita Fletcher might know.”

“No, please,” he begged, “leave my wife out of this– she’s got nothing to do with this!”

“So you do know what we’re talking about,” Diego’s aha motion garnered a vague threat with the point of his gun– gold plated, of course. Emeralds in the hilt this time.

“Secretly adopting a baby girl,” Alicia tsked, kneeling before Fletcher and brandishing a knife, “when you have two perfectly healthy girls of your own? Ay dios mio, what’s the matter? Three’s your lucky number, but your wife doesn’t put out anymore?”

Fletcher stumbled hard over his words and made next to no sense. One thing that did make it clear through the haze of nonsense struck a nerve with the Jimenezes: “I didn’t know she’d be that young!”

Alicia exchanged a queasy look with her brother. She had heard of it before: grooming. Usually starts when a girl is anywhere between nine and eighteen. Fletcher continued to ramble, about hiring a nanny and raising the baby anyway since Haagen didn’t do resales. He was probably just trying to get the baby off his hands…

Before Diego could pull the trigger, his phone rang. So did Alicia’s, both projecting the same number from a burner phone and three emojis to designate the caller: Healy. Alicia answered for Diego, jerking her head towards the door and mouthing, ‘I’ll take care of it from here.’ Diego reluctantly slipped outside, glaring at the nosy neighbors in the window who disappeared in a flash. He put the phone to his ear just in time to hear:

“– I need you to get to Nassau now: Jazmine’s in trouble.”

@mental-bycatch @kid-from-new-zealand @1zashreena1 @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 let me know if I missed anybody, I’m sorry it’s been so long

#Diego Jimenez #diego jimenez x oc #three bees writing #Garrote #🐝🐝🐝✒#Starz Power #angst

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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Daenerys Targaryen in A Storm of Swords vs Game of Thrones - Episode 3.5: Kissed by Fire

In this series of posts, I intend to analyze precisely how the show writers downplayed or erased several key aspects of Daenerys Targaryen’s characterization, even when they had the books to help them write her as the compelling, intelligent, compassionate, frugal, open-minded and self-critical character that GRRM created.

I want to make it clear that these posts are not primarily meant to offer a better alternative to what the show writers gave us. I understand that they had many constraints (e.g. other storylines to handle, a limited amount of time to write the scripts, budget, actors who may have asked for a certain number of lines, etc) working against them. However, considering how disrespectful the show’s ending was to Daenerys Targaryen and how the book material that they left out makes it even more ludicrous to think that she will also become a villain in A Song of Ice and Fire, I believe that these reviews are more than warranted. They are meant to dissect everything about Dany’s characterization that was lost in translation, with a lot of book evidence to corroborate my statements.

Since these reviews will dissect scene by scene, I recommend taking a look at this post because I will use its sequence to order Dany’s scenes.

This post is relevant in case you want to know which chapters were adapted in which GoT episodes (however, I didn’t make the list myself, all the information comes from the GoT Wiki, so I can’t guarantee that it’s 100% reliable).

In general, I will call the Dany from the books “Dany” and the Dany from the TV series “show!Dany”.

Scene 5

This episode was written by Bryan Cogman, but he admits here that the scenes in Essos were actually written by D&D.

Before I talk about the scene itself, we need to consider that its premise is flawed to begin with. Neither Barristan nor Jorah are known for making jokes and being friendly and amusing in general, they are actually known for lacking a sense of humor:

And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did. (ASOS Daenerys V)

"Give that tongue of yours a rest unless you'd rather I tied it in a knot."

Tyrion swallowed his retort. His lip was still fat and swollen from the last time he had pushed the big knight too far. Hard hands and no sense of humor makes for a bad marriage. That much he'd learned on the road from Selhorys. (ADWD Tyrion VII)

Twice exiled, and small wonder, Tyrion thought. I'd exile him too if I could. The man is cold, brooding, sullen, deaf to humor. And those are his good points. (ADWD Tyrion VIII)

Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT Eddard VIII)

In the purple hall, Dany found her ebon bench piled high about with satin pillows. The sight brought a wan smile to her lips. Ser Barristan’s work, she knew. The old knight was a good man, but sometimes very literal. It was only a jape, ser, she thought, but she sat on one of the pillows just the same. (ADWD Daenerys II)

Which is not to say that they can't ever laugh at people's jokes or make jokes themselves, but it's noticeable that the show's time to depict Dany's storyline is limited and that they still chose to write a scene that has little to do with their core personality traits.

Even more importantly, these two are unable to be friendly with one another because Jorah is too suspicious of Barristan and wants to isolate Dany from other men:

“In King’s Landing, your ancestors raised an immense domed castle for their dragons. The Dragonpit, it is called. It still stands atop the Hill of Rhaenys, though all in ruins now. That was where the royal dragons dwelt in days of yore, and a cavernous dwelling it was, with iron doors so wide that thirty knights could ride through them abreast. Yet even so, it was noted that none of the pit dragons ever reached the size of their ancestors. The maesters say it was because of the walls around them, and the great dome above their heads.”

“If walls could keep us small, peasants would all be tiny and kings as large as giants,” said Ser Jorah. “I’ve seen huge men born in hovels, and dwarfs who dwelt in castles.”

“Men are men,” Whitebeard replied. “Dragons are dragons.”

Ser Jorah snorted his disdain. “How profound.” The exile knight had no love for the old man, he’d made that plain from the first. “What do you know of dragons, anyway?” (ASOS Daenerys I)

“It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings.”

Ser Jorah snorted. “Along with a thousand others at some harvest feast. Next you’ll claim you squired for him.” (ASOS Daenerys I)

“A warrior without peer ... those are fine words, Your Grace, but words win no battles.”

“Swords win battles,” Ser Jorah said bluntly. “And Prince Rhaegar knew how to use one.” (ASOS Daenerys I) 

“...A change in the wind may bring the gift of victory.” He glanced at Ser Jorah. “Or a lady’s favor knotted round an arm.”

Mormont’s face darkened. “Be careful what you say, old man.”

Arstan had seen Ser Jorah fight at Lannisport, Dany knew, in the tourney Mormont had won with a lady’s favor knotted round his arm. He had won the lady too; Lynesse of House Hightower, his second wife, highborn and beautiful ... but she had ruined him, and abandoned him, and the memory of her was bitter to him now. “Be gentle, my knight.” She put a hand on Jorah’s arm. “Arstan had no wish to give offense, I’m certain.”

“As you say, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah’s voice was grudging. (ASOS Daenerys I)

Ser Jorah watched with a frown on his blunt honest face. Mormont was big and burly, strong of jaw and thick of shoulder. Not a handsome man by any means, but as true a friend as Dany had ever known. “You would be wise to take that old man’s words well salted,” he told her when Whitebeard was out of earshot.

[...] “This Arstan Whitebeard is playing you false. He is too old to be a squire, and too well spoken to be serving that oaf of a eunuch.” (ASOS Daenerys I)

“Sit, good ser, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“Three things.” Ser Jorah sat. “Strong Belwas. This Arstan Whitebeard. And Illyrio Mopatis, who sent them.” (ASOS Daenerys I)

But when Mero was gone, Arstan Whitebeard said, “That one has an evil reputation, even in Westeros. Do not be misled by his manner, Your Grace. He will drink three toasts to your health tonight, and rape you on the morrow.”

“The old man’s right for once,” Ser Jorah said. (ASOS Daenerys IV)

“Whilst you have an honest beard, is that what you are telling me? You are the only man I should ever trust?”

He stiffened. “I did not say that.”

“You say it every day. Pyat Pree’s a liar, Xaro’s a schemer, Belwas a braggart, Arstan an assassin ... do you think I’m still some virgin girl, that I cannot hear the words behind the words?” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

“Khaleesi, before you kneels Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who betrayed your House to serve the Usurper Robert Baratheon.”

The old knight did not so much as blink. “The crow calls the raven black, and you speak of betrayal.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

I doubt their book counterparts would spend their time apart from Dany talking to each other about their pasts, and I think that's a significant change because it's another way that makes show!Jorah (whose book counterpart is a slaver who tries to groom, isolate and undermine Dany) be seen in a much more positive light than in the books.

JORAH: It was a bitch of a siege.

BARRISTAN: Mm, you were first through the breach at Pyke?

JORAH: The second. Thoros of Myr went in alone, waving that flaming sword of his.

BARRISTAN: Thoros of Myr. Bloody madman. Robert knighted you after the battle?

JORAH: Proudest moment of my life. One knee in the dust, the king's sword on my shoulder, listening to the words. "In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave." All I could think of was how badly I had to piss. In full plate metal for 16 hours. Never occurred to me till the fighting was over. I was very nearly the first man knighted to piss on the king's boots.

In the books, the siege of Pyke is brought up in this context:

“By then my father had taken the black, so I was Lord of Bear Island in my own right. I had no lack of marriage offers, but before I could reach a decision Lord Balon Greyjoy rose in rebellion against the Usurper, and Ned Stark called his banners to help his friend Robert. The final battle was on Pyke. When Robert’s stonethrowers opened a breach in King Balon’s wall, a priest from Myr was the first man through, but I was not far behind. For that I won my knighthood.”

“To celebrate his victory, Robert ordained that a tourney should be held outside Lannisport. It was there I saw Lynesse, a maid half my age. She had come up from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers joust. I could not take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I begged her favor to wear in the tourney, never dreaming she would grant my request, yet she did.”

[...] “What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?”

Ser Jorah smiled sadly. “Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys.” He bowed low. “Sleep well, my queen.”

Dany shivered, and pulled the lionskin tight about her. She looked like me. It explained much that she had not truly understood. He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah’s arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. When she closed her eyes, his face kept changing into Drogo’s.

[...] She had heard the longing in Ser Jorah’s voice when he spoke of his Bear Island. He can never have me, but one day I can give him back his home and honor. That much I can do for him. (ACOK Daenerys I)

As we can see above, the siege of Pyke is brought up to contextualize Jorah and Lynesse's relationship and parallel their relationship with Dany and Jorah's current one. It is there to service Dany's storyline, motivations and relationships - with that backstory, she realizes at that point that, while Jorah loves her, she can't love him back. This makes her feel guilty, so much so that she thinks she has to compensate by bringing him back home. This is also an instance that displays how deeply ingrained patriarchal views are on this universe - because Dany is a woman, she thinks she owes her knight something in return for his protection. The roles of liege and object of desire intersect in a way that wouldn't happen to a king.

But why am I saying all of this? My point is that connections between past and present in ASOIAF matter only to the extent that they say something about our POV characters. The Arianne/Rhaenyra and Arianne/Nymeria comparisons matter only to the extent that they inform Arianne's motivations and storyline, as well as the Jon Snow/Blackfyres one, which informs Catelyn's views on Jon. By contrast, the show brought up the siege in Pyke only so that we would empathize with show!Jorah again, but that was never the main purpose in the books, in which the backstory primarily serviced Dany's character. But then, the show writers are intent on erasing how creepy and disrespectful Jorah's treatment of Dany in the books is.

Also, the only new detail that they added was that Jorah wanted to urinate while Robert was knighting him. Was that really necessary?

BARRISTAN: Robert would have laughed. He was a good man, a great warrior. And a terrible king. I burned away my years fighting for terrible kings.

In the books, Barristan has more conflicted feelings about Robert Baratheon than he ever lets on in the show:

“Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a ... a good knight ... chivalrous, brave ... he spared my life, and the lives of many others ...[”] (ASOS Daenerys VI)

I came to bring Daenerys home. Yet he had lost her, just as he had lost her father and her brother. Even Robert. I failed him too. (ADWD The Queensguard)

And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin's gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar's children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. (ADWD The Kingsguard)

Barristan may admit Robert's value as a knight (highly questionable as it is), praise him for showing mercy to the Targaryen loyalists and be ashamed for "failing" him. At the same time, Barristan still feels anger for the deaths of Rhaegar's children, so much so that he can't stop himself from thinking he would avenge them if he had seen Robert smiling at the sight of their corpses. Also, when he thinks about the people he failed, he thinks that he failed "even Robert", which shows that he had considerably less regard for him than he did either Dany or Rhaegar.

I don't think Barristan would ever call Robert a "good man", and I think his feelings for Robert are particularly important because they inform Barristan's siding with Ned when he asks Robert not to kill Dany, as well as why he chose to follow Viserys (Rhaegar's heir) instead of Stannis (Robert's heir) and why he demands that the Shavepate does not kill Dany's hostages if he is to side with him.

Also, again, Barristan would never share his personal feelings (much less negative ones) about anyone with Jorah.

The infuriating part, though, is this one:

JORAH: You swore an oath.

BARRISTAN: Yes. And a man of honor keeps his vows, even if he's serving a drunk or a lunatic. Just once in my life before it's over, I want to know what it's like to serve with pride, to fight for someone I believe in. Do you believe in her?

JORAH: With all my heart.

First, they portray show!Jorah as a reliable source as to whether we should trust show!Dany or not. While one might argue that these are two different characters, not only the erasure of Jorah's negative behaviors for the sake of an unrequited love story is still disgusting, but Jorah was never a reliable source about Dany in the books.

Second, Barristan's arc is partly about finding out on his own that Dany is a worthy liege after spending years following bad kings:

“...The truth is, I wanted to watch you for a time before pledging you my sword. To make certain that you were not ...”

“... my father’s daughter?” If she was not her father’s daughter, who was she?

“... mad,” he finished. “But I see no taint in you.”  (ASOS Daenerys VI)

“So I am a coin in the hands of some god, is that what you are saying, ser?”

“No,” Ser Barristan replied. “You are the trueborn heir of Westeros. To the end of my days I shall remain your faithful knight, should you find me worthy to bear a sword again. If not, I am content to serve Strong Belwas as his squire.” (ASOS Daenerys VI)

“I flung my sword at Joffrey’s feet and have not touched one since. Only from the hand of my queen will I accept a sword again.”

“As you wish.” Dany took the sword from Brown Ben and offered it hilt first. The old man took it reverently. “Now kneel,�� she told him, “and swear it to my service.”

He went to one knee and lay the blade before her as he said the words. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

“Freedom to starve?” asked Dany sharply. “Freedom to die? Am I a dragon, or a harpy?” Am I mad? Do I have the taint?

“A dragon,” Ser Barristan said with certainty. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

Having show!Barristan ask show!Jorah's opinion on show!Dany diminishes the impact of the passages above, which display his own judgment based on the time he spent on Dany's side.

Having show!Barristan ask show!Jorah's opinion on show!Dany undercuts Barristan's arc. The show writers might have show!Barristan say that he wants to "fight for someone [he] believe[s] in", but that's just lip service; these words ring hollow because we don't see him finding out for himself.

Could the show writers have added an original scene that gives the characters around show!Dany more to do? Of course (though I've argued before that even the scenes focusing on show!Dany are often seen from the viewpoint of her advisors and prevent us from fully experiencing the journey with show!Dany herself). But they should have thought about whether it fits into their characterizations in the books and, if it doesn't, why is that change necessary? What does having show!Barristan not find out on his own that show!Dany is a liege worth following cause besides undermining both Dany's and Barristan's characters? What does having show!Jorah not be a creepy and be a reliable source about show!Dany cause besides making a slaver look better?

Show!Grey Worm's first scene has its strengths. I like how it displays show!Dany's genuine empathy for the Unsullied, as well as show!Grey Worm's admiration for her. The actors gave good performances. There is one departure from the books (that I don't really understand the purpose of; they probably forgot about it), though:

DAENERYS: What is your name?

GREY WORM: Grey Worm.

DAENERYS: Grey Worm...

MISSANDEI: All Unsullied boys are given new names when they are cut ... Grey Worm, Red Flea, Black Rat. Names that remind them what they are ... vermin.

The books go even further on the slavers' dehumanization of the Unsullied:

“This one’s name is Red Flea, your worship.” 

The girl repeated their exchange in the Common Tongue. 

“And yesterday, what was it?” 

“Black Rat, your worship.” 

“The day before?” 

“Brown Flea, your worship.” 

“Before that?” 

“This one does not recall, your worship. Blue Toad, perhaps. Or Blue Worm.”

“Tell her all their names are such,” Kraznys commanded the girl. “It reminds them that by themselves they are vermin. The name disks are thrown in an empty cask at duty’s end, and each dawn plucked up again at random.”

“More madness,” said Arstan, when he heard. “How can any man possibly remember a new name every day?”

“Those who cannot are culled in training, along with those who cannot run all day in full pack, scale a mountain in the black of night, walk across a bed of coals, or slay an infant.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

Not only their names remind them that they are vermin, they are also changed every day so that they lose their sense of individuality.

Even with this change, I'd say that the scene still conveys how unacceptable and cruel the slavers' treatment was.

There are other changes that I find more concerning. The first is the most inconsequential: why is show!Missandei calling show!Dany khaleesi instead of Your Grace? Only Jorah and her khalasar call her by that title in the books. I suppose this is a Doylist issue since s3!Dany was more recognized as "khaleesi" than "Daenerys" by the audience, but it still goes against their characterizations.

The second is that, as I said in my 3.4 review, this scene would have made more sense in Astapor:

One of the first things Dany had done after the fall of Astapor was abolish the custom of giving the Unsullied new slave names every day. Most of those born free had returned to their birth names; those who still remembered them, at least. Others had called themselves after heroes or gods, and sometimes weapons, gems, and even flowers, which resulted in soldiers with some very peculiar names, to Dany’s ears. Grey Worm had remained Grey Worm. When she asked him why, he said, “It is a lucky name. The name this one was born to was accursed. That was the name he had when he was taken for a slave. But Grey Worm is the name this one drew the day Daenerys Stormborn set him free.” (ASOS Daenerys IV)

Dany still had to choose which freedmen would occupy the ruling council, so I assume she stayed in Astapor for a few days. With that in mind, if abolishing the custom of new slave names was one of the first things Dany did after the fall of Astapor, it's much more likely that she did it there rather than on the march to Yunkai. Why couldn't they have written this scene there? Because seeing her leave Astapor makes for a more visually impressive scene, I guess. As I said before, though, it gives weight to the superficial reading that show!Dany only went to the city, took its military force and left (even if we'll later find out that she also installed a ruling council there in 4.5). Being faithful to the books would've prevented any misconception of this sort from happening.

My third and final issue is that this scene is meant to be of secondary importance in the books. As one can see in ASOS Daenerys IV, it only appears as a brief flashback in the context of a scene in which Dany is seen giving Grey Worm military orders. That's because the focus of the chapter is on Dany's character development as a leader and a military tactician (similar to how ASOS Daenerys VI only shows the conquest of Meereen as a brief flashback in the context of Jorah telling Dany that her "sewer rats" won her the city; that's because the focus of the chapter is less on the adrenaline and victory and more on the aftermath of the sack and its negative consequences, intertwined with Dany's personal problems).

One might argue that we could have had both this scene and show!Dany's character development in the next episodes. However, as I will explain in future reviews, the show writers don't care about show!Dany's character development at all, which is why it becomes enough of an issue for me to bring it up.

JORAH: King Robert wanted her dead.

BARRISTAN: Of course he wanted her dead. She's a Targaryen. The last Targaryen.

JORAH: I suppose no one on the small council could speak sense to him.

In this interview with Bryan Cogman, Elio Garcia interprets show!Jorah's actions as if he were "fishing for information about just what Barristan knew about him and his dealings with Varys". That's not an unreasonable guess, but it's another one that does a disservice to Barristan's character. In the books, Barristan only hid information from Dany about Jorah because revealing Jorah's betrayal would mean revealing his identity. If his identity had been already revealed, he would have told her much earlier - that's what happens right after she finds out that he's Barristan Selmy, after all:

“...And since the day you wed Khal Drogo, there has been an informer by your side selling your secrets, trading whispers to the Spider for gold and promises.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

However, because the show writers probably know this, they made another change just as detrimental to Barristan's character:

BARRISTAN: I didn't sit on the small council.

JORAH: No? Doesn't the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard traditionally ...

BARRISTAN: Traditionally, yes, but I killed a dozen of Robert's friends during his rebellion. He didn't want advice on how to govern from a man who had fought for the Mad King. Can't say I minded much. I always hated the politics.

I'm not saying that the Barristan of the books loves the politics or that he's one of the best political players of the books. Far from that. Still, his character development culminates in these realizations:

The gods of Westeros were far away, yet Ser Barristan Selmy paused for a moment to say a silent prayer, asking the Crone to light his way to wisdom. For the children, he told himself. For the city. For my queen. (ADWD The Queensguard)

His queen was the Mother of Dragons; he would not allow her children to come to harm. (ADWD The Kingbreaker)

"You would break King Hizdahr's peace, old man?"

"I would shatter it." Once, long ago, a prince had named him Barristan the Bold. A part of that boy was in him still. (ADWD The Queen's Hand)

Before Dany, Barristan remained silent as he watched Aerys and Robert committing atrocities and abusing their power. After Dany, he's not only revolting against a bad king (Hizdahr), he's also taking on her anti-slavery cause and declaring war against the slavers. That's character development. Siding with Ned against Dany's death was Barristan’s first (albeit small) act of rebellion and the beginning of an arc that will later lead him to fight against slavery because of the very girl whose murder he opposed.

On HBO, not only we'll never see show!Barristan doing any of this (because he'll be killed off earlier), we are seeing him dismiss the importance of political action, which is the very opposite of the ultimate realization of his book counterpart's arc. And what's worse is that all of these changes are being made for the sake of show!Jorah's character.

JORAH: Yeah, I imagine I would, too. Hours spent jabbering about backstabbings and betrayals the world over.

I don't know if show!Jorah reducing politics to "jabbering about backstabbings and betrayals the world over" is necessarily proof that this is what the show writers think. That being said, that dismissal can be considered foreshadowing of how little they will care about adapting Dany's ADWD storyline properly. It can also be interpreted as proof of how they tend to oversimplify the characters according to their basic archetypes. If Jorah and Barristan are warriors, of course they don't care about politics and are friendly with each other (all men are friendly with each other and all women are catty with each other, right? See also: Tyrion/Davos, Jon/Gendry, Sansa/Arya, Dany/Sansa, etc).

BARRISTAN: Mm-hmm. Still, she'll have to wade through that muck if she wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms. She'll have good men around her to advise her, men with experience.

JORAH: Which men do you have in mind?

BARRISTAN: Forgive me, Ser Jorah, for what I'm about to say, but your reputation in Westeros has suffered over the years.

JORAH: It suffered for a reason. I sold men into slavery.

BARRISTAN: I don't know if your presence by her side will help our cause when we go home.

JORAH: Our cause? Forgive me, Ser Barristan, but I was busy defending the khaleesi against King Robert's assassins while you were still bowing to the man.

BARRISTAN: We both want her to rule. Am I wrong?

JORAH: You only joined us a few days ago. I can't speak to your intentions.

BARRISTAN: If we're truly her loyal servants, we will do whatever needs to be done, no matter the cost, no matter our pride.

JORAH: You're not Lord Commander here. You're just another exile. And I take my orders from the queen.

First, I don’t know why the heck would show!Barristan tell show!Jorah rather than show!Dany that Jorah’s presence might not help her cause. Not only it makes him dumb (because show!Jorah obviously wouldn't take that well), it also makes it seem that he likes show!Jorah enough to advise him to leave, which is not true at all in the books, as I've already showed above.

Second, I hate that this exchange makes it seem that show!Jorah feels guilty for selling men into slavery (he doesn't in the books). He was still trying to normalize slavery in 3.1 and 3.3!

I know that fandom tends to praise Bryan Cogman for trying to correct plot holes and for paying attention to the books' events and the show's continuity. That knowledge doesn't mean he necessarily understands the characters well - he certainly does not understand Dany well, and this comment is proof of his ignorance:

“Yeah, it’s probably refreshing for Iain Glen! How many times can he explain something about Essos culture to Dany? ;)”

If he really understood Dany, he would also say that we don't just see Jorah giving Dany knowledge. We also see her retain that knowledge and apply it later, we also see that she has knowledge of her own (because, let's not forget, she has lived in Essos for almost her whole life, certainly for a longer period than Jorah) and we also see her making decisions of her own volition. The misconception that Dany is ignorant and too reliant on the men around her is dismissive of her character, but it unfortunately informs the show's writing of her, for they erase many moments showcasing her intelligence and competence.

He also says that "the Dany stuff is a challenge" because of the lack of material, which is a flimsy excuse - many key scenes of her chapters were cut (see here), even if she doesn't have a lot of chapters in ASOS. Lack of material to adapt was never an issue for anyone in any storyline. The show writers should have been overwhelmed with the amount of material they had and the necessity to select them properly (which they failed to do because they mostly looked at the scenes as plot points).

I'm nitpicking his comments, admittedly, because he also said that (show!)Dany's story is "the rise of a villain". He really doesn't know anything about her.

For this review, there's no comment of mine on any Inside the Episode because D&D's Inside the Episode 3.5 doesn't talk about show!Dany's storyline. I'm not commenting on show!Dany's clothes either because she's wearing the same clothes from episode 3.4 and I've talked about them here.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #barristan selmy #grey worm #asos vs got #asoiaf vs got #jorah mormont #a storm of swords #s3

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javier-djarin · 4 years

Text

Feels Like Yesterday: Chapter 2

Ship: Frankie Morales x Elena Bohannon (OC)

Rating: M

Word Count: 5,276 Words

Warnings: Language

Masterlist

(Gif by @little-ms-fandom)

Summary: Elena comes into town for her brother’s wedding, knowing exactly who is waiting for her when she lands. Her home town is full of memories she and Frankie shared together, and it’s hard to forget all the good times.

A/N: I’ve really enjoyed writing this fic so far, so I hope you like this part! As always, translations for any Spanish phrases will be at the bottom. Please let me know what you think and if you want to be in my tag list!!

“The sun so radiant, he burns so bright. The moon so luminous, but only showed her face during the night. She was untouchable, surrounding herself with a blanket of darkness.”

Elena boarded the plane alone Monday morning. “The office called this morning,” Liam said as they were packing the last few things. “I’ll take the first flight out tonight or tomorrow.”

“The engagement party is on Thursday. Just make sure you make it then,” she said, kissing his cheek. She didn’t look at him as she placed her toiletry bag in her suitcase.

“Hey, ‘Lena,” he said, lightly grabbing her chin, “I’m not angry about last night. Frankie just brings out the worst in us.”

She shook her head and tried to stop the few tears from spilling over. “He brings out the worst in you, Liam. I just want to make sure that you’re actually going to work and you’re not bailing on me because of him.”

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I swear I’m not bailing on you. Besides, do you think I want you down there alone with him?”

Elena tried to laugh, but she couldn’t force it. She knew he was right. There was no way he’d let Frankie anywhere near her. So, now, here she was, doing just that. Boarding a plane to go home, alone. She prayed to God that Frankie was preoccupied somewhere, but she knew Santi. He had something up his sleeve for bringing him home. The people around her slept peacefully, but the entire time they were in the air, her mind raced. The anxiety of running into Frankie after ten years made her sick to her stomach. She had no idea what she was going to say to him, once she inevitably ran into him. Elena wanted to focus on the emotions that were at the forefront: Anger, Hurt, Pain. But, in the deepest part of her soul, excitement reigned. She longed to see him again, talk to him, hold him in her arms. He had robbed her of that opportunity when he wrote her a letter and never returned. Tears fell down her cheeks as she held that exact letter in her hands, running her thumb over the envelope. The woman next to her looked at her and smiled. She has to think I am insane. She thought to herself.

She folded the letter and placed it back in her wallet, leaning back to try to sleep. It was a restless sleep, because all she could dream about was her Sol:

The second David’s car stopped outside their house, Elena ran in, straight to her room. In true dramatic fashion, she threw herself on her bed, burying her face in her pillows and sobbed; sobbing until there was nothing left to sob about. Johnny, her first serious boyfriend, broke up with her. They were supposed to go to homecoming together, but after his summer away, he’d met someone new.

He’d pulled her aside after school to tell her he thought they would be better off as friends. Naturally, she did her best to hold it all together, because she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. He turned and left her standing there to absorb the pain alone. She walked to David’s car and slid into the passenger seat, not saying a word to him on their drive home. Now, she was here in her bed, wishing this day had never happened.

There was a soft knock at her door. “Go away, Mama. I don’t want to talk about it,” she said without looking.

The door slowly creaked open. “Mama sent me up to check on you,” he said.

She wiped her eyes and looked over her shoulder. It was Frankie. He was standing in her doorway with two bottles of Coca-Cola, a bowl of popcorn, and a VHS box in his hand. She couldn’t help but smile at him, standing helplessly in the door. “Movie night?” he sheepishly asked.

“It’s a Tuesday,” she said, wiping her eyes again.

Frankie shrugged and sat on the floor in front of her bed. “So?”

She rolled over so her head was just next to his at the foot of her bed. “What did you grab?” she sniffled.

He handed her the VHS box he’d grabbed from downstairs. “I figured tonight would be a great night to watch our favorite,” he smiled at her.

“You mean my favorite,” she laughed. He’d always found a way to make her laugh. Her Sol, lighting up her world in her darkest hours.

“I never said I didn’t like Casablanca. I just prefer other movies.” Frankie reached for the tape and popped it into the player. She sat up and leaned against her headboard, making room for him to sit by her. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, while she shoveled handfuls of popcorn into her mouth and sipped on her Coke. “How can you hear the movie over your chewing?” he laughed.

She lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “I’ve seen it enough that I don’t need to hear it, mi Sol.”

Elena snuggled against him, feeling safer and more secure than she had in a long time. She had always known how she’d felt about Frankie, but she was so unsure about his feelings towards her. One minute, he’d treat her like she was his world, and the next he’d be with Marilyn. However, it was moments like these that she would cherish. No matter how far apart they drifted, their bond - friendship - was something that she knew they’d never lose.

“Everything she knew or ever became was because of him. And she looked up to him and worshiped him... with a feeling she supposed was love,” Ilsa said to Rick in the movie.

She sheepishly looked up at Frankie, who was too engrossed in the movie to notice. She was in love with Frankie, and each second he held her like this, she would snuggle closer to him.

The plane’s wheels touched down, forcing her awake. She felt tears still on her cheeks as she wiped them away. After waiting for the aisle to clear, she grabbed her carry on bag from the overhead bin and made her way off the plane. David and María were both waiting in baggage claim. She gave them a big smile and ran into their arms the moment she saw them. “Where’s Liam?” María asked.

“Work called at the last minute. He said he’ll definitely make it down for the engagement party on Thursday, and your camp out before the big day!” she replied.

“It’s going to be a blast,” he smiled, “it’s nice that the whole gang will be back together.”

She felt a twinge in her chest, knowing what he meant. If only David knew how much it pained her to know Frankie was back. “I heard Santi invited his whole squad,” she tried to laugh.

María nodded and grinned. “David extended them the invitation. So, they all made it down.”

Elena picked up her bags and followed them out to the car. “So,” she continued the conversation, “how’s the bride to be?”

David groaned. “She’s so stressed.”

María elbowed their brother. “Carla has every right to be stressed. Do you remember my wedding? The tuxedo incident?”

Elena laughed at the memory. The wedding was delayed a full hour while the tailor had to come to the venue with a new suit for the groom. “We honestly all thought he bolted,” she laughed.

Her sister glared at her and then smiled, running a hand across her stomach. “Well, he’s stuck now,” she replied.

Elena squealed in the car, causing David to flinch. “I’m going to be an aunt? Oh! I am so excited!”

“Which means you’ll need to be back down here in a few months. You’re going to be the godmother.”

She danced in her seat with happiness, completely forgetting about the anxiety ridden week ahead of her. “How far along are you?”

“I’m at the end of my first trimester. So figure your shit out up in NYC and come home.”

David sighed. “How are things up in The Big Apple?”

“Great! The restaurant has been doing wonderful,” she replied, “I found some new investors so I could finally repair the rooftop and get that ready for outdoor dining.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“Thanks, David. If that goes well, I might have enough to open a second across town.”

“What will this one be called?” he laughed.

“Luna’s.”

María turned around to face her with a suspicious eyebrow raised. “So you’ll own two restaurants named Sol’s and Luna’s?”

Suddenly, the anxiety she’d forgotten about hit her again. “I don’t want to hear it, María.”

“You do know he’s back in town, right?” she said.

“I said, I don’t want to hear it.”

She turned back around and adjusted her seatbelt. “Santi called us last night to tell us.”

Elena felt her blood boil. “Santi can fuck off,” she replied, crossing her arms, “he knew better than to do this.”

“I asked him to,” David added.

She froze and stared at the back of her brother’s head, sending mental darts into him. “You did what?”

He sighed. “He’s my friend, too, ‘Lena. I miss him. So, for whatever reason you hate him, please just put it aside for this week. Get along for my wedding, and then you can go back to hating him as usual.”

Elena tried to feign a smile at him as she nodded her head to agree with her brother’s terms. “Fine.”

“What happened between you two?” María asked.

She ignored her sister and looked out the window, not wanting to air all of her dirty laundry out in front of her family.

***

Frankie woke up at the crack of dawn, just like he always did. Old Army Habit. He walked downstairs to fix himself some coffee when he saw Pope sneaking in through the backdoor. He looked at the clock on the stove and back to his best friend. “Are you sneaking back into your own house?” he asked, causing him to jump.

“What the fuck are you doing up?”

He held up his coffee mug as an obvious sign before taking a nice long sip. “Damn good, too,” he grinned, “Colombian?”

“Fuck you, Frankie.”

“Seriously, man,” he said, sitting down at his counter, “why are you sneaking in?”

Santi sighed and poured his own cup. “It’s been a long night. Do I really need to do this now?”

Frankie smiled at him and waited for his explanation. “We’re best friends. We don’t hide stuff from each other.”

“Fine.” Santi said, taking a sip of his coffee. “That girl I was on the phone with, on the boat? Yeah, well I just went over to visit last night, and we lost track of the time.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You literally snuck out last night to get laid? We didn’t go to bed until almost one.”

Santi shrugged. “Yeah, so? She doesn’t live far from here.”

He watched Frankie do the math in his head, slowly remembering who lived in the area. This subdivision specifically. He remembered in passing that Santiago said various people they grew up with had bought houses around him. Marilyn, Catherine, and… “Oh my God,” he grinned.

“It’s not who you think,” Santi said, almost too fast, “so don’t even start guessing.”

“You and Rae?” Frankie started laughing.

Santi grinned and looked at his cup, swirling it as if he was trying to “mix” it.

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Santi lied.

“Santi, man, how long?”

He pretended to frown and rolled his eyes as if he was pondering the question before saying too fast. “Senior year.”

Frankie’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“It’s nothing serious. Just sorta an on again, off again thing. Neither of us want anything more than that, really. Especially since I’m always gone, down south.”

He shook his head and took another drink of coffee. “I never would have pegged either of you doing this in a million years.”

Santiago looked at him with a heartfelt smile. “Is it because we all were focused on you and Elena?”

Suddenly, Frankie’s demeanor changed. His muscles went stiff and he stared straight ahead through the window over the kitchen sink. “Come on, Pope. We were just having a good time. Why did you have to bring that up?”

He grabbed both of their mugs and set them in the sink before facing Frankie again. “Because, Cat, her plane lands in a few hours and you need to figure your shit out.”

He sighed and ran his hair through his bed head. “You said she’s happy with a boyfriend in New York. I’m not going to ruin that for her.”

“Frankie,” Pope said, leaning against the counter, “She’ll never actually be happy until you talk to her. You left her a letter and then abandoned her. She still walks around the house and looks at pictures of the two of you with tears in her eyes.”

“She does?” He asked, almost hopeful.

“Well, sorta. She puts them face down when she sees them,” he said as he watched Frankie deflate a little, “but that means she still is hurting. Which means she still has those feelings.”

Frankie shook his head. “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

“Start with an apology.”

“She’s going to want an explanation, and I can’t give her that,” he said, standing up.

They both heard the TV turn on, which meant someone was in the living room. Frankie froze when he heard an all too familiar voice come from the television:

“Play it once, Sam, for old time’s sake,” Ilsa said.

“I don’t know what you mean Miss Ilsa,” he replied.

“Play it, Sam. Play ‘As Time Goes By’.”

Frankie wandered into the living room that was now empty. He saw the light on, underneath the door of the half bath adjacent to the room, and so he continued to watch. Sam started to play their song, and Ilsa hummed along, matching every note perfectly. Frankie could feel his heart ache as he watched her favorite scene. “It’s so romantic the way he looks at her for the first time in years.” She had said to him. “The look on both of their faces displays so many emotions that you can almost feel the pain and love.” It was such a perfect and heart wrenching scene to watch:

The door to the gambling room opens. Rick comes swinging out. He’s heard the music and he’s livid. Sam continues singing. Rick briskly walks up to the piano, “Sam, I thought I told you never to play…” As he sees Ilsa he stops short. Sam stops playing. Two close-ups reveal Ilsa and Rick seeing each other. Rick appears shocked. For a long moment he just looks at her.

He heard the toilet flush and the sink run, pulling him away from the TV as Will stepped out into the living room. “Are you seriously watching this shit?” he laughed.

Frankie shrugged. “It’s a good movie, if you watch it all the way through.”

Will shook his head. “I have. Hate the ending.”

“He just loves her enough to let her go,” he said, feeling that same tug on his heart strings, “to help her stay safe.”

Pope walked into the living room. “You say that now,” he said, slapping him on the back, “I know a little about women, my friend. She went, but she knew you were lying.”

Frankie shook her head. “How many times have you watched this movie to quote Renault?”

He laughed and started walking upstairs. “Tell your Luna thanks for that.”

***

Elena unpacked her bags in the guest house on her family’s ranch and walked back up to the main house. Her mother, Gloria, was busy starting her usual five course meal, making the house smell like her childhood. She closed her eyes and let the aroma take her back to the time she was much younger. Her father was still alive, and he’d run in behind her, scooping her up in his arms, tickling her as he brought her into the dining room. Frankie was always close behind him. He looked up to Elliott so much, and she remembered how much it destroyed him when he died shortly after they took Frankie in. Elena wished that she could go back to those simpler times before everything turned to shit.

“‘Lena, ¿Eres tu?” she heard her mother ask.

“Sí, Mama. Huele delicioso aquí.”

“Gracias, mi amor,” she said, not turning to look as she stirred something on the stove. “How was your flight?”

Elena took a deep breath and sat down at the table. “Long.”

“Where’s Liam?” she said, wiping her hands on the rag on her shoulder before pouring her a glass of tea.

“He had to work,” she replied, “he said he’ll be down before Thursday.”

Gloria sighed. “Work?”

Elena nodded and looked into her glass of tea.

“It’s always work with him,” she said, looking over her glasses at her daughter. She stared at her with the same look she’d see in the mirror occasionally. The only exception was the eyes. Gloria had dark, chocolate brown eyes. Whereas, Elena’s father had beautiful emerald green eyes that he’d graciously passed on to her. “Is he ever going to come down here for the entire vacation without having to work?”

She shrugged. “At least he was able to get off for the wedding,” Elena replied.

“When are you going to stop making excuses for him?” Gloria said. She felt her pulse pick up. This was a normal discussion she and her mother frequently had about Liam. “I’m not, Mama. He’s an executive for a major publishing company. Life in New York is different from life here. I don’t want to have to defend him from you every time I visit!”

Her mother let out a long breath and grabbed her own glass of tea for a drink before returning to the pot on the stove. “I’m sorry, mija. I just want you to be happy with someone who loves you more than their job.”

“I am, Mama. He does love me more than his job. But taking a week off when you work for other people, is a lot to ask of someone. I’m fortunate enough to have an amazing general manager that can keep my restaurant from burning down while I’m gone.”

“When was the last time he took you somewhere and didn’t have to report into work while you were away?” She asked, stirring the pot some more before adding a little salt.

Elena didn’t want to think back over the countless vacations they’d taken, because she knew that she’d come up with an answer her mother wanted. Instead, she stood. “Tell Antonio I said hi,” she said, “I’m meeting Rae for lunch.”

“Dinner is at six,” Gloria said with her back turned to her.

***

Rae was sitting at their usual table in the local diner waiting for Elena when her phone rang. “Hello,” she said, without looking at the caller ID.

“Is she on her way?” Santi asked.

She pretended to glare at him as if he were right in front of her. “Santi, do not come to the diner. Let her at least destress before you turn her world upside down.”

“Pope, who the fuck you talkin’ to?” she heard someone yell in the background.

“Probably one of his ‘informants’.”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Are you bringing the entire crew?”

“It was the only way to get Frankie to come. I think he knows I am up to something.”

“Because you are, Santi,” she sighed.

She heard him tell Benny to fuck off before returning to their conversation. “Oh, and Frankie knows I was at your house last night.”

Rae ran her hand down her face. “Great.” She looked up and saw Elena walk in. “Gotta go, ‘Lena’s here.”

Elena immediately saw Rae and headed for her table. Rae stood up and wrapped her in a big hug before they took their seats opposite each other. “So,” Rae said, “Do we just want to talk about it now, or wait until we’ve had our food and you sit there and freak out to yourself in silence for a little while?”

She glared at her. “I guess you just get right to the point,” she said, “I’ve honestly made peace with this week.”

“Sure you have,” Rae said, not believing her.

“I have,” Elena continued, “It’s going to happen whether I want it to or not. Besides, David made me promise to put my feelings aside this week and get along with him for the wedding. So, if I run into him, I have to play nice.”

Rae laughed a little and sipped on her coffee. “We both know that’s all a huge lie,” she said.

She ran her fingers through her hair and let out a low groan. “I’ve decided to just not bring it up,” she replied, “it’s been ten years. Liam and I are together now; I’m finally happy. What good will it do to bring up what happened?”

“You’re right,” Rae agreed, “what good would that do? I mean the only reason you’d bring up something like that, something that has been eating away at you for over ten years, is if you still had feelings for him.”

Elena looked up from her cup of coffee and glared again. “I don’t have feelings for him.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“I mean, we aren’t even the same people we were ten years ago. How could I still have feelings for someone I don’t even know anymore?”

Rae smiled at her over her mug. “Because you know he hasn’t changed at all.”

The door opened and a group of rowdy men entered the establishment. “Elena!” she heard someone exclaim.

She turned and looked to the door and saw Will and Santi before turning to look back at Rae. “What have you done?” she asked.

Rae shook her head. “This was all your brother. I told Santi no, but he doesn’t listen to me.”

Elena was happy to see Will again. Thanks to Santi always bringing them around, she’d grown rather close with his crew. Maybe he’d be able to keep her distracted and away from Frankie. She looked behind him and didn’t see any sign of him, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief. She stood up and waited for her usual bear hugs from the guys.

Frankie saw her before he walked into the diner. She was standing there with her arms spread wide, obviously waiting for a hug from Santiago. He stopped in his tracks when he looked at her. She was just as beautiful as he remembered. “Cat,” Tom said to him, “what’s wrong?”

“I - I can’t do this,” he said, suddenly being hit with every emotion he’s ever felt for her.

“Do what?”

Frankie saw in the window that Pope was watching him, and he knew he’d come after him if he tried to bolt. This was bound to happen, and honestly, he did want to see her again. He wanted to talk to her, hug her, hear her laugh. But he was afraid of facing the mistake he had made ten years ago. His heart raced and he felt the color leave his face the closer he walked to the door, until finally he was inside the diner. Frozen in place as their eyes met. His heart stopped and he couldn’t breathe. It was just like her favorite scene. He was sure he looked just like Rick with the pain and love all over his face when he saw Ilsa for the first time. Except on her face was nothing but pain; pain he’d caused by being a jackass. He saw Will beeline for her as he wrapped his arms around her and spun her. Jealousy instantly replaced every emotion he felt. She was his Luna. What the fuck did she mean to Will for him to hold her so intimately?

Elena tried to ignore the fact that Frankie was standing in the same room as her as Will wrapped his arms around her for a big hug. Honestly, she loved it. Especially when she saw a familiar look return to Frankie’s face. Her eyes lit up and she laughed as Will kissed her cheek. “It’s about time you make it back down here,” he said.

“Restaurant’s been keeping me so busy, I hardly have time for a day off,” she laughed.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that Frankie was finally moving closer. “Well, you look good. Like real good. You still with that fella of yours?”

She felt her heart race when Frankie was close enough to hear. “Yeah,” she said nervously.

“Damn,” Will said, “I was hoping I’d have a date for David’s wedding.” He winked at her, and she saw Frankie behind him tense up.

Elena continued to ignore him as she put all of her attention on the other guys. Benny was up next, wrapping her in a hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said, “We’ve missed you, and your cooking.”

She laughed. “I guess you’ll have to stop by this week for a nice Texas style breakfast.”

Benny winked at her. “I wish I could wake up to that every morning.”

“Take a number, Benny,” Will laughed, shoving his brother.

She shook her head and smiled at them. She walked past Frankie without so much as a look at him while she hugged Tom. “Pope didn’t say we’d be meeting two beautiful ladies for lunch,” he grinned.

Elena rolled her eyes at him. “Ever the gentleman,” she said.

She looked over at Santi, thankful the others couldn’t see the death glare she was giving him as she wrapped her arms around him - a little too tight. “Fuck you, Santi,” she whispered.

He smiled as he hugged her, looking at a distraught Frankie. “Glad to see you too, sis.”

She let go of him, and turned away. But not before giving him another glare. Frankie was the last one, and he attempted at a smile for her. Elena felt her heart race, feeling herself start to forgive him, but she stopped. All she did was nod at him. “Frankie,” she said, before sliding in the booth.

It was actually nicer than what he’d expected from her. So, he returned the gesture and muttered, “Luna.”

Her eyes shot up at him, almost offended that he’d used her nickname. Will looked between the two of them as he slid into the booth next to her, finally putting it all together. He looked back at Santiago who just nodded to confirm what he heard. Rae let Frankie slide in across from her as Benny, Tom, and Santi grabbed a table to put up next to theirs. Will, so as to not give away he knew what was happening between Frankie and Elena, opted to act like everything was normal. He threw his arm around her shoulders and hugged her again. “So, where is the lucky bastard?” he asked.

That seemed to bring her out of her daze and she looked at Will. “He had to work, but don’t worry,” she said without looking at Frankie, “he’ll be here in time for everything. He said he was going to catch the first flight out tomorrow.”

Santiago smiled at Rae when he heard that Liam was not here. He leaned closer to her and whispered. “Even better.”

She elbowed him in the side to shut him up.

“Luna,” Frankie said, trying to get her attention, but she wanted nothing to do with him. His heart ached even more as he watched her give Will her undivided attention. He was ready to reach across the table and punch Will in the face for ever thinking about touching his Luna, for captivating her attention so well that she didn’t even realize he was sitting right in front of her.

Rae leaned over to Frankie and whispered, “It’s good to see you, Frankie.”

He smiled at her and gave her a side hug. She looked at the sadness in his eyes and it pained her to see one of her dearest friends suffering the way he was. Santi was right: he was a miserable fuck. But she knew her best friend. Elena was too stubborn for her own good, and if she wanted to ignore Frankie, she was going to do exactly that.

“It’s nice to see someone take care of Pope while he’s back home,” he whispered back.

She laughed and shook her head. “I’m thrilled you know.”

He saw Elena sneak a glance at him through the corner of his eye, and he immediately turned his attention back to her. But she’d gone back to looking at Will. “Luna,” he said again, but she continued to ignore him, forcing him to listen to her and Will’s flirty conversation.

“He always is working,” Will complained.

She sighed and nodded. “I know, but I made him promise to leave the work at home before he comes down.”

Benny leaned over and smiled at her. “So, whenever you get sick of it, does that mean I can move into your fancy apartment so I can wake up to your cooking everyday?”

Elena laughed at him. “I thought Will said to take a number,” she replied with a wink.

Santiago leaned in, trying to help Frankie out. “Alright, fellas, leave her alone. I’m tired of always watching you harass mi hermana.”

Will laughed and rolled his eyes before leaning down to whisper something in her ear that only she could hear. Frankie felt jealousy rise in him as he watched her blush and then smile. He glared at him, hard - sending daggers straight through someone he would gladly die for on the battlefield.

The conversation turned to the other end of the table as everyone caught up. He’d missed so much, including his squad growing close with his childhood gang. She was only listening to the conversation, and now was as good of a time as any to get her attention. Frankie longed to reach out and touch her hand, but he knew that would just cause a scene if he did. So, he figured third time’s a charm. “Luna,” he said a little louder, but not loud enough to disrupt the conversation.

She finally turned and looked at him, hurt and pain overflowing in her eyes. “What?” she curtly replied.

Rae was the only one paying attention to them.

“It’s…uh,” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “It’s good to see you,” he said softly.

She huffed at him and finally turned completely to face him. “I wish I could say the same,” she replied.

Rae gave her a scolding look and mouthed “play nice” to her, but she ignored her.

“I’m sorry, mi Luna,” his voice cracking a little.

Elena felt her chest tighten and she looked out the window. She was afraid that if she continued looking at him that the flood gates would burst.

“I wish I could tell you how sorry I really am.”

Her head snapped back and she glared at him. “Just write it in a letter and then leave,” she said, “you’re good at that.” She motioned for Will and Benny to move so she could scoot out of the booth as she briskly made her way to the restroom.

Translations

¿Eres tu? - Is that you?

Sí, Mama. Huele delicioso aquí. - Yes, Mama. It smells delicious in here.

Tag List

@magneticbucky @wickedfrsgrl @wander-lustbabe @pedropascalownsmyheart @frietiemeloen @larakasser

#Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #Frankie Morales x OC #Feels Like Yesterday #Triple Frontier

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haru-desune · 4 years

Text

Grimmtober Day 31: The Robber Bridegroom

One of them noticed a gold ring on the murdered girl's little finger. Because it did not come off easily, he took an ax and chopped the finger off, but it flew into the air and over the barrel, falling right into the bride's lap.

A spooky one to celebrate the last day of Grimmtober! Content warnings for women in peril, cannibalism, murder, mutilation, and gore. This is a story of ATU type 955, and it is told like this:

Once there was a miller who had a beautiful daughter of marriageable age. He decided he would get her married to the first suitable groom who passed by. Soon there came a wealthy man who seemed of good sorts, and the betrothal was set. However, the man left the young bride with a deep sense of unease which she could not place.

At first, all was well, as they stayed apart, but eventually, the bridegroom asked the woman why she wouldn't visit him though they had been betrothed for several months. First, she tried to say that she did not know where he lived, but he told her he lived in the middle of the forest.

This only strengthened her unease, and she tried to excuse herself by saying she wouldn't know how to find it. But the Bridegroom said that he'd leave a trail of ashes for her to follow. Unable to put it off anymore, she agreed.

The time came for the young bride to visit the house, and she set off into the forest with a pocket full of peas and lentils, dropping one along the path as she walked. Eventually, she came across a lonely old house and she was filled with an even greater sense of dread.

As she entered a bird in a cage in the corner of the first room warned her away, telling her that she was in a murderer's house. She ignored the warning and ventured forth. Every room she passed was empty. Finally, she came to the cellar, where she found an old woman tending to a cauldron.

The old woman told her that this was a house of cabalistic robbers, of which her bridegroom was the leader, who were certain to have her killed and eaten if she married into the household. The old woman hid her away behind a large cask of wine and promised that she would help her escape that night, for she too was looking for a way to leave the house.

No sooner had she done this, than the door opened and the band of robbers returned, carrying a struggling young woman. They made her drink three glasses of wine, red, white, and yellow, and she fell down dead. They then stripped the body of jewels and finery, chopped her up, and cooked her to eat.

As they ate, one of the robbers noticed a gold ring on a finger of the body. It was not easy to remove, so he took an axe and chopped off the finger. But the finger flew into the air and landed in the lap of the bride behind the cask. The robbers searched the room but were unable to find the finger. Just as they were to check behind the cask, the old woman convinced them to give up the search, as the finger wasn't likely to run away in the night.

The woman then drugged the robbers' wine, and once they were all asleep, she and the young bride snuck away. The trail of ashes was destroyed, but the peas and lentils had sprouted enough for them to find their way out of the forest. The girl ran home and told her father everything.

On the day of the wedding, the bridegroom and his gang arrived, along with a large number of other guests, as the miller had invited all of his friends and relatives. At the wedding feast, each was asked to tell a story, and the bride sat through it all in silence. Then the groom urged her to tell a story of her own, so she told the story of her adventure in the robbers' house - but she framed it as though it was something she experienced in the dream.

After each sentence she spoke, the robber tried to say that it was only a dream, but then she mentioned the finger with the golden ring and pulled out the same finger as evidence. The robber went pale and tried to run away, but he and his band were caught by the rest of the wedding guests and turned over to the courts. He and his entire band were executed for their crimes.

How's that for a Halloween tale?! This was first published in Children's and Household Tales, though I can't imagine reading it to any child today. It certainly makes for a grim bedtime story (pun fully intended).

I was originally going to do Bluebeard for today's tale, which was in the original Grimm's fairytales. However, the Grimms took their version of the story out of subsequent printings as they felt it belonged more to the French storytelling tradition. It's really hard to find their version online - most of the ones I found are just Perrault's tale attributed to the Grimms - and it looks like you may only be able to read it if you're lucky enough to find it in print. The Jack Zipes translation is supposed to be quite good. I did find this cool blog post comparing the two though if you are interested.

The Robber Bridegroom has a lot of similarities to Bluebeard and other ATU 312 tales. However, it isn't the "sin" of curiosity (The blog I linked has a good point to make about that in the Grimm version vs the Perrault version of Bluebeard) that gets the girl in trouble. She finds herself in danger because she ignores her gut feeling and more explicit warnings. At the same time, it is her quick wit, and, importantly, the help of the old lady - another woman in a similar situation as the bride.

Looking at folklore and fairy tales through a feminist lens can be tricky. Many stories either fall into a "Woman as a prize/prop/victim" category or exist in a sort of grey area in terms of agency. Part of this is because of the tropey nature of the tales - you're literally working with archetypes and stock characters. In most cases, unless the character is the protagonist, they're not going to be particularly fleshed out. So it's no real coincidence that the Grimm stories that give the most agency to women are usually the ones where the women are the protagonists (this one, Seven Ravens, and even to an extent the original Cinderella for example).

There's also the time period to take into account. Most folk/fairy tales were meant to educate as much as they were meant to entertain. Your protagonists should have traits that you want your children to emulate. So the view of femininity and the woman's role in society at the time will play a part in how women are portrayed in folktales. (There are a lot of papers out there that explain it better than me). Looking at it from a modern lens, I see this as a story about a girl who got bad vibes about her finance, was proven right on further investigation, and managed to bring him to justice with the help of another victim of his abuse. What did it represent to women in the 19th century?

On a lighter note: I can't end the month of Grimmtober without my usual PSA for today's shitty parent - our buddy the miller. Would it kill you to do a background check on your future son-in-law? Rich dude comes up to your door, no background or history, lives in a spooky house in the woods with a bunch of friends, no apparent job to speak of, and you're like "yeah seems legit"? Maybe a house call, or asking around if anyone knows the dude, anything before marrying off your only child. YIKES, my man. Big Yikes.