#anyways it's called the feast of tongues and you should listen to it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writer-akihiko · 3 years

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Can I request Leona winning Fem!Mc heart out of all of the dorm leaders? like they all propose to her and she chooses him?

A Lion Just For Me - Leona X Reader

This ask made me so giddy, I hope you appreciate this piece!

The day after your birthday, was undeniably the most chaotic day in NRC that they'd ever seen.

It was an all out war.

~○~

Leona as usual, was in bed despite the late afternoon. However, this time, he didn't want to be the lazy lion he usually was. Yesterday… on your birthday… He messed up. He planned the entire proposal during that time, and yet… he didn't. He didn't ask you.

"So… You didn't ask her?" Ruggie repeated, folding the scattered cloths on the floor. Leona groaned again, shuffling in the sheets.

"No… because I was too nervous…"

"Mhm… and you've been repeating that for the past 2 hours…" Ruggie sighed. The ring Leona prepared for you was left on the bedside, as well as a small paper with Leona's proposal script underneath it. He didn't know how he chickened out so fast. The date night was going so well… but perhaps it wasn't.

Maybe you didn't want a thrown-away spoilt prince like him. Maybe you didn't even deserve someone like him. Maybe… Maybe you wouldn't even want to marry him. Maybe… Maybe it was useless…

"Oh? How strange… Quite odd to see a sad Kingscholar…"

Leona for once sat up straight. He sneered at the two figures that were at his door. "Vil… and Rook… What the hell do you want?"

Vil, who was observing his nails meticulously, curtly replied. "YN LN huh? I wanted to confirm for myself if you were still pursuing her. I have to make sure after all because she's my bride too!"

"HAH?!"

Ruggie sighed. "They assumed your date didn't work out so I bet all the hot shots of the school are gonna propose to her."

"Not 'going to'. If I'm not mistaken… Al-Asim and Ashengrotto are on their way…"

~○~

You, as usual, decided to eat outside with Grim. He was having a feast as usual, and you were spoiling him with treats. You weren't your usual enthusiastic self though. There was a particular lion of yours that you missed… You hadn't seen him all day, so you wondered if he was alright.

"YN? Is that you?"

A sudden call broke your thoughts. Grim, who was still munching on his sandwich, was nowhere to be found… You looked up, meeting Trey and Cater's gazes. They both bowed deeply to you, and Trey extended his hand to you. "We're here to escort you to Riddle. He asked for you."

You followed, after quickly packing your things. You're sure that Grim would find you later… And you should go to Savanaclaw after this too for Leona. You went along with it, under the premise that it was an urgent situation.

To your surprise, it was a fairly elegant tea party, with Riddle at the head of the table. "YN! Cater, you should've announced her in!"

Cater said his half-hearted sorries, pulling a chair for you right next to Riddle. "What's the occasion?"

Riddle's face flushed, his hands fumbling through his pockets. "I… I tried to do things perfectly for you of course! Accept it cordially!" He said, a small box in his hand.

"YN, I love you, with all my heart," Riddle said, getting on one knee, extending his arm with a box revealing a red, heart shaped gem on a gold ring band. "Will you stand next to me, as the King to the Queen?"

"Riddle… I-"

The reply was quickly cut off by… Kalim and Jamil on brooms… How could this day get any weirder?! Kalim hopped off his broom, dashing to you as Jamil gently carried a silk pillow with a thin gold chain entangled with orange and green crystals intertwined with the chain.

"HOLD UP!" Kalim held his hands up, shoving Riddle aside from flying into an outrage. "I haven't had my input!"

Kalim was on his knees, the pillow handed over to him. He presented the bracelet to you, "YN, YN, my gorgeous desert lotus… I've waited for this moment. I searched for you throughout the school, but besides that… I want you to be my Zahra, YN. For now and forever."

"W-Wait…" You crossed your arms to prevent any jewelry slipping onto your hands or fingers. "Are you both proposing to me at the same time?"

"Yes," They said in unison.

"I ca-"

…Silver and Sebek just had to snatch you up. You didn't scream, it wasn't as if they were going to harm you. At least they got you out of that awkward situation… Now to deal with Malleus… You had the gist of what was going on, but your heart wasn't prepared.

"Silver! Don't drop Waka-sama's bride!"

Soon, you landed in another part of the school's field and Malleus was there, holding a wreath of what seemed to you as dark branches with speckles of green on the tips. The tips were pointed as the spokes, which made it look like a tiara…

"There you are, my human," He said, his tall figure looming over you. "This crown… If you wear it, you will be my queen of the Valley of Thorns and you will rule over all of Fae kind."

His hand circled your wrist, bringing his lips to kiss the front of your hand. "Please, consider my feelings… YN."

"Move back YN!"

On instinct, you did and before you knew it, the Diasomnia quartet were dumped with… water… Oh dear. Two pairs of arms snatched you away, leaving Malleus and the other three looking like pitiful drowned cats. Cat… Where is Leona?!

"Azul?!"

The Tweels presented you to Azul, who was waiting for you by the balcony. If you listened closely, you could hear Sebek yelling at the senior Octavinelle twins, most likely for drenching Waka-sama.

Azul was not the sharp, calm and collected Dorm Leader you saw on the first day of school. He was blushing, his cheeks pink and his hands shaking as he held a pearl necklace, with an octopus charm in the middle.

"YN, this is very ungentlemanly of me, but I had to get you away from that Fae," He defended himself, as you looked beyond the balcony to see if the Diasomnia Quartet were alright.

"Don't blame Azul," Jade bowed to you.

Floyd bowed as well, tipping his hat to you. "It was our idea~"

"A-Anyway!" He coughed, catching your attention. "This necklace… Angelfish, if you accept my love, please wear it. It's a symbol of our union, and in your terms… you and I would be married. If you truly love me then-"

THWIP!

An arrow got in the way between you and Azul. And… you were carried off by your waist by Rook. "Ah~ Fabulous shot from me, but unfortunately I must play with you another day Roi d'Effort!"

Vil and Epel in the garden, with a very annoyed Epel. Actually… you were very much annoyed too. You kept your composure though, they were your friends too. Vil wasn't wearing his uniform, instead wearing a pure white coat where the ends extended to the ground, mimicking a dress. Well… you'd be lying if you weren't stunned by his beauty.

Vil had a small purple velvet box in his hand, and the moment Rook released you from his arms, Epel took your hand and guided you to the centre of the garden. Vil was already waiting, and when you were by his side, he revealed a lavender coloured gem encircled by a silver band.

"YN, my little sweet potato," He took a deep breath. "I understand that we have differences, but you complete me. I want you to be by my side, to complete each other for I love you, LN YN."

You took Vil's hand, closing the box. "Vil, I know-"

"I have to interrupt this moment."

There was Ortho, pushing aside Rook and Epel. Epel at this point didn't care, but kept his tongue shut as Rook warned you and Vil him.

It was not as quick as Ortho, who had a grip on your waist, and soon, you were flying. The flight was short though, as Ortho landed to where you remembered having your lunch. You didn't know what he was looking for, but Ortho called out the bushes.

"Idia-nii… Please get out of the bushes."

After some time of rustling, Idia pops out of the bushes, his hand gripping to an expensive looking box. He tumbled on his steps, and you rushed to help him up. "Idia! Are you okay?"

He opened the box, with a dark blue gem sitting in the middle of the box. "Y-Yeah… but I… I might feel better if you accept my proposal, so… Marry me?"

Idia this time… was interrupted by the other Dorm Leaders rushing towards you. Riddle and Kalim were still butting heads, and so were Azul and Vil. Malleus was glaring at Azul, and Idia was glaring at the rest of them for interrupting his proposal. It blew up into an argument about who had the right to propose, and who was being selfish.

"HEY! GET AWAY FROM MY GIRLFRIEND!"

There was only one person you knew who could roar like that, and that was…

"LEONA!"

With tears at the corners of your eyes, you ran and jumped into the arms of your lion. He spun you around, laughing as he finally had you in his arms, where you belonged. He set you down, not hesitating to get on his knees.

"YN, my little herbivore YN… I'm sorry I was such a coward yesterday," He said, opening the box with a golden ring inside. "I meant to do this. I'm sorry for doubting myself, and I'm sorry doubting your love. I'd never run from you again, so will you marry-"

He never finished his sentence, as you tackled him to the ground. "Yes! Yes yes yes Leona I'll marry you!" You laughed. Leona, for a time in his life, cried tears of joy, swinging you around as he boasted about his success to everyone.

When your feet met the ground, you turned to the Dorm Leaders. You bowed to them, "Everyone… I appreciate your feelings, but Leona's the one for me," You said. "I… I'm sorry I never noticed any of your feelings, but please support my love as I would yours."

They all nodded, some with a few tears, and some with smiles on their faces.

"YN…" Leona pulled you in, slipping the ring on your finger. "Gosh I love you…"

#twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #twst leona #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland leona #twst dorm leaders #twst leona kingscholar #twst x reader

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Gift of Nature

Kinktober 2020 — oviposition

A/N: my main kink is making usually “hard" kinks soft...

Pairing: naga!Daishou Suguru x reader

Description: "Nature always remembers.”

Warning: oviposition, vaginal penetration, oral (receiving), belly bulge, breeding kink, mentions of abandonment, far too much plot considering how this was supposed to be porn

Word count: 7362

The village held a celebration when the team of huntsmen came back with their catch.

Everyone rushed out of their houses at the triumphant horns that signaled their arrival, the rumours of what they had caught already spread like wildfire among people when the first messenger that was sent running back from the depths of the forest to the chief of the village came back panting, speaking to the chief in low whispers only to have the old man let out an audible gasp.

You heard the women of the village say that it was the first time they had ever seen the chief that shocked around the laundry basket that evening.

People gathered around the road at the center of the village that reached to the chief’s house, murmuring to themselves as the footsteps of the huntsmen neared. The first screak from the crowd was followed by an echo of gasps and exclaims that rose and fell as the men walked past. They had their heads up to the sky, their feet dragging along the ground as if they were deliberately slowing down their steps to bask in the reactions from the villagers.

You were at the very back of the crowd when it all happened, as you always were whenever anything big happened in the village.

Your parents were traveling merchants would reach the village many many years ago, disappearing one night leaving nothing but a crying child behind. You were taken in by a family that didn’t have their own child but still, there was this thing about being the village’s orphan, and it was that there was no one you could turn to that would possibly favour you over the actual children of the village. Even if they say everyone was supposed to work a fair share, who could you tell on if your fellow workers dropped all their remaining work to you the moment they heard the crowd gathering outside?

Getting on your tiptoes, you peeked from behind the shoulders of the many people standing in front of you like a wall. You could barely see what was going on in front, only seeing the top of people’s heads. The sound of something heavy being dragged along the muddy ground got near, and soon the people that could see it got loud.

“I thought the gossips were fake!”

“I can’t believe they actually caught that...”

The people said between bewildered gasps and mocking cackles and you tried to slip through the gaps between bodies to no avail. You finally caught a glimpse of the creature when the crowd slowly moved apart as the huntsmen passed, starting another round of the same echoes with the people from down the road.

People would talk about the creature all throughout the day as the great feast commemorating this great feat was in preparation, each person’s description of the fearsome creature that the huntsmen had trapped and brought back wildly different from another's.

You did not join in on the arguments about whether the scales on the creature’s snake-like body was green or brown, or the growingly cruel laughs about what they should do with the creature once the celebrations were over. They asked you if you had seen the creature, only for the question to be brushed off with shrieking laughers before you could even part your lips.

You did not mind, you were not going to give an answer they would be happy about anyways. For it was not the shiny scales or chillingly human torso that you remembered, but he sheer loathing in the creature’s glowing eyes that remained in the blank darkness of your mind, vivid in your head each time you did so little as blink your eyes.

The huntsmen that caught the naga were treated as heroes during the feast.

There were food and wine, a luxury that was rarely seen for a village as humble as yours unless there was a wedding or to celebrate the yearly harvest. The leading huntsmen, a tall man who wielded his bow wherever he went, got louder and louder with each mug of wine he poured down his throat. He kept recounting how he (”with the help of my brothers, of course,” he would always add about midway through his yells), with his bravery and wits, was able to trap the usually sly and tactful creature.

You took a sip of your honeyed wine every time the crowd cheered as he recalled, with a dramatic rise of his voice, of how with a moment of great reflex, he stabbed the naga before it could leap on him to sink its venomous fangs into his skin. The same story got old if you kept listening to it throughout the night, and his story kept getting more and more exaggerated with each time he opened his mouth. You looked around the people near you, wondering if they also caught onto the fact that his tale was starting to feel off, but all you turned your gaze back to the burgundy liquid in your mug when all you saw was how they all seemed drunk in pride of their fellow villagers great deed.

You looked around, before slowly backing out of the long table you were seated at. The last thing you heard before you paced away along the road towards the direction of your home was the roars of the crowd following a raise of the huntsman’s jug to the starry sky.

“Tomorrow at dusk, we will skin the creature and let what was remained of it be a proud relic of our village’s history!”

The village was quiet with everyone gathering at the town square for the feast, all the huts and houses along the way empty and dark. Your steps quickened, guided by nothing but the twinkling of stars above your head.

Until you saw a slither of light spilling out from the hut at the far corner of your vision.

There could only be one reason why there was a room still lighted when everyone was away...

Tentatively walking close, you looked around to see if anyone was guarding the hut. You raised your eyebrows up in question when you realised that you were all alone with no one in sight, not even from afar. The way they talked about the catch like it was a monumental moment in human civilisation, you would think they might try to be a little more cautious with it. You paused right outside the door, feeling chills running down your spine at the thought of what was inside.

You still remembered its eyes, and you wondered if it would haunt you if those eyes were cast upon you.

You gulped, swallowing your nerves. Just one look, you thought to yourself as your finger hoovered against the wooden door, just a peek and you would go...

“What do you think you’re doing, little one?"

You clasped your hands around your lips at the squeak that was near slipping out, your eyes widening as you stood there with your back straight, frozen in fear at being caught.

“I felt you walking near from miles away so no reason to back away now,” the voice rang again, a soft hiss following the last syllable, “promise I don’t bite.”

This was wrong, you should not even be here. If anyone in the village knew you got near the hut let alone talk to the naga, the talk would be endless. Silence loomed the chilly air, a hint of anticipation thickening your breathes as you felt the naga waiting for you to go inside. Your face was burning, your mind in a state of blank and your hands feeling clammy at your sides.

You thought of the naga’s eyes, the slither of gold that looked so inhuman but also showed more emotions than any animal was capable of. Those same eyes were now staring at the door you were standing outside of, bearing holes into the piece of wood as it waited for you to go in.

You let out a shaky breath, and pushed the door open with the very tip of your finger.

The hut was illuminated by the flickering candle light in the center, its surroundings still very much so dimmed. The hut had been an abandoned shed, the weed still covering the creaking wood of the flooring. You stepped into the hut, observing the ground you stepped on carefully before landing your foot lightly.

“Go on, come closer,” it said, and you felt like your body was hypnotised by its voice that made your scalp tingle.

You forgot to breathe when you finally saw the naga. Its... no, his body was far larger than you had thought it would be just from guessing by how heavy he sounded being dragged to the village. At the side of the hut he was laying on, his long tail curled into loops around the corner of the room, green scales looking like crushed pieces of emerald under the candle light even with the dirt that dusted on top, adorning his body all the way until the scales blended into skin much like your own. Everyone kept calling him “the creature” that you found a strange sickness stirring in your stomach at how utterly human he looked leaning against the wall, his arms crossing loosely around his stomach. He had a handsome face, far more than any of the boys you grew up with in the village, with hair so inky it almost looked black less for the slight shift of green as the fire flickered matted to the side of his forehead.

The breath that was stuck at the back of your throat hitched when your eyes met his. You had imagined seeing hatred, or mockery, but plastered onto his face that didn’t look much different to the men of your village, his eyes were pressed into two thin slits on his face like the glowing moon at the depths of night.

There was no hatred, no belittlement, no malice, nothing. He just looked tired, that was all.

The naga squinted at you, “Why are you doing standing so far away?”

He opened his eyes when he saw that you made no intention to move, letting out a soft sigh from his thin lips. You could see the split tip of his tongue poking out as he exhaled. He weakly lifted his hand from his stomach and you winced when you saw the blood that was seeping out of the large wound right at the side of his waist. There was an iron cuff around his wrist, chained to the hook on the wall he was leaning on.

“I can’t hurt you even if I want to, not like this,” he hissed when he slowly put his hand down back at his stomach, “it has been a while since I talked to someone so just...” there was the slightest curl at the corner of his lips as he stared at you, “humour me, little one. Do some good and grant the creature its dying wish.”

His eyes followed you as you got closer and closer to him in fumbled steps, sitting down at the corner opposite to his at his side of the hut. You shifted when you felt the slightest flick of the end of his tail at your side, earning you a breathy chuckle from the naga.

“Why aren’t you at the feast?” he asked, using the last bit of his strength to push against the wall and sat up just a little to look at you.

The feast that celebrated his capture. There was bitterness welling up in your mouth when you thought of why people were still singing and dancing at the center of the town, the reasoning seeming almost absurd now that you were talking to the creature who looked more like you than any of the previous catches that the huntsmen had brought back.

“I don’t really like crowds,” you replied, holding your knees to your chest, “and the same story gets old real quick.”

“Ah,” he tilted his head, “the story of how they caught me?”

You nodded, looking at him from the corner of your eyes to see his reaction. “Did they tell people that they ambushed me while I was shredding my skin?”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

The naga huffed, laughing dryly, “Thought so.”

You blinked, thinking of how this changed the whole narrative of the villagers bravely fought against the dangerous monster. No wonder why the story got wilder and wilder each time, it was much easier to make up stories of great conquers than admitting to your schemes.

“If the skin is all they wanted then they could have just take the one I just shed off,” the naga continued, “but well, then they wouldn’t get to parade around the village and have a huge feast in their name.”

He let out a loud sigh, looking up at the ceiling of the hut. “People knew that vanity perishes easily so they milk it as much as they could,” he closed his eyes and laughed, shaking his head like he caught himself in a moment, “one day, one day they too would be nothing but a tale.”

His gaze on you was almost gentle when he looked down, making you feel so small sitting next to him.

“But nature, little one,” he spoke slowly, like a whisper that floated into your ears, “nature always remembers.”

You did not dare move under his stare, like even the slightest flinch would reduce you to ashes. He moved away first, chuckling to himself before it turned into coughs, his eyebrows locking together in pain. “I must have bored you,” he said, “forgive me, I never thought I would ever get to talk to someone even before my death.”

It was terror you felt when you remembered what the man had yelled before you left the feast, that they would skin the creature tomorrow at dusk.

The same creature you were talking to right now, who looked and sounded more human than beast.

“Do you think you could go far into the woods before daybreak?”

The naga looked up, “I don’t have the strength to break the chains, little one.”

You got up, the naga glanced to his side when you stepped near him for the first time. Humans could be quite lovely if you meet the right ones, he hummed to himself as you held the chain that was hooked to the wall in hand.

The hut was old, and out of shape. You pressed your feet flat against the wall with both hands on the rusty hook that drilled into the wall, and pulled with all your might. You let out a slight gasp of joy when the wood around the hook cracked, breaking the piece of metal out with nothing but chirped pieces of wood on the floor and a hole on the wall.

“They are going to skin you alive next morning,” you said towards the naga who stayed still, looking at you, “you should leave while they are still busy feasting.”

Daishou blinked, wondering if he should let you know that he already knew. He had lived longer than any of the men who trapped him, one of the many reasons why he felt so angered and humiliated as they dragged him along the woods that he had inhabited, catching him at his most defenseless state. If it wasn’t for how weak he was in his new skin, he would have never been stabbed, and it would not be hard for him to escape the unguarded hut at all. But laying in the dark, he was too tired to think of a way to break free and he had accepted that this was to be his downfall. He would have to admit that he beckoned you to go in because he found the way you gingerly peeked inside rather amusing, but it was no lie when he said that he just wanted someone to talk to.

He thought it would be nice to have the slightest bit of faith towards mankind who was bred from the same land that bred him, that was all.

“Would this get you into trouble, little one?”

“They wouldn’t know it’s me,” you smiled, “they barely notice me anyways.”

He looked like he wanted to say something but decided not to, before he slowly raised his hand. You didn’t flinch away when the tip of his finger touched your skin, shivering at how cold his touch was as he trailed it down your jaw.

The way he slithered across the floor was slow at first, with his hand pressed onto his wound to stop the blood from leaving a trail on the floor, until he got used to moving around with the slit at his waist and maneuvered his way past where you stood. He cast you one last glance at the door, before disappearing into the night.

For a while, you just stood there, staring at where he disappeared. You could still hear the faint sound of music from far away and it was what made you remember how you basically betrayed the entire village for the naga whose name you didn’t even get to ask.

You ran out of the hut, not once looking back until you reached your home.

The next morning, you woke up to hysteric yells from outside.

The creature had escaped, people whispered, breaking out of the chains it was bound to. The huntsman was furious, screaming at his hunting brothers for not guarding the hut properly.

“I should have slain the beast when I had the chance!” he slammed his fist on the nearest wall, the loud bang making you jump as tension around him thickened.

They tried to search for the hurt naga days and weeks afterwards but came back with a frown every time. The village went through another harvest during that time, and the huntsmen finally gave up when the first fall of snow covered the woods with a layer of white. People soon moved on, forgetting about the creature as life continued with the change of seasons.

But not you, you never forgot about the naga and his glowing eyes.

The village was struck by the worst famine it had ever experienced the coming year.

Heavy rain poured from the sky for days and days onwards, the main road of the village looking like a muddy river flowing past your door as it went on. The storm eventually stopped, but all the crops that were newly planted were all suffocated from the inches of water they were drowned in, and the soil was far too fragile for the new seeds to even form sprouts. The chief ordered for the village’s storage of produce to be rationed to each family, but all they could feel was despair when the hut became empty.

People scrambled to find anything that was edible, those who were lucky enough to find food hiding it in the most secretive spot in their houses in fear of being found out and told to split with the rest of the village.

Everyone was miserable. Occasionally, when you dragged your tired body through the village, you could hear the weak cries of hungry children and sighs of desperate parents.

People tried to survive purely on catches from the forest for a while but every day, the huntsmen brought back less and less until they returned empty handed one day.

“It is like they could feel that we are depending on them to live,” the leading huntsman gritted, his hands curled into fists like he was about to make his palm bleed from how deep his nails were dug in.

The chief cried, looking up to the sky that was ironically clear that day and exclaimed, “The gods have decided to doom our village!”

You were not sure if the gods had anything to do with it, but all you thought of as the chief teared up in front of his people for the first time many could recount was the soft hisses that rolled off the naga’s tongue many many moons ago.

Nature always remembers.

The crowd stayed silent as the old man sobbed, clearing his throat with a cough before sucking in a deep breath. He looked emotionless when he looked back up again, his throat feeling tight as he forced his voice out.

“I never thought this would happen during my years as the chief,” he spoke slowly, his eyes pressed tightly together as he swallowed the weight in his chest, “but we must offer a sacrifice to the gods in exchange for their mercy. This is the only way we could survive.”

Who would become the offering would be decided by a vote between the head of every family in the village, the chief said. No one said a word even after the meeting was dismissed, returning to their homes with a solemn heart, heavy spirit and wordless sorrow in their chest.

You felt a drop of tear rolling down your face that night, already feeling the dread build up at what was to come.

You took it surprisingly well when the elders of the village called you to the chief’s house. You already knew that this would be the result when you heard the there was to be a vote. After all, who would vote off their own kin? It was acquaintances before friends, friends before family when it came to choices as hard to make as who’s life to take, and the fact that you had no family was just the sad truth.

The villagers treated you the nicest in the few days before you were to be left in the forest as an offering for the ancient gods to claim than you had ever remembered, but you would much rather not see the pity in their eyes when they tied you up around the biggest tree in the middle of the forest.

The forest at night was dark and cold, the thin white rob on your body barely able to shield you from the howling wind. There was a moment when you wanted to cry, but your throat was so painful from the dryness that you could not even make a sound. Your eyes were getting heavy, feeling like you were about to drift into unconsciousness as time passed by agonisingly slow.

Would you die of fatigue first or from the beasts looming the woods?

You were about to give in when you heard the cracks of the tweed on the ground. It was the sound of something heavy dragging along the dirt, the sound of something getting closer and closer.

It was here, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes as you awaited, the supposed gods that were here to claim you.

“Little one.”

It must be the hunger taking over, or the lack of rest. Either way, you must have been so disoriented that you were starting to hear voices. You did not open your eyes, too afraid of seeing nothing but the empty woods when you do.

Until you felt a light touch on your chin, so light you would miss it if you hadn’t been hoping that it would happen at the bottom of your heart, and you shot your eyes open.

His eyes were just a bright as you remembered it to be. The golden slits on his face like the moon, his pupils pressed into a thin line in the middle as they fixed on you. Your positions had changed since the last time you met, with you being the one tied up waiting for your death while he stood tall on his tail, a faint line slashed across his waist was all the remained of the fatal wound.

“Little one, are you here with me?” he spoke again, the tip of his finger treading on your skin as he waited for a response.

“It’s you...”

“Good, you’re still awake,” he hummed, his hand now came to cradle your chin as his thumb rubbed against the side of your jaw, “I’ll try to get you down now, you think you can still stand?”

He chuckled when you gave him a weak nod, his fingers lingering on your face as he pulled his hand back. He stood up just a little higher, gliding around the thick trunk of the tree before finding where the knots were.

His tail thumped against the ground impatiently as his hands fumbled with the rope, pulling and scratching on the knot with his nails. Finally, you were lowered onto the ground when the rope so tight around you it felt suffocating loosened up. You wanted to land on your feet but your knees buckled the moment the tip of your toes touched the solid ground, falling forward with a sudden blankness of your vision. He was by your side in a swift slither, curling his tail around your body to hold you still.

“It’s ok... it’s ok, little one, you’re safe now,” he said, almost sounding a bit panicky as he watched you lay weakly against his long body, "can you get on my back?”

He held your knees with his hand the moment you shifted your weight onto his back, turning around to make sure that you were secure before slowly slithering away. His back clenched under your weight, each pull of his body taking you a bit ahead before he glanced at you who laid quietly on his back before moving again.

His skin was cold, much like the scales that covered his body even though it didn’t feel much different from your skin by touch but for some reason, you felt your chest warming up from the regular inhales and exhale right under your ear as you leaned on him.

“How did you know I was there?”

His muscles tightened at your breathy whisper. Daishou looked back to see that your eyes were fluttering close, staring at him through your lashes as you laid on his back.

He looked down, his fingers that were under your knees curling a little tighter on your skin.

“I told you,” the naga smiled, “nature never forgets.”

It was starting to get colder and colder. You shivered at the sudden wave of chills on your arms, and snuggled closer to your love’s side.

The sound of the small stream flowing through the center of the cave you were in trickled down your ear as Daishou wrapped his tail just a little closer around your frame, a bit of a performative gesture when he knew that he was the last one that could provide you with any warmth.

Nagas built their lairs near rivers and water, a force of habit that was left from their ancestors. This made it hard for you to start a fire within the humid cave, with the moisture in the air and how easy it was for fire wood to get damped. You tried to make place for a fire when you first settled in with Daishou but soon gave it up after many failures and how he always stayed far away whenever you crouched near the burning fire.

“I don’t like flames,” he said, hissing out the last word as he pulled you close to him that night in the dark, cold cave. The moss that he laid out on the ground for you was soft, but it was his long body curled up under you that really acted as the pillow you needed against the stone hard floor.

Right now, the naga had you pressed up closely to his side with his tail tapping against your legs calmly. You buried your face at the crook of his neck, salvaging for the slightest bit of warmth you could get from him with each gentle exhale from his chest.

It was alright, you much prefer falling asleep with him by your side to any fire.

“Suguru, are you going into hibernation soon?”

He looked down at you, his eyes like two slants of light that filtered in through the cracks of the cave. Nagas were not the same as any regular cobras that inhabited the woods but there were still habits from their counterparts that they could not separate from. Soon, in the worst days of winter when the cave you were in now would be blocked by snow and wind slamming against its stone walls, he would be soundly asleep only to awake when warmth returns. He had never worried about going into hibernation before until you came around. It would only be a few weeks and he had already spent the last months scavenging for food so you wouldn’t have to leave the safety of his lair while he wasn’t around but it still made his heart ache at the thought of you being alone nonetheless.

“Soon,” he said, nudging the top of your head with his chin in an act of comfort, “but I can try to stay awake for longer.”

“No, no, don’t force yourself” you were quick to respond, earning you a slight quirk of his eyebrow as the corner of his lips lifted up in amusement at your immediate worry. Your finger traced along where his skin met his scales, the area always a bit more textured than the rest of his tail. “I’ll miss you when it happens though.”

He laughed, his voice rumbling from the back of his throat as he dipped his head down, “I’d still be here, you know?”

“But asleep,” you corrected. You gulped, having second thoughts on what you were about to suggest but it evaporated into thin air as you breathed out, trying to sound as nonchalant about it as you could, “it’ll be nice if I can still have something of yours around for company while you are sleeping...”

“You make it sound like I’ll be dead-” he stopped abruptly, suddenly catching onto what you said. His eyes widened but his pupils pressed into a thin thread as he stared at you, “you don’t mean...?”

“Yes,” you sat up, throwing your arms around his waist and looked up at him, “yes I do.”

Daishou had fought back his instincts to spawn many times before, too cautious of how the difference in physique might be hard on you. He found many ways to please you and have your body caving for him but never go beyond making you feel good. There were numerous occasions when he was close to snapping, many of which had to do with how sweet your scent was whenever you pressed up against him much like what you were doing now. Still, he held back, knowing that you would gladly give him one if he wanted to.

But there was never a time when you suggested the idea yourself, and the thought of you wanting his hatchlings was starting to light a fire on all the desires he had buried away.

Daishou searched for any hint of reluctance in your eyes but found nothing. He was hesitant in his movements as he held your hand, pressing it close to his bare chest before nudging the back of your head with his nose, a simple gesture of courting and a search for compliance. His breath was shaky as he sighed, the warm huffs of his exhale trailing down to your neck and you threw your head back until you were leaning against him.

A soft whimper slipped from your lips when he pressed a feather light kiss at the crock of your neck before tilting your jaw towards him. For a cold-blooded creature, his lips were incredibly hot when they latched onto yours. You gripped onto his arms for leverage when he slowly lost himself, a content sigh ripped from his throat when you parted your mouth further. Even after so long, his tongue still elicited a tingle along your spine when you felt it invading your mouth. The slit at the tip of his tongue brushed against the walls of your cavity, making your back arch as he stole away the oxygen in your lungs bit by bit. You panted every time he briefly let you go, only to pull you back in once you regain your breath.

There was a string of silver connecting your lips when he parted from you. His core tightened at the sight of your heaving chest, your eyes half-closed with your lips parted like a pout at the lost of contact.

How could he not give you what you wanted when you looked like that?

“Get on your knees, little one.”

You felt the wave of warmth rushing to your core at how his voice was lower than usual with an added gravel that reached right to the depth of your stomach. His usual pet name sounded unfamiliar, painting the loving term he used for you in a different light that made your skin heat up.

You did as he was told, sliding off of his body to lay with your chest down on the soft moss with your knees propping you up. Anticipation welled up when you heard him moving behind you, his long tail sliding across the ground and curling up around your ankle. You shuddered when you felt his hand on the small of your back, pushing you down gently and making you arch your back even more. The soft hiss that rolled off his tongue sent shivers down your spine as he bunched up the thin frock you were wearing, the same one that you wore when he first brought you here and gave you a home that was truly yours.

You buried your face into your crossed arms, feeling your pussy clenched around nothing at the cold air that you were now exposed to. He eyed your quivering form like a predator, searching for the perfect spot to land a hit. Your mouth parted with a silent whine when his hands gripped on your hips, his thumb spreading your folds apart to see the muscles of your walls spasming. He groaned when you tried to push your hips back, your waist wiggling as you urged him to touch you right where you were begging him to.

A muffled moan was all the confirmation he needed when his long tongue ran up your slit, a slight flick when he got to the top had your toes curling. Your nails dug into the moss when he got bolder, swirling his tongue around your clit as he latched onto your cunt with an opened mouth. He had learnt to take advantage of his snake-like tongue on you, nudging against the sensitive bud that was starting to engorge with the parted tip as he pressed the flatted part of his tongue on your folds.

“Suguru-” you cried when he slipped his tongue into you, sending a sharp burn all over your body when he stretched into you. Teasingly running the tip along your walls, he held you still as you shifted in front of him at the sensation. A sharp mewl was ripped from the back of your throat when he pushed his tongue in deeper and deeper, searching for the spot that would make you melt under him.

“Please... so god- so good!”

Your voice was nothing but an incoherent babble, making him want to be just a little bit meaner to you to hear you cry. You did just as he had hoped when he retracted his tongue, a broken moan choked from the back of your throat at the lost of contact.

“Don’t be impatient, little one,” his hissing did nothing to ease the burn in your stomach, each syllable landing in your eardrum like a hypnotising note as he ran his tongue along his lips, savouring the taste of your essence on his tongue before leaning close again, “gotta get you stretched out all nice and wet so I can finally breed you properly...”

Your entire body jolted when you felt the shocks that ran down to the tip of your toes and numbing your scalp. His tongue slid in and out of you, aiming at the spongey spot right below your cervix as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips. His tail was coiled around you, holding you still as your knees threatened to give in. His name rolled off of your tongue like a mantra and it brought him back to the old ages when he was worshipped, only this gave him a rush like no other that even praise and songs written about him could not match.

You came around his tongue when he expertly hit the same spot once, twice, three times, your breasts squished against the floor as your body shook. He gave a few more pumps of his tongue, coaxing you down before slowly pulling out not without treading it along you. You felt your body going mush but still mustered the strength to arch your ass back, presenting yourself to him in a wordless plea for him to carry through. Your shoulders were nearly cramping when you stiffly turned around, looking at him from the corner of your glassy eyes.

The hold on your ankle loosened up when he crawled over your back, his chest pressing against you as his hand overlapped on yours. Fingers interlocking, he leaned down to kiss along the blade of your shoulder, as if preparing you for what was to come. At where his hips would be if he was human, a slit that was usually not noticeable had been pulsing open ever since he tasted the saltiness of your arousal, a tip of some sorts poking out whenever you moaned his name in that sweet voice of yours. Your breath hitched when you saw what resembled a human cock but much thicker and longer from the opening, veins of blue and green along its sides like vines that had your stomach flipping just at the thought of it being inside of you.

Daishou peppered his lips on your back when he tentatively brought his hips forward, brushing the tip of his cock along your sopping folds. A whimper came out as a choke when he pushed the tip in, your hand gripping vicely around his as your body felt like it was being torn open at the seams from the stretch. He hissed a soothing rhythm in your ear, his hand holding tightly onto yours as he pushed in bit by bit, biting his lips as he tried to keep himself together. You felt far better than he could ever imagine you to be, so warm and so tight around his girth.

Perfect for his eggs to lay.

“Hm- agh!" You screeched, your head dropping down as tears of pain formed at the corner of your eyes.

“Just a little bit more,” he kissed you again and again as he glanced down, seeing that he was already half way inside of you, “you are doing so well, perfect for our babies...”

You held onto his voice, focusing on how full you felt and how your body was already reacting to the want of carrying his child. You blinked frantically, trying to push away the tears in your eyes and focused on the coil that was forming in your stomach. You two simultaneously let out a content sigh when he finally sheathed in you, the pain slowly replaced by an overwhelming burn that set your senses ablaze when he finally started moving in you.

It started out as subtle thrusts of his hips, until a few weak mewls slipping past your trembling lips egged him on, telling him that you could handle it rougher. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as each surge of his hips had his tip jackhammering right at the most sensitive spot of your body, making your toes curl and every hair on your neck stood up.

“Our hatchlings would be so beautiful, so beautiful like you..” he muttered in your ear, his breaths getting rigid as you clamped down around him. He had you wrapped up between him, with his arms at both sides of your body and his pelvis together with the long tail trailing behind slamming against the curve of your hips. “I can already imagine- hmph- imagine your belly swelling up from my eggs.”

You whined at the thought which turned into a high pitch cry when you felt the tip of his cock opening up inside of you. One of his hands went down to hold you by the side of your waist, securing you in the position he had you in as he felt his guts clenching.

Nothing could stop your body from crashing down when you felt what was like a gelatin sphere from slipping out of his tip. Shocks of unexplained tingles shot down your spine when it pushed past your cervix and stuck onto the walls of your womb, leaving a burn on where it brushed past before it blended into your gut. You saw dots of your vision, your voice going hoarse as you came from the first egg he put inside of you. The gushing wetness from your orgasm made it easier for him to push the rest of it in, his face buried at the crock of your neck as he stayed still with the tip of his tail pointed.

“I’ve wanted to fill your stomach up for so long, little one,” he let out a breathy chuckle when you whined at his words, “just the thought of you glowing with our children had me weak, you know that?”

“Please, please...” you could not say anything else as more of his eggs pushed into your womb, your stomach feeling heavy as a bulge formed when his eggs had located. You could not count how many times you had cum around him with him breeding you full, putting his spawn in your stomach as he muttered praises after praises in your ear

“It’s ok, let go,” he said, holding your shaking body up as he grunted, “just one more...”

Your vision went blank at the final push. Everything that happened later was a blur, with his voice sounding like it was from a distance away as he humped against you, spurts of warm cum gushing into your already full stomach to fertilise his youngs that were no doubt growing in your womb already. The last thing you heard before you completely lost in the sea of darkness in your head, was a hissed word of “I love you” against your temple before you succumb to the heavy feeling in your eyelids.

You woke up after god knows how long with your eyelids fluttering open.

“Sh... stay down,” Daishou was quick to lay you back down when you tried to sit up but couldn’t with the weight in your stomach that you had forgotten about, “let me take care of you.”

You chuckled, your hand running down your waist to feel the bump on your lower stomach with awe. “You always take care of me.”

"I know, I know...” he said, kissing the top of your neck as his palm pressed onto your bulge too. You smiled when you heard the uncontrollable coo that fell off his lips.

His children were resting inside and when he wake up during spring, it would be close to the day they finally meet.

He shook his head, looking down at you with the most tender gaze when you serenely allowed yourself to close your eyes again now against his chest. His tail was snugly around your hips, hooking over your waist and around your belly.

Daishou Suguru had decided that he would try to stay awake for just a little longer when your soft breaths filled his ears, your stomach raising together with your chest with each exhale.

Winter or spring, he would give his life for yours, and now for his children in your stomach too.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #daishou x reader #daishou imagines #daishou imagine #daishou smut

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bitchwhoreofastorm · 3 years

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"We journeyed to Atmora, where ice sinks claws beneath the skin of the land. Tongues of frost lap at fertile-black soil smothering, drowning potential life with their spit. We watched frozen kings prostate themselves and they tried to scrub away those misbegotten kisses with their beards. To better understand our enemies I told Nerevar to kneel and lick the ground, but his mouth was too small to swallow his task, and anyways his knees were stiff with lordship, so he could not bend." Vivec's voice is husky, muffled by skin. "So I bent for him..."

The room is silent, lit only by magelights that flicker and twinkle with muted irregularity. Vivec lies on his bed, arms wrapped tight around Almalexia's thigh, face nestled into the crux of her hip; Almalexia sits still, one leg outstretched for Vivec's sake, the other bent upwards to serve as the rest for a full cup. Aside from Vivec's voice, the only sound in the room is the soft scratch of a quill on paper and the occasional squeak of Sotha Sil's leg as he shifts at his desk while writing. Sometimes it is not the poet's role to record his verse.

"We traveled to Yokuda, but we had to hold our breaths in to wander the sunken halls. We were greeted by At-Hatoor who remembered the netchiman's wife and he greeted me by her name, mistakenly seeing her face in mine. He revealed he had kept the simulacrum's tongue, from which I constructed a snorkel so the Hortator could speak in the waters of our host, but the Hortator could not master the liquid language of Dreugh and so I spoke for him. At-Hatoor asked me a riddle and to him I presented the answer to his son... and... the riddle... the riddle was:

"... Swallowed, by accident, when the Hortator became too tongue-heavy with the simulacrum's mouth and breathed in the sea. This is why the sea is shallow over Yokuda."

A soft laugh, from Almalexia, cut off by the drink.

"Then the Hortator grew despondent so I asked him what troubled him so. And he said, 'teacher, why do you share riddles with this stranger?' And since Nerevar knew nothing of the netchiman's wife I took him back above the waves. We went to rest a while beneath a pomegranate bush--" Vivec’s voice falters-- "And since his mouth was still dry from the salt he could not say what he meant. So I lay him down in the grass and spread out his chest, reading his heart. I saw that his organs were encrusted with emeralds, placed there as misguided tribute by Nhem-Hera when we passed through the Reach. Seeing that the emeralds were eating of him, I stood and said: 'Stupid daedra, you are hunger and only Boet-hi-ah may feast on void.' But the Hortator was confused by my scolding and he asked me what I meant. I told him he alone in the world may feast on hunger so he did.

"Then we picked up our legs and went on to the land my sister Ayem calls Silmora where winged bulls wear capes of blood. And we-- we-- wandered fourth-loops in the fine-trod shadows of decay using the paths I'd pulled from Nhem-Hera's veins when I chastised her for her impolite eatings. Using those veins like lassos we stumbled into a wood so black that we had only the star of Nerevar's finger to guide the way. We wandered for three days, listening to the old woods confer amongst each other at the Hortator's greatness, for even the forest saw him as beautiful and he was. He didn't hear them speaking. Then we lay down in the soft rot of the under-boughs and in the light of his ring I saw..."

A heavy silence descends upon the room. Even the magelights flicker. Sotha Sil stops writing, and Almalexia drains her cup; they wait.

"What did you see, Vivec?" Almalexia finally prompts him.

"I saw a weight like the world bearing down upon me," he whispers. "I saw a halo of dark light surrounding his beautiful face and I saw the many handprints left upon my skin like licks upon the frozen soil of the old wood. And I see him, and I cannot stop seeing him. I’ve said this confusedly from the moon-sugar I've eaten and the skoomer in my veins and yet-- despite this-- no matter what I drink to blind me-- I still see this single strand of hair sticking to his blood-covered face. I always see it. I still see it. I cannot stop seeing it. I cannot stop seeing his corpse."

"... Should I write that down?" asks Sotha Sil, uncertainly, looking over at the bed where the other gods sit.

Almalexia places her cup aside and sighs. "There's no harm in it," she says gently. "After all, this is only a poem."

#based on a real fucked up dream i had last night #fic

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

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Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

His eyes had seen the words written in neat lettering time and time again, yet he still read it again, trying to calm himself down.

They were trying to take you away.

Your parents were basically not as financially stable as you thought, basically having the audacity to ask you for money.

He was trying not to snap.

He'd known that your mother was a whore, already trying to safe your situation by digging up information he'd rather delete from his mind, forever scarred with the blasphemic image of her showing herself off to strangers on the web like a cheap commercial before a video starts, desperation being an understatement to describe her actions. Or maybe she did it only for the thrill.

She was a vile and distusting woman after all.

It was quite confusing to think of her as the woman who'd been responsible for bringing you into this world. He had a hard time believing it as he thought about your gentle and sweet nature, pure and caring while this sorry excuse of a human being did everything to play with karma it seemed.

Well, maybe he'd change his name for a day and play that role for her.

After all, she was an impatient woman he'd noticed from her constant reminding to buy obscene photos and short videos of her truly underwhelming body for an amount of money he'd rather spend on a coffee and a small breakfast to share with you, if he was being honest.

Why someone would genuinely pay for content like that was beyond him.

"I dont.. understand-" The female voice quivered on the other side of the line, making the corners of his lips turn upwards a bit as he listened to it, gaining some sort of satisfaction in knowing he'd gotten under her skin.

"Oh but I think you do." He said, voice smooth like velvet as he watched her pace back and forth in front of her admittedly bad webcam of her opened laptop. Living off of her husbands money couldn't be so luxurious he thought, if she couldn't even afford a decent laptop for the things she did whenever no one was looking.

It was truly making his saliva taste bitter merely thinking about it.

"If you think deleting your account will safe you, you're even more stupid than I initially thought." He mumbled into his phone as he saw her eyes widen, hands stalling as her gaze locked with the tiny device on top of her screen. She probably paled, yet the quality was too bad to tell for sure. "Everything has already been saved and will remain in my possession for as long as I have need of it." He stated, and clicked his tongue as she seemed to think of something to get herself out of it. "And remember; calling the police or informing any other authority will only result in you having to admit to your crimes as well. And I believe that isn't truly what you want." She snapped, hitting her table as she watched the camera, unknowing how Jungkook didn't even pay attention anymore, knowing he'd finally caught her head inside his noose.

"How much do you want?" She gritted out, and he chuckled, before clearing his throat.

"Your mindset truly disgusts me." He said, before sighing. "I don't want your fucking money."

He sat down properly again as he looked at his screen again.

"But I want you to do something for me.."

"It's nice to know that she finally found someone who can look after her." Your father stated, smiling at Jungkook who sat next to you at the table,taking your hand in his as he mirrored the gesture, spotting the way your mother tensed up in the corner of his vision, making him chuckle a bit.

"No, really, I am happy I've found her." He said, rubbing the back of his neck a bit shyly, making you giggle at his antics. Initially, you'd been a little worried when your parents wanted to meet Jungkook, not even knowing how they got to know about your relationship- your mother, however, had cleared things up for you, explaining that he'd updated them on your condition when you were in hospital. Maybe she did care, after all. "Right, angel?" He said, and you nodded, smiling with a bit of redness on your cheeks.

Absolutely divine.

"Alright, let me clean this up, You guys can head to bed, its already late." Your father said as he stood up, everyone else following after, when you'd suddenly grabbed Jungkooks plate and empty glass, smiling. Out of the corner of his he could see your mother empty her glass greedily, making him smile even wider.

Greed was a sin to be punished, after all.

"I'll do that, don't worry." You smiled, and he cooed at the sight. You were so absolutely sweet, he was always astounded at it, even though he should be getting used to it by now. He'd never get used to you, however. He nodded, giving you a kiss to your cheek as your father called for your mother, who'd been about to leave the table.

"Can you show Jungkook here where the guest room is? Help him set the bed, will you." He spoke, warmth as fake as her eyelashes as she smiled tensely, nodding towards Jungkook as he followed, comfortable with leaving you and your father alone for the moment. He wasn't a threat at all.

Your mother however, was a different story.

If she'd thought he wouldn't pick up on her dark gazes and blunt lies she truly was brainless. But then again, considering what she did with her freetime, he wouldn't be surprised to find her entirely empty.

Opening the door of the guest room, your mother closed the door behind him, slowly walking towards his back which was turned towards her, hands running over his shoulderblades as he shuddered.

But not with pleasure.

"I bet a young boy like you has stamina, heh?" She said, trying to form a seducing tone with her voice, yet failed as his eyes continued to stare forward, cold as ever as he stood unmoving, even when she came even closer. "Why would you get yourself someone like her anyways? There's nothing about her.." She chatted away, before stopping. "Wha-" She breathed out as she felt something poke her hip.

She was dead inside already, so why was she still up and walking like a zombie?

"You truly are disgusting." He murmured, turning around to hold his hand against her throat, backing her up until she could feel the wooden door against her back, chin pushing itself upwards as she looked at him with wide eyes. "To imagine that your rotten womb gave birth to an angel like her.." He said, eyes still trained on hers as he pushed a bit more, feeling and hearing her struggle, before moving away from her, snapping the knife he'd in his other hand shut to put it back inside his pocket as he opened the drawers, searching for fresh sheets. "I advise you to not ever touch me again if you want to keep your skin intact. It's nauseating enough that I have to share the same roof with someone like you tonight." He said, as he finally found what he was looking for, not caring as she swallowed hard, leaving the room and him alone, but not before running into you.

"Oh, sorry, I.. Uh, Jungkookie?" You asked, peeking into the room as his entire demeanor made a full 180 in front of your mothers eyes, body language suddenly speaking a different dialect it seemed, as he smiled, walking up to you, and leading you inside the room, closing the door with a last warning look thrown at her.

"Please angel.." He hummed against your skin, as you shyly touched his skin, making him sigh in bliss. He'd showered after his encounter with your witch of a mother, yet he couldn't help but not feel clean enough- he needed your touch, your salvation, to finally feel good again, to exorcise the demonic memories of her gut wrenching hands on his back, or her obscene words towards him. He needed your purity to cleanse him again, to give him back his wings you'd granted him.

"They won't hear." He promised, but in reality he wanted them to, craving deep down inside his being to drench the walls in your heavenly sounds, to clean this room of her presence with the help of the pleasure he was giving you. He felt you give into him with ease, smile warm and happy as his fingers entered you, knowing that he could not nestle himself inside you without sacrificing safety. And getting you pregnant was far from his mind.

No, the only thing ever being inside you would be him, and no one else.

You breathed out in sweet euphoria as he worked you with his hand, before dipping down, taking the covers with him as his tongue got in contact with your pearl, mouth feasting on you like a starving man enjoying his first meal, humming in pleasure as your hand found its way into his hair, gently tugging, never hurting.

He highly doubted you could ever hurt a fly.

And you'd never have to, with Jungkook at your side ready to soak his hands in the blood of anyone you wanted to have killed in cold murder, all of it with a smile on his face. He was ready to flood the streets in his own guts just to make more room for your praise and affection inside of him, he'd do it all for you in a time shorter than his heart could ever beat.

Your sighs turned into mewls.

He pushed your legs apart gently, hands reminiscing in the feel of your skin underneath his palms as he put even more effort into his actions, making you squirm in pleasure as your back arched like a feline stretching itself after a well deserved rest as you came undone with his touch, mouth finally parting from you, crawling upwards to your face as he kissed you, uncaring of your own residue on his lips.

You loved him.

He suddenly let out a short moan as he felt your delicate hands touch his bulge, eyes questioning as you silently asked for his permission.

Who was he to deny you anything?

As you pulled him out of his underwear he sighed at the view, your entire body showing off how lost you were with the task you'd taken on, making him smile as he began to help you, placing your hands around him in a proper way and showing you how to please him.

You learned quick.

Slowly growing more confident, you started to grip him with a bit more confidence, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you suddenly dipped down, making his eyes as wide as the moon before he huffed out a breath, head falling back as he could only stare at the white ceiling when your tongue touched his tip. Your soft lips took him in, inviting him inside the warmth of your mouth as you gently sucked before releasing him again, using your saliva and his own precum as lubrication for easier motions.

He was in heaven.

Of course he'd though about it, yet it seemed almost embarrassing how he fell apart so quickly under your touch, cum suddenly spurting out as he came violently, not prepared to last under such circumstances. He caught his breath, smiling apologetically as he stood up on slightly unsteady legs, reaching for some tissues inside his backpack near the bed before crawling back to you, cleaning up your face and neck with the outmost care as you suddenly spoke. "So, was that.. good?" You asked, and he scoffed, kissing you deeply before he rested his forehead against yours.

"Angel, you just sent me to heaven." He said, making you giggle as he made you lie down, cleaning between your thighs as to not make too much of a mess of the sheets.

His cum stained tissues however, he'd leave as a present for the witch to find.

If she was to wake again, that is.

"I'm so sorry, she isn't feeling well-" Your father apologized, yet Jungkook simply waved him off with a sympathizing smile. You nodded next to him, agreeing with Jungkook that this was simply a bad day for her. Everyone got sick once in a while. "I hope you have a safe trip home, and thank you for the wine Jungkook, you really have taste." He said, pale skin showing to him that he'd seemingly been affected as well. "We'll stay in touch." He told Jungkook, hugging him in a friendly manner as a form of goodbye.

He was collateral damage.

He actually liked the man a bit, noticing how calm and collected he was, even though he had to share his life with a woman such as your mother. He admired him really, for spending his time with her every day, for simply coexisting with her, without feeling the need to end his own life.

But maybe this man had exactly those thoughts he wondered, as he though about the wine bottle inside his car, evidence he'd taken with him to discard of in safe distance.

And as you both waved one last time, driving off, Jungkook only had one sentence running around inside his head as he thought of the witch that was your mother.

"This time, please just stay dead."

“I don’t have much space-“ he said, sitting on the engine hood of his car, patting his thighs as an invitation for you. “But it’s gonna be okay. I like having you close anyways.” He mused, voice low and drawled as if exhausted. You sat on his lap, legs hanging off on one side, head leaning on his chest, craving his warmth like a newborn kitten. He snaked his arms around your form, bathing in your presence in pure feelings of bliss as you sighed. He looked down on you, hand running over the top of your head. “What is it angel?” He said, worry a present undertone in his voice. You played with the buttons of his coat as he watched the sun set in front of you both, twilight slowly setting in.

“They.. won’t take me away from you, right?” You asked timidly, unknowing why this option scared you so much. Those were your parents; you shouldn’t be scared of them, should you? Yet Jungkook had told you to be wary of them, and you knew he was to be trusted- when has he ever been wrong? He only wanted your best, just like he said; he only wanted you safe and protected, and it made you feel oh so special. The pure option that you could be forced to live without him now seemed utterly terrifying, like a phobia you didn’t know you had.

“No, no angel.” He said, smile ever so present as if he’d just been gifted the thing he’d always wanted. You seemed so upset with the mere possibility of being away from him, it showed him that you had finally accepted him fully; you finally were his and his alone. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me.” He growled possessively, eyes growing cold as you leaned even closer to him, making him take a deep breath in fondness. “I’d rather die.” He whispered, and your head shot up, delicate hands on his chest, and an absolutely divine and desperate look on your face.

“Then I’ll die with you! You can’t leave me behind-“ you said, wide eyes looking at him in pure horror of the simple mention of his death, and he chuckled, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear with gentle hands, as he answered you lowly.

“Don’t worry angel-“ he said, his hand resting on your cheek, eyes watching you like a piece of art. “I’ll take you with me wherever I go.” He said, leaning in for a kiss you eagerly accepted, uncaring of how his hands gripped your waist tightly. Dangerously. And you were just as uncaring of his next words that left his lips between heated kisses.

“Even if I’d have to kill you myself.” he mumbled into you as you smiled.

You felt like Romeo and Juliet.

Or bonny and clyde for that matter.

The news should've hit you hard, yet it only left you with questions. You by now had your suspicions on what had happened, yet instead of igniting fear, it only left you with more things to wonder about. Why would he do these things?

Was he this scared to loose you that he even killed in his desperation to keep you close?

Would you one day be his victim as well?

"Angel?" He asked, standing behind you as his eyes scanned your form, noticing how you'd stopped packing your stuff, simply sitting in your old bedroom, on the floor, on your knees, in the middle of the room. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Well.. were you?

And if you were-

For how long?

Taglist:

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts

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vivilove-jonsa · 4 years

Text

A Bedding in the Vale

Day 2 Prompt-Tradition @jonsadungeonsanddrabbles

Thanks @amymel86 for the pretty poster!

A King Jon comes to the Vale and marries Alayne AU

***

She covertly studies her new husband throughout the feast, wishing to escape the hall’s curious eyes. He glares at most everyone but then she'll catch him looking at her, at her hair. She'd washed the dye away this morning. What is he thinking?

In private, they’d agreed to marry. Petyr hadn’t been pleased to have his schemes scuttled but said he wasn’t remotely surprised that the King in the North would wish to marry his beloved Alayne.

She’s fully prepared for everything marrying Jon entails though he’s different than the boy she’d known, hard and cold at times like the North that reared him.

Nervously, she takes a gulp of her wine. Noticing, he leans forward, his hand lightly resting on her forearm. “I won't hurt you. Once we retire, we won’t do anything you do not wish…”

But Baelish is on his feet, quieting the assembled lords and ladies. “I believe it’s time for the bedding!” He claps his hands and the musicians start to play a bawdy tune.

Just as quickly, they are silenced when Jon’s head whips around. He stands, an imposing figure in his kingly raiment with Longclaw at his waist and wrath dripping from his tongue. “I’ll take my bride to bed without ceremony, my lord.”

“Oh but the bedding ceremony is a tradition, particularly valued here in the Vale, Your Grace! My Alayne is a maiden but prepared for what's expected. You wouldn’t want to disappoint your new allies, would you?”

It’s only that last point that gives Jon pause, she knows.

The hall is silent as the tomb. Everyone looks between the Lord Paramount of the Vale and the visiting King in the North who’d arrived a moon ago and suddenly declared his intensions to marry Littlefinger’s bastard daughter a sennight ago for reasons none of them can comprehend.

True, he’s a bastard as well. Perhaps that’s why.

But it isn’t.

He knows that Jon knows. He thinks to call our bluff, she realizes. He thinks Jon won’t bed his half-sister for the sake of stealing her away North again.

Except I am not Jon’s sister.

Clever as he is, Littlefinger doesn’t know everything after all.

Jon looks back at her, his expression shrewd but concerned. His purpose in coming here had been to gain the Vale as allies. It is a fragile alliance they’ve brokered. She knows this very well. What’s a little loss of dignity and her maidenhead for the chance to go home? She’d already expected him to bed her eventually anyway.

She gives him a nod and a smile she hopes conveys her agreement.

“Very well,” he says gruffly to her before turning his attention back to the hall. “But if any man offends my wife in word or deed, I'll take his head.”

Not very friendly of him. None are foolish enough to doubt him either.

She’s escorted to their chambers instead of carried there. Her dress is unlaced but with several ‘beg pardons’ and only enough as to allow her to slip it off more readily.

She slides between the cool sheets wearing only her smallclothes. Every man present looks away…except one. She will not blanch from his hungry eyes though. He will never have her now. She is Jon’s.

Her groom is lacking his shirt and his breeches have been partially unlaced when he enters. She scowls at the giggling pack of ladies attending him. She almost wishes she wore a sword on her hip and had made a similar threat.

Jon seems oblivious to them though. His eyes nearly scorch her with their heat and intensity.

She sees the scars that cover his chest and a sad gasp escapes.

“No, no,” he says softly, ignoring the other occupants. “It’s alright.”

She’s not alone in seeing his scars. The tales will be circulated throughout the Vale about the man who came back from the dead, the King in the North who could not be killed with mere blades.

There are still a handful of intruders waiting for him to join her beneath the furs.

“All of you…get out!” How they scurry. “Listen at the door if you wish. I don’t care. But you will not watch.”

However, before Petyr escapes with the rest, Jon decides he has something to tell him. He whispers in his ear. Sansa watches his face turn pale long before Jon is finished.

Jon comes to bed as the door snaps shut behind them. “Are you alright? Did anyone hurt you?”

She shakes her head, unable to stop blushing. “He looked at me but he didn’t hurt me.”

“I’ll kill him once it can be done without fear of losing the others.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“I will anyway.”

Deciding that she won’t argue (truly, none would argue with him when he’s like this), she turns the current of their conversation. “I’m cold.”

“Then let me warm you.”

She opens her arms, inviting him closer. She kisses his cheek and then his mouth.

“We don’t have to,” he says as the kisses continue.

“But we will.”

“I will make it pleasant for you.”

You may try, she thinks, not believing it possible.

Oh, she is so wrong.

She wonders vaguely if any have lingered to listen. If they have, they are sure to hear the king’s new bride crying out quite often as he loves her, worshiping her with his mouth and fingers before he ever takes her maidenhead. And even that is far more enjoyable for a first time than she would’ve imagined. He is a skilled and patient lover no matter how hard and cold he may appear to others.

“What did you tell him before he left?” she asks, stroking his strong arm when they lay tangled together afterwards.

Jon’s lip twitch into a wry but wintry smile. “I told him he never had your mother and he’d never have you either.”

She should not laugh. And yet, she does.

#jonsa fanfiction #jonsa #jonsaautumndrabbles #day 2 prompt-tradition

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

what happens after || kim taehyung

→ summary: in another universe, do you think we could’ve ended up together? OR exploring how your memories with taehyung intertwine with your slow recovery from a life without him.

→ pairing: idol!taehyung x reader

→ genre: exes!au, post-breakup angst

→ word count: 4.4k

→ warnings: n/a

→ a/n: i always wanted to write something exploring the feelings of separation after a relationship. there’s a lot of works out there detailing the process of falling in love, but i think there’s something redeemable in the process of recovering from love as well.

●●●●●

The morning after might be the hardest part.

After a night of tossing and turning, drifting aimlessly between sleep and consciousness, the sun rises like it always does. When the dawn breaks, you open your eyes slowly, hoping that when you open them—Taehyung would be there.

But of course, he isn’t.

Because if he were, you’d already be in his arms. Taehyung loved to hold you while he slept, as if it comforted him knowing that he had you within his grasp. You never minded it, because the warmth he exuded was critical for lulling you into your dreams with ease. He smelled nice, like soft detergent on freshly washed sheets mixed with something so uniquely him. You would languidly lay in bed, curled into his chest, resting happy knowing that he’d still have you when you wake the next day.

When you broke up with him the night before though, this unrealistic expectation somehow still remained. It persistently presses against your heart, trying to win out against reality, until you were forced to longer believe in it. Gazing forlornly at the empty pillow next to you, missing the person who used to always sleep on the right side of the bed, your heart breaks all over again.

If you close your eyes tight enough, grip the blankets hard enough, you could almost feel his arms around you again. You could see Tae, dark locks messy with sleep, grumbling in annoyance as you try to poke him awake. He always mumbles ‘five more minutes’ before pulling you closer and burying his face in your neck. You’d always let him have his five minutes; in fact, you grew accustomed to setting your alarm a few minutes earlier just to ensure the two of you would still be on time. You wonder if he knew this.

Laying there in a bed that suddenly feels too big, you have no choice but to accept the fact that this was only the first day in the rest of your days without Taehyung. If you could push past the pain you felt today, things would get better. They had to, because how else were you supposed to survive a break-up?

But the loneliness and the hurt have made their residence within your chest, and you feel too weak to face the day. You can barely get yourself out of bed, so you decide to call into work sick that day. You were a star employee, so they surely would offer you a day off if you really needed it.

You spend the rest of the day staring at that empty pillow.

●●●●●

Prior to meeting Taehyung, you’d never dated a celebrity or anyone with as much popularity as he had. Given how big he and his group were, you should expect his face plastered everywhere you went in advertisements and other endorsements.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

On your way to work you’d always listen to music, something upbeat and catchy to pull your attention away from the fact that he was everywhere. You wonder when they’ll remove the BTS advertisement for Chilsung Cider from the interior of this subway train. It’s been here for the past few days—surely they’ll have newer product placement coming soon. Despite the cheery beat of the current song playing from your earbuds, you can’t help but notice the small smile on Tae’s face. It’s the one he uses for professional things, the kind that makes his eyes glitter just enough to seem real. But you knew with aching familiarity how to easily get that boxy smile of his, his laughter contagious when you managed to crack him up beyond just a few chuckles.

Smiling sadly, your eyes lower down to the thin watch on your wrist. You’ll be on time for work as you typically are, so you should quickly get your act together. You were a radio show host, which meant that you had to make your voice engaging for those morning commute listeners. Being a professional meant separating work matters from personal ones, and it would be easy to tell if you were depressed about something.

God, what if your co-workers ask you what’s wrong? What if they find out that you’re no longer with Taehyung and just give you pity looks for the next month? You’d probably go insane.

Pressing your lips together instead of biting them for fear of ruining the gloss smeared over them, you briskly walk towards the radio building before dispelling those thoughts out of your head. You could be professional. Just for a few hours, you could keep it together.

Even when you dash past the photo on the wall, an old picture of you and your co-host holding up fingers hearts to the camera alongside world superstars BTS, you gather the pieces of your heart and hold them together.

●●●●●

Wow, did mint chocolate ice cream always taste this heavenly?

Burying your spoon into the icy dessert with renewed vigor, you pull the fluffy blanket over your belly as you commence your feasting. You haven’t had this flavor in a while given that Taehyung didn’t seem to appreciate it all that much, so you were grateful to be able to indulge in it once again. It wasn’t like it was your favorite flavor of all time, but you appreciated the crisp notes dotted with hints of creamy chocolate. You’d take toothpaste-flavored food any day of the week if it tasted this yummy.

You stop shoveling ice cream into your mouth when you remember the ice cream dates Tae used to sneak out of work to bring you on. He loved this one ice cream parlor down the street, always getting the same flavor no matter what. You liked to venture out of your comfort zone a little more, and given how often he took you there, you were close to trying almost all their staple flavors—not counting the seasonal ones. He’d always sneak a kiss from you afterwards, just to claim that he was able to sample all the flavors too. It always made you laugh, but you appreciated his small displays of affection. Especially towards the end, when the two of you began meeting a lot less frequently.

You place the sweet dessert back into the freezer, sighing and running a shaky hand through your bird’s nest of hair. It felt terrible to still reminisce about something that would never be, but you recently chose to forgive yourself when these flashbacks happened. Taehyung was one of those loves you would never forget because of how impactful his presence had been. So maybe if it took you a few weeks or even a few months to finally get over him, it’s acceptable. You knew without a doubt that you truly loved him. But of course, that did not lessen your obligations in relation to finally splitting away from depending on him.

Outside, the sky is glowing with brightness despite being seven in the evening. You lived in the city, meaning that the streets would be alive well into the early morning hours. It was loud and oppressive in the beginning, but you grew accustomed to it shortly after moving here for work. You wonder if you would even be able to fall asleep now without the hum of traffic underlying your dreams.

Maybe getting some fresh air, being around lively human interactions, and just living a little would help you move on. At this point you were ready to try anything. After all, it couldn’t hurt. You weren’t in the mood to cook today anyways.

You decide to dress a bit better than usual, if only for your own self-confidence. Your hands automatically reach for your favorite blouse and your most comfortable jeans from the interior of your closet. A lot of articles you own were actually gifts from Taehyung, so you’re grateful that you still have a few things that you could keep without reminding you of him. You wonder when you would feel comfortable wearing those dresses and belts he purchased for you. He bought them to show off “his girl” but now that you weren’t, did you still have a right to wear them?

When you finally escape from your worries, the cool night air blowing the strands of your hair with a carefree hand, you breathe deeply and try to exhale any stress still entrenched in your body. Tonight was about forgetting. It was about starting over.

It’s Friday today, so the streets are littered with happy couples, arms tangled together and their faces alit with adoration and happiness. You wonder if you looked as lovesick as they did, before ultimately deciding that you probably had. Tae was rarely able to walk the popular streets with you during rush hours, and even then he always wore a black cap with a matching face mask. The two of you grew used to ducking into alleyways whenever he spotted a large group of people heading towards the two of you. You remember feeling the hard brick wall pressing against your back as you waited out the crowds, glancing over at him periodically to smile mischievously at him. Maybe it was the thrill of almost being caught, or maybe he just liked your playful side, but he would usually choose to pull down his face mask just to kiss you when the two of you were hiding. These kisses were different than the post-ice cream date pecks. He’d always linger for a second or two, giving your bottom lip a greedy nip or ghosting the tip of his tongue across yours. No matter how many times he did this, your stomach always did flips in response.

The restaurant you picked is packed today, so you decide not to dine in. It would be rather weird to eat by yourself, especially amidst such a high-energy venue. Thankfully, your simple sandwich is completed rather quickly. You thank the waitress working the front desk before gripping your paper bag, heady with warmth, and head to the closest park.

One of the first places you discovered when you moved here was this community park. It is surrounded by large buildings, but that only added to the appeal of a small oasis surrounded by the mess of city life. You often came here after work, if only to stroll around the well-worn paths and think through how your day went. In the beginning, it had been difficult for you to adjust. Especially in the entertainment business, the higher-ups always demanded more of you. They wanted humor and fun, for you to pull fresh news out of the idols which fans craved. You had to be peppy, excited, and well-versed in the background of whoever you were interviewing. It was tough, but now you knew you had built up quite the reputation for yourself. You enjoyed meeting a variety of artists, most of whom quickly signed up for a repeat interview with you after the first round. You received the recognition and praise you craved, and you knew that you could only soar higher from here.

There are a few people walking their dogs tonight. You give each passing pet a smile when they look up at you with their round eyes and lolling tongues. Having a soft spot for animals, seeing them always made your heart feel lighter even if it was just a glance. Finding a bench is easy for you, especially since most people opted to stroll around this evening. The first bite is always the best, and it rings true tonight without fail. You chew slowly, enjoying the savory celebration over your palate before you slip back into your thoughts again.

You wonder what Taehyung is doing right now. His schedule must be busy, given that he was preparing for his comeback soon. You knew it was right of you to break up with him early enough that he would still have sufficient time to practice, since his work would always be his priority. It would be careless of you to end things with him close to his performances. You loved him enough to think things carefully on his behalf.

You remember how much you cried a few weeks ago, when you couldn’t even leave your bed to make it to work. Every time you blinked, he appeared behind your eyelids. It hurt so much that you never thought you could heal. You hated yourself, hated the universe for tearing the two of you apart. Whatever semblance of perfect love you found was replaced with the growing pain of your careers. You were climbing in the ranks, your days booked with more and more artists hoping to use your show to rise in popularity. BTS was traveling the world, performing for the masses and wooing fans with their genuine personalities in video interviews. As the two of you climbed higher, you also drifted further apart. You were beginning to feel the emptiness of being able to count how many times you had seen your ex every month on one hand.

The sandwich is quickly consumed, so you toss the empty bag into the trash can next to you and let out a sigh. Even though you wanted to not think about Taehyung tonight, it was difficult. Everything reminded you of him. Every time your mind wandered, it somehow ran after whatever remnants of him you still had. However, it was starting to hurt less and less. Instead of having your eyes brim with tears every time you thought about the way he used to look at you, you began to treat it as a silent acknowledgement of the past. You were satisfied with this development, but simultaneously fearful. What would it mean when you could finally think about Taehyung and feel nothing? Would that somehow invalidate everything he once was to you?

Your blouse isn’t doing much to protect you from the chilly night air, so you decide to take another lap through the park before retiring for the night. It’s difficult to see the stars, given the pollution and bright lights, but you like to imagine that they are there—shining down on you. They guide you back to your apartment, never leaving your side even when you shut the door behind you with finality.

●●●●●

Months have passed, and you are busier than ever before. Your coworkers have also began inviting you for dinners and other events more often. At first you were hesitant, not the social butterfly that most people expected radio hosts to be, but you quickly adapted. Everyone was friendly towards you for the most part, and the chatter helped ease and distract whatever sadness your heart was holding on to.

Christmas was around the corner, and you knew without a doubt that the entertainment world would be hosting a multitude of parties for the season. You were willing to join the tight-knit ones where only a handful of people were gathering for some red wine and conversation, but when your coworker invited you to a large rooftop celebration with some celebrities, you couldn’t help but hesitate.

“It’ll be fun! I’ll stick by your side all night if you’re that worried,” you coworker had chirped, a newbie at your company but who remained sociable and energetic nevertheless.

You had laughed nervously, waving her worries away and agreeing to attend. That had got her to finally leave you be, as you fiddled with the lid of your coffee cup and wondered what excuse to give when the date came around. Unfortunately, when December 24th finally did roll around, you simply stared at the calendar hanging from your wall and acquiesced.

Your closet is different now, as most of the items Taehyung purchased for you are now stowed away in a box in the corner. The newbie at the company, her name was Luce or something, had told you that people would probably be dressing nicely for the event. She then spent the rest of your lunch break yapping about some dress she had ordered online while you tuned out to play with the hem of your pencil skirt in nervousness.

Looking at your options, you finally settle on a scarlet dress that you hadn’t worn for a while. It was one of your first pricy purchases after your first paycheck, as a gift to yourself, and you were thankful to find that it still fit you perfectly. It was nothing scandalous, but definitely very different from what you were used to wearing. Pairing it with your beige trench coat, you check your makeup once more in the mirror before heading into the night.

The taxi drops you off at the location with little trouble. The sounds of the party are quick to descend on your ears, so you hand your coat to the coat check quickly before heading upwards to find someone you knew—just to stick around for the party so you wouldn’t feel isolated.

String lights have been strung elegantly across the sky, and you realize that it truly is a wondrous sight. Heat lamps are placed strategically across the floor, and a number of attendees are already sipping champagne and giggling with each other. Almost immediately, you see the coworker you thought of earlier, bounding over to you like an overeager kid and beaming with enthusiasm.

“You actually came!” she smiled, eyes wide as if you were merely an illusion.

“A promise is a promise,” you reply, accepting the flute of champagne Luce snatches from a nearby table to hand to you.

“Do you want to meet some people with me? I think quite a few of the celebs here know you already.”

You take a sip of the drink, appreciating the bubbles across your tongue and the slight flame that blazes in your chest when you swallow. You nod, deciding that socializing was only customary.

Your coworker is right to note that you actually recognize a lot of people in attendance tonight. The awkward feeling you had quickly faded away as you caught up with familiar faces and new ones alike. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, happy to take a break to visit their friends and family for the holiday season. Their respective companies all allow vacations during this winter season, so their happiness is well-warranted.

It is only on your third glass of champagne, a red color brushed high on your cheekbones, when you take notice of his figure flitting in and out of your view. Taehyung is dressed in a beautiful midnight blue suit, the color flirting between blue and black. His hair is dyed a bright blue, likely due to promotions for his recent album. You can’t pull your eyes away from his tall figure and the way his lips pull in a polite smile at every person who greets him. He looks exactly the same, but then again, would a few months really change a person?

Suddenly, everything is too much and whatever progress you’ve made in the past few months flies out the window. You want to run out the door and back into the safety of your apartment across the city. That sensation only heightens when his dark eyes meet yours, and your stomach drops in fear and trepidation.

The thing about Taehyung is that he’s never shy with you. Even after months of being separated, he still holds your gaze in his own without fail. The two of you used to have staring contests, ones you would always lose, and this moment also feels akin to that. You choose to accept defeat the moment you apologize to your acquaintance and set your glass on the table. Heading straight for the stairs, reminding yourself to grab your stuff from the coat check on your way out, a part of you wonders if he will follow you. It’s fruitless, because what could he even say? You would only shake him off and apologize before running away again. He knows better than to chase after the girl who got away.

When you’re finally miles away, dress discarded on the floor, lying in the center of your cold bedsheets and staring at the ceiling—you realize that you still haven’t moved on.

●●●●●

The beginning of 2020 is nothing if not full of surprises. For one, you quit your job. If anyone were to tell you that you would leave your well-paying occupation one day to pursue a career as a painter, you would probably laugh in their face before recommending one of your psychiatrist friends. However, that joke was your current reality. Unable to take the stress of keeping up with every new act knocking on your door for an interview combined with the way the male high-ups expected you to laugh at the right times and talk pretty during interviews, you handed in your resignation at the end of January.

Perhaps the dumbfounded looks on their faces were worth the loss.

The next day, you book the earliest flight for Paris. You want some inspiration for your art, and what better inspiration could you derive than from a city with a rich history and a penchant for beauty? You had always been into the arts, so this transition came easily. Taehyung used to tell you that you were gifted, but you never took heed of his words. After all, his compliments were freely given to you when he was in a good mood. In reality, the most he ever saw of your skills were the doodles you’d scribble on his hand when he was unconscious from a nap on your couch.

These days, you rarely thought of him. It was reassuring for your heart, knowing that you were slowly accepting a tomorrow without him. The process wasn’t without its pain, but you were thankful at your resilience. You knew that he was doing just fine, as your mutual friends kept you updated whenever they felt like sharing.

Paris at night is a rare type of beautiful. Staring up at the Eiffel Tower, you admire its curves and lines as people glide past you without paying you any heed. You probably stare at the structure for a good 10 minutes without moving, your eyes appreciating the classy nature of its architecture before you decide to head back to your hotel. You wanted to sketch this monument while its shapes were still imprinted on your thoughts.

Turning around to see Taehyung staring at you, the fear you had felt at the Christmas party doesn’t rise up to coil around your throat. It surprises you, even though you had already admitted to moving on considerably. He is still unfairly handsome, his hair back to the natural deep chestnut you were familiar with. When he steps forward, caution enunciated in that single step, you give him a smile to reassure him.

“Long time no see,” you breathe, tucking your hands into your windbreaker.

“Yeah,” his deep voice resonates in that single word of affirmation.

“Would you like to grab a croissant with me?” you offer, unsure how to proceed but deciding to be polite regardless of how uncomfortable everything seemed.

He nods, his tall form quickly falling in step with your own. Taehyung doesn’t say much throughout the entire journey to your favorite bakery, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk underneath your feet.

Sitting outside the store, a warm baked good in your fingers, the silence is considerably more bearable. Eating with satisfied bites, you watch the passerby glide past with radiant smiles and laughter, joking around in French. When you finally brush the crumbs off your lap to glance at Taehyung, he is watching the same crowd as you were. He seems to feel your eyes on him, because he meets your gaze. When you look into his eyes, no more than a few feet separating the two of you, you realize the lack of hurt that typically panged with every mention of him last year.

The realization empowers you, ballooning your heart in your chest. It is not happiness you feel, but something akin to a peaceful acceptance.

“In another universe, do you think we could’ve ended up together?”

His question echoes in the recesses of your mind, and your fingers unconsciously tighten on the thighs of your leggings. This same thought had plagued your dreams early in your break up, as you prayed and wished that if things were different, if your careers didn’t demand so much from the two of you, that maybe there would be a happily ever after and an “us” to hold onto. But this universe, these conditions, were reality. You couldn’t ask him to sacrifice his love for singing, his appreciation of his growing fanbase, his dream—for you. He couldn’t request the same of you either.

“Maybe. Namjoon used to talk a lot about that,” you chuckle before continuing, “Multiverse theory or something like that.”

Taehyung nodes, a small smile appearing across his face when you mention his hyung.

“If he’s right about that, then I suppose so. In another world where you are nothing more than a normal boy and I am nothing more than a normal girl, I’d like to think we could’ve made it work,” you whisper, and when the words leave your lips without shaking, you are proud of yourself.

“I can be happy with that,” he says.

He walks you back to your hotel room, keeping to his thoughts as he does. You don’t mind, knowing that Tae often retreated into his thoughts when he was considering a topic deeply. You momentarily consider asking him why he was in Paris but decide against it. If he was ready for aimless conversations, he would start.

When you reach the hotel interior, a large chandelier illuminating the white marble tiles underneath your feet, he finally pauses to give you his final goodbye. He looks like he wants to say something more, maybe to ask to meet again or something of that nature. Instead he swallows and exhales, “We don’t need another universe to continue being there for each other.”

“No, we don’t,” you agree.

He turns around, bidding you another a small goodbye when his eyes briefly flit to your face. You offer him a small wave in response, watching his broad back retreating out the room and the sliding glass doors. Heading straight for the elevator doors as soon as his silhouette disappears from view, your shoulders relax instantly in the safety of the enclosed compartment.

Perhaps this universe still had a lot left to offer.

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves · 3 years

Note

How about some cook Cavendish satisfying Drax with pleanty of food. digging Drax' ass out of a dumpster and showing him what actual food is, giving him pleanty to feat on~

-cursed

This sounds tender as SHIT. Let's fucking go.

Cavendish pulled the top off the pot, taking an inhale. Soup smelled good, it should be ready soon. He added more salt, before putting the top back on. It was late at night, and everyone else was asleep, but Cavendish couldn't sleep. He knew he needed it though, so he decided a nice, hot meal would soothe him. Usually Otto cooked, but he was happy to make something of his own. A nice stew, coupled with some fresh bread (that he didn't at all steal from Brownlee's food stash), he made more than enough food.

"The hell?"

He was about to heat up the bread, when he heard a commotion outside. Something was out there, digging into the box of scraps just outside.

"Fuckin' told that damn cabin boy to dump the scraps."

He grabbed a kitchen knife, and went outside. Probably some rat. Had they not been disease ridden, biting bastards, he would've ignored it. He walked slowly, knife raised, when the damn thing turned around. It wasn't a rat, it was worse. Henry Drax. He was digging into the FUCKING trash, like an animal. Cavendish sighed, as a means of both disgust, and relief. At least Drax wasn't a biter. Usually.

"Fucking hell Drax-the hell you doing out here?"

"Hungry. But I can't go back into the damn kitchen."

"You kept eatin' shit, didn't you?"

"Otto maybe a godly man, but he's a stingy fuckin' bastard."

Drax was an absolute scavenger. He'd always hang around a kitchen, stealing little bits of food, even when Otto was just trying to cook. Cavendish had seen it first hand, and until he was booted from the kitchen, it was pretty damn funny.

"Are you actually eating from there?"

"Aye. Wasteful man. Still meat on these bones, and these tomatoes are still good."

Cavendish watched as Drax dug his foul teeth into a juicy, spoiled tomato, letting the juices run down his ever messy beard. Cavendish didn't love this man in the slightest, but he'd be heartless not to feed a man digging out of old scraps.

"You're a fuckin' mutt- come on."

He smacked the tomato out of his hand, and put his hand behind his back, ushering him back into the kitchen. Drax was clearly upset about the lack of his snack, but he didn’t get a chance to bitch as he sat him down at the table. Drax looked like he wanted to get up, even, but Cavendish knew just what would make him stay. He pulled his flask from his coat pocket, placing it on the table. Drax chuckled, getting comfy in his seat.

“Know how to get me to stay, Micheal.”

He only called him that in private. When not a soul walked in between them. Cavendish waved his hand at him dismissively, He added oil to the bread, and stuffed it into the tiny oven. As glorious as the Volunteer was, Cavendish could make a complaint in regards to the kitchen’s size. He felt cramped in here, not just amongst the damn clutter in here, but with Drax just sitting there, nursing the rest of the flask (greedy bastard, thing was full when he got it to him). It was a bit much, but in a way, it was comforting. Just a slow, brief break from the bullshit at sea. No Sumner, no Brownlee, no insurance tricks, no whaling. Just the smell of a fresh pot of soup, and herbed bread. He turned off when he smelled the bread, just how his mother always did.

“You better stay here, Henry. Too much food here for my lonesome, and if Otto found out I cooked, he’d never let me back out into the ice.”

“He likes someone to talk to. As if Sumner wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it’s redheads.”

They both chuckled. They knew Otto. the caring, protective type that favored the more feminine, soft men. Men who could pass off for the usual whore. Cavendish finished cutting the bread, adding it to the plates, and alongside the bowls of soup, brought it over to the table. Drax had that hungry look in his eyes, and it was one of the few times where it didn’t unsettle him. Drax, as usual, didn’t savor his food the way any person would. He ate the way a hungry animal would, slurping loudly, teeth tugging at the meat and lips slurping the bones clean. He went in with the spoon when he had to, but when he needed meat, he tucked in like a brute.

“Ya mam never taught you how to eat, did she?”

“Hungry. I ain’t eatin’ with royalty, afterall.”

“As if you’d change for royalty.”

Drax grinned, beads of beef broth dripping from his teeth and into his beard. He rubbed at the mess in his beard, wiping it on his coat, then continuing to feast. Cavendish was no man of status either, but he at least knew how to cherish a meal. The salt in the soup, the sweetness of the carrots, the starchiness of the potatoes, the gaminess of the meat- all which sat moist in the salty broth, seasoned by the bones. And the bread. Crunchy, yet still somewhat soft on the inside. Better than any hardtack they were given.

“Good soup, Micheal.”

He watched as Drax’s lips curled around the soup, noisy as he drank. He’d give the man one thing; he wasn’t fussy. He picked the bones clean, even stripping it off his cartilage, and even licking the crumbs from the bread off the plate. Man was starving. He groaned to himself upon finishing. He wasn’t sated, but he was a little more tame than before. Cavendish wasn’t even done with his soup by the time Drax sat there, licking the residue off of the rim of his bowl. His tongue was greedy, appreciative of every single drop. Cavendish sighed, getting up, and offering his hand to Drax.

“Quit lickin’ the damn thing, I’ll give ya more.”

“I don’t like wastin’ any of it. You don’t know when it'll be the next time you'll eat.”

Cavendish rolled his eyes. Knowing Drax, he’d live. Man would kill and eat an animal raw, with his own teeth if he had to. He went back into the kitchen, filling up the bowl, and giving the man the last piece of the bread. He gave it back to him, and watched as Drax finally ate like a person. Well, closer to a person anyway. He didn’t dig into it like a hungry wolf, but rather, he savored it, as though it was the least meal he’d ever eat. Cavendish nodded, tucking into his bread after having it soak up some of the soup.

“Finally slowing down, though I’d watch you choke.”

“Aye, I do the choking ‘round here, lest you forget, Micheal.”

Henry shot him a wink, just as he was tearing the strips of flesh from the bone. You could always tell when Henry was eating. He slurped, he moaned, he groaned, his teeth ground against bone. It was an experience for Henry. Didn’t matter what it was. Just that there was enough for him. Henry would still enjoy himself, as if a proper whore was blowing him during his meal. It was annoying as hell to most, but not to Cavendish. All he heard was a hungry, eager man.

“Surprised you don’t eat the damn bone, Henry.”

“Don’t throw ‘em out, I’ll suck on them like hard candies.”

Probably why he hadn’t tossed them to the floor, but rather, kept them on his plate, as if he wasn’t done with it just yet. Cavendish had finished his meal quite some time ago, but he had no issues sitting there, watching and listening to Drax’s animilatistic sounds. By the time he finished, he sat back, licking his fingers over and over again. He finally looked sated, relaxed. Cavendish stood up, taking his bowl, and bringing him another. Drax looked hesitant, even as he sat there, suckling on bits of bones, but Cavendish knew Drax could never turn down a meal. He accepted it, helping himself to more of the soup. Cavendish sat down again, watching Drax gorge himself further.

“Never know when you might eat again, eh Henry?”

“Free food is free food, I’d sooner perish than waste a morsel. Especially knowing you made it for me. Almost sweet of ya.”

“Suck my prick, Henry, I just don’t want to smell trash in your breath, next we meet. You already smell like cheap booze and smoke.”

“You like that smell, they all do.”

He smirked. He didn’t notice the broth run down his arm at first, and had to take a second to run his greasy, greedy tongue up his arm. Cavendish swore he saw the dirt and grime graze off his tongue, and he was surprised that even HE didn’t flinch at the taste of himself. He finished the new bowl of soup, far less quickly than the rest of them. He did finish however, leaning back in his chair. He looked exhausted, and the sigh that escaped his mouth let Cavendish know he was about to pop. Drax reached for his belt, and unbuckled himself, letting himself free of his cloth confines. Cavendish watched as he rubbed at his hairy, plump stomach, slowly. As if he was taunting him. The damn thing was nudging the table in its size, and Cavendish swore he never saw the man so docile. So vulnerable and content with himself. Cavendish got up again, and poured the rest of the broth into the bowl. Just enough for one more. Just a little something extra to push him.

“Alright, you can finish the pot, since ya hungrier and uglier than any pest I’ve ever seen.”

Drax burped into his hand, lightly shaking his head in protest. Drax ate enough to feed a number of men, the fact that he didn’t cough it all back up was a surprise to anyone who didn’t know him. He put his hand on his belly, giving it a nice pat. Soft, hairy, and hot from the oh so big meal he just finished eating. Drax sighed, but pushed himself through it, bringing the broth to his mouth, and greedily slurping at the remains. Cavendish had to hold onto the bowl for him, nursing him like a wee babe, and oh so carefully massaging his big, bulging stomach. Drax gasped as he finished, as if he had just put his head underwater.

“Alright, I’m done now, Micheal.”

“Should be, you finished the pot.”

Cavendish took the plates and put them away (leaving it for someone else to clean, obviously), only to come back with something in his hands. Drax looked damn near dazed, before he looked at the wrapping in his hands, suspicious, as if it were a damn weapon.

“Hell is that?”

“Dessert.”

Granted, they were old, but desserts were desserts. He held onto Drax’s chin, forcing his mouth open and pushing the treat past his lips. They were simple ginger cookies he picked up before they left for shore, but they were still fairly tasty. Not that Drax noticed. His poor body ached and his stomach grumbled, begging for him to stop. Drax the vision of gluttony, greed, and lust. He stuffed the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and upon Drax FINALLY swallowing, Cavendish pressed his lips against his, slowly gracing his tongue with his own. The taste of beef, booze, and sugar, was exactly what Cavendish craved. He looked into his dazed eyes, lightly patting his cheek.

“Better not catch you digging through the trash next time, Drax. You want yourself stuffed, you come to me. Get it?”

“...Aye.”

He patted his stomach once more. He was a filthy, greasy, fat, barbaric man.

Was it any wonder he had to dive in for seconds?

#asks #not transformers #The North Water

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

Hi! I LOVE your stuff sooo much<3 for your 13 nights could I request 4- Michael, 5- Calum, 6- Luke, and 12- Ashton ? <3 <3 Can't wait to read them :)

6. “I want to bite you, too.” “A human’s bite won’t hurt, it would probably just tickle.”

Not even going to attempt to make this short because 1) it’s luke and 2) i’m just not capable. oh well. This is also written in third person with she/her pronouns as it’s in line with my vampire fic with Luke

Warnings: involves biting and blood drinking (nothing gory) while in a sexual situation.

• • • •

She’d heard being feasted on by a vampire was a very tantric, electrically charged and erotic moment. It was the ultimate high and while she and Luke became more physical as their relationship continued to flourish, she began to wonder more and more what it would feel like.

The first time she asked Luke to bite her neck he was taken aback. She always gave him a shock factor with something, he’s never met a human like her. After his initial shock, he was adamant on a hard ‘no.’ His response was so clipped she didn’t bother to push him and buried down the rejection inside her.

The second time she asked was while they were walking his grounds. He was in the middle of retelling an encounter with Elvis when she blurted out, “I want you to bite me.”

Luke sighed, took her hands in his and brought them to his lips so he could kiss them. His crystal blue eyes stare into hers, unblinking but trying to get a read out of hers.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

“I heard it doesn’t hurt. I trust you. I want to...be connected to you.”

“You already are connected to me, lovie,” he rests his forehead against hers. Her sweet floral scent of her blood invades his mind, but he inhales deeply. “In more ways than you know. My heart doesn’t beat but if it did it would be calling your name.”

“Then why don’t you want to?” she asks sadly. Luke groans, he hates making her feel sad.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to since I first saw you. You may trust me but I don’t trust myself. I’m already extremely careful with you, this would be even more...demanding of my willpower that always crumbles away when I’m with you.”

“Really?” she chuckles gently.

“Yes, silly girl. You drive me insane.”

“Well...what’s it like to bite a human?”

“For me or the human?”

“Both.”

Luke sighs, he never wants to keep anything from her but also doesn’t want to share this so out in the open. There isn’t anyone for miles within earshot but this topic is touchy. Feasting on humans is what caused the mask mandate in the first place. A vampire’s bite became the most highly wanted and most illegal “drug” there is.

He took her hand that lead her inside to his trinket room. It’s where he feels most himself, surrounded by his most prized possessions but his most valuable is Y/N. Not that she’s a possession but she’s the most valuable companion. He sits down and she drapes herself across his lap.

“Tell me,” she demands. He pokes her nose.

“For humans it’s like a drug. I’ve heard different reactions but each one always makes the human feel light, extra light and slightly dizzy but then increases as the feast continues. Some have hallucinated, some black out, and some say it’s the ultimate high. It’s a pure form of arousal. For me--vampires--it’s very replenishing. We almost get a little buzz as well but nothing compared to a human. We’re fully satisfied and in turn, the human wants to be satisfied in other ways. Sexually.”

“Oh. So...you don’t want to bite me because you don’t want to be...I’m sorry. I don’t understand why you don’t want to,” she shakes her head.

Luke smiles and strokes the backs of his fingers against her throat. Her skin is warm, her pulse strong but fluttering like a hummingbird.

“I’ve already told you, I do want to. It’s just...I don’t want it to be too much for you. What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t. Please, Luke. It can only be the one time, I swear. I won’t push you but I want to experience everything I can with you. You bite me anyway so what’s the difference?”

Luke lets out a loud laugh then squeezes her thigh affectionately. “The difference is that I bite you to get you aroused, I’m not drawing blood. But all right...next time, we’ll try it and see how it goes.”

“Is it next time now?” she breathes against his curls. She kisses his temple.

“No, now it’s time for your shift at the Bar.”

Luke had asked Michael for help on feasting and was surprised to find that Michael had only done it once with Kitty. It was a wonderful moment shared between them but he felt like he didn’t have to keep doing it and doubts he’d ever do it again. Kitty felt the same, saying it would only be for special occasions or of the mood called for it.

Luke felt some reassurance from that but he made a promise to Y/N and he vowed to never break a promise to her.

After Y/N’s shift at the Bar, he drew her a bath with some lavender salts and candles. He joined her and washed her hair, pressing gentle kisses to the space between her shoulder blades. The way her heart kept jumping he knew she was thinking it would happen right now, but this was all preparation.

He wanted her completely relaxed, her head clear of all tension. When they toweled off, they remained without clothes and he brought her to his bed. He laid her down gently and began pressing his lips to her warm skin.

“I promised we’d try but there are some rules first,” he says swiping his tongue over her nipple.

“Rules?” she sighs, her body already aching for more of his touch.

“Yes, rules. First one is that you tell me to stop if you need me to stop. Don’t worry about hurting me feelings, you say the word and I’m done, all right?” he asks, eyes burning into hers. She licks her lips and nods. “Second rule, I need you to stay completely still, I’m using all my willpower. Third rule--”

“This is a very long list,” she interrupts tucking a curl behind his ear.

Luke snags her fingers in his hand, kisses her fingertips then sets them on the bed. “Rule number three is to not touch me, just in case.”

“I can’t touch you?” she pouts.

“It might jostle you or make me release my venom.”

“Were you like this with Celeste and Simone?” she asks quietly.

“No, because I didn’t care about them as I do you.” He leans up and kisses both her cheeks, then her lips ever so gently. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she exhales, her heart hammering.

“Tell me the rules...” he whispers stamping his kisses down her jaw.

“Tell you to stop...stay still and...” she sighs as his tongue strikes across the side of her neck, “and don’t touch you.”

“That’s my good girl. Where do you want me to do it?” his lips hover over her pulse point.

“Here,” she points with a shaky finger to the space just above her left breast.

Luke hums then travels his lips in that spot. He removes her hand gently, then sucks lightly on her skin, bringing the blood forth. He’s hyperaware of her breath, the race of her heart and the stillness of her body. He opens his mouth wider, lets his incisors extend then punctures her skin.

She gasps and Luke moans at the warmth of her blood, it tastes a thousand times sweeter than she smells and he begins to drink. Slowly. It warms him completely, fills him with a different form of desire. Her breathing hitches, small moans bubbling up from inside her and it’s music to his ears.

He hears her fingers tap against the sheet, aching to touch him but she listens to his orders and stays still. He’s mindful of how much he’s feasting and after one last pull, he releases his fangs then licks the puncture wound so she can begin healing. He kisses that spot multiple times, it’s a combination of her warm skin and his ice cold bite marks.

He lifts his gaze to her and she’s completely blissed out. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes fluttering. Luke hovers above her, cups her cheek and tilts her face to look at him.

“How are you? Are you with me?” he asks softly.

She sighs turning into his palm. He kisses her forehead, then her eyelashes before stopping at her ear. “Are you dizzy?” She makes a small grunting noise.

He kisses her cheek then rushes to his cupboard downstairs that holds all of her favorite sweet treats. Sugar usually helps the humans after a feasting, it helps them come down. While he gazes at his supply she begins to cry for him, calling his name.

He chooses a candy bar than flies back to his room where he finds her trying to fall off the bed. Tears fall down her cheek and he’s quick to cradle her in his arms.

“I’m right here, lovie. Here, eat this.” He rips open the candy bar and holds it to her lips. “This will help.”

She nibbles on the chocolate, eyes still partially closed as she tries to swim through her head. Luke’s heard after a feasting the humans are in a sort of subspace. He’s never done after care with anybody else (especially with Celeste and Simone) but he cares deeply for Y/N.

“Better?” he asks after she takes a few more bites.

“Mhm,” she sighs nuzzling into his chest. Her fingers curl into his light chest hair. “I want to bite you, too.”

Luke smiles, kisses her hair and strokes her cheek with his thumb until her eyes open a bit wider. They’re glazed over.

“A human’s bite won’t hurt, it would probably tickle.”

“Please?” her mouth opens the tiniest bit as she attempts to nip at his chest. She just ends up falling into him and Luke chuckles.

“Let’s discuss this when you’re more coherent, lovie, okay?”

She sighs again and Luke gazes out his window. The moon is high in the sky and the way it reflects on her skin, illuminating her, he’s come to a realization. He can’t exist without her, she’s officially become a part of him that has overridden the other feasting he’s done in his existence.

Should he change her if she feels the same? They could marry and have children of their own while she was human but eventually she would die. This is also why he didn’t want to bite her, he knew the bond would be concrete, set in stone just like his heart that somehow still sings for her.

• • • •

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#13 nights of blurbs #luke hemmings blurb #vampire!luke #vampire!luke blurb #luke hemmings #luke blurb #luke smut #luke au #luke hemmings au #luke 5sos #luke writing #luke hemmings writing

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benhardypout-archive · 3 years

Photo

004. thank you, alex

a/n: so this is one of my Wonty "comfort fics" - so it's far from canon or never followed the original plot - which i would probably never publish (unless there's one i would like to share), but this time in this fic which i titled "Dirty Little Secret", I'm just going to post some chapters which I enjoyed writing. So the number is the chapter of this fic, and this is the chapter 4, hence, 004. Enjoy reading! 🙈

Perhaps, my crush on Monty was getting out of hand.

I flipped through the Liberty yearbook which Tyler lent me only to feast my eyes over the photos of the guy in Jersey no. 32 through the weekend, as I sat on the floor with my back against the bed.

Montgomery de la Cruz, I chanted in my head, reading his name printed in bold letters.

I stopped by a certain picture of his, running my fingers over the glossy paper, tracing his face. Tyler was lucky to have taken this rare shot of him smiling beautifully like this; those white teeth showing. He was leaning back and wearing a blue tank top. For once, he looked really happy…

I should probably ask Tyler the story behind this shot.

My phone rang a message.

I, mindlessly, searched for it, not keeping my eyes away from the image. I could feel my heart expanding by this simple picture of him.

Bringing my phone to my face, there’s a message from Alex: U free this afternoon?

Basically, I'm free for the whole day.

I typed a quick reply: Yes.

And not long after, Alex texted back asking us to meet up at this mall, only a five minute drive.

I wonder if this hang out thing meant anything or just platonic. Anyway, Alex seemed nice. I would love to get to know him more and perhaps get acquainted.

Looking back to the yearbook, I'm so tempted to cut the picture. Or maybe I could just ask Tyler just give me this specific yearbook, like a gift.

* * *

Alex took me bowling. And I'm not so good with the game but so far I'm having fun.

"You're so good at this," I said as Alex hit another strike.

He smiled. "Nah."

"Now, don't be modest on me," I chuckled lightly and took a bowling ball from the rack and positioned it on my hand, adjusting to its weight. Walking by the lane, I put on a stance and ran my tongue over my lower lip, aiming for a strike. Not that I'm expecting to hit one, which of course didn't happen. I looked at Alex, throwing my hands in defeat. "No, not good at this."

Alex went to hit next and of course, another strike. He raises both his arms dramatically and spun around facing me, smiling victoriously, cocking a brow.

"I give up!" I chuckled and sat down by the bench.

"You're named Winston for a reason," Alex commented, sitting beside me.

"What does that mean?"

"Winston, like Winner. Root word, win."

I laughed, throwing my head back a little. "Damn. I think I'm not doing my name justice, then."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Let's just eat. I'm starving."

"Sure."

We walked aimlessly along the mall in silence, with a few side comments about the boutiques or the shops we passed on. Then we saw and spotted some familiar faces. Well, Alex introduced me to some of them, simply pointing from afar and telling their names, since I barely knew anyone from Liberty yet, who also worked here.

Then my stomach decided to embarrass me and did a growl as we reached the food court.

“Someone’s whining,” Alex retorted.

“I know right.”

Since it’s the afternoon, there’s a lot of tables to choose from, not to mention, stalls without queues. A lot of options for us. But we just settled on some corn dogs.

"We should see some movie some time," Alex suggested. "How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, okay." I thought back if I had plans. Is looking at pictures of Monty in the yearbook counted as one?

He smiled and told me the time and rendezvous. And then added, "I-it's a date,"

I blinked. "A d-date?"

"I meant friendly date," he quickly clarified, faking a smile. I could see dejection in his eyes.

I wanted to apologize but perhaps I’m just overthinking the situation and putting meaning on how Alex was acting the past days. I may try to brush it off and act like I’m not noticing anything, but it’s there. Yet, he said so himself ‘friendly date’, maybe he really just meant us to be friendly.

"So you like someone else?" Alex asked after a moment which of course caught me off guard. I should’ve expected that question to come. I almost coughed my Coke out. Good thing, I had swallowed it down. My heart began to skip.

Should I tell him?

I avoided his gaze, and took another sip on my drink. "Uhm… yes," I said in a low voice.

"Oh…. right. Of course."

"Alex-"

"I-I'm just asking," Alex cut me off. Though, I’m afraid I’m already ruining this budding friendship and it’s the last thing I wanted. But, if he ever decides and calls off our little friendly movie date, I'd understand.

"I… Maybe I just need some company," he went on, resting his arms on the table as if for comfort. "And I… I actually like Zach," he glanced at me.

Zach. Oh. I know him.

"I kissed him," he murmured so low I almost didn’t catch it. Then he snorted, lightly. "But… of course he said he's straight."

"I'm sorry," I said in empathy. I wanted to reach for his hands but then decided against it. Then a scenario flashed in my head where I kissed Monty and then he said the same thing-- Ouch!

"It's all right. Thanks for going out with me, and listening." Alex interrupted, saving me from my disastrous thoughts.

I nodded. But then... he asked the question I’m shit scared to answer.

"May I ask who you like?"

Fuck...

I shifted on my seat. "Oh… uhm…It's..." I looked at him, warily. He was indifferent… yet. Wait till you hear this.

With a deep shaky breath I say, "Monty."

* * *

No words had been spoken since, besides the sensational "What the… fuck?" reaction from Alex who wavered before saying the word. And an awkward "Yep" from me, popping the 'p'.

We just went to our own cars and left after.

I'm sure Alex hated me now, or worse, despised me.

I knew it.

Maybe liking Monty would make you lose some friends-- lose some potential friends, rather. We're not even friends.

Was that what Monty meant when he said I got no friends here, as his own experience? Because people didn't like him?

I received a text from Alex later that night, apologizing from how he reacted. Which relieved me a hundred fold. And then he added…

Alex: But… Monty? I just can't believe it! And I think he's as straight as a ruler.

Winston: It's all right. Still a plastic ruler can be bent.

Alex: Correction. Wooden ruler. It just breaks in half, and he'll just break you.

Okay, I couldn't argue with that.

Winston: I guess. But could you keep a promise not to tell anyone?

Alex: Ok

Winston: Thanks.

Alex: So tomorrow. Same time. Same place. And move on from Monty. There's far better guys than that asshole.

Hope it's that easy…

* * *

I'm glad that Alex didn't change towards me. He still smiled and spoke to me as if I didn't tell him something, which he found horrible.

After buying two movie tickets, we went to the snack bar to buy some popcorn.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." I heard Alex mutter under his breath, causing me to turn and follow his gaze, only for my world to stop, seeing Monty by the entrance.

I forgot the ability to move until Alex nudged me. I blinked and turned to him. He has this amused smile.

"Seriously, Winston, close your fucking mouth. Some fly would literally rent in there."

I blushed, and sneaked another glance at Monty, longer than necessary, then to the other jocks he’s with. They’re standing by the ticket booth. I shifted closer to Alex and poked his side. "Zach's among them."

"I know. I hate it." Alex then stepped forward as it's our turn. "Two medium-sized popcorn please. Plain... And two cokes?" He told the guy behind the counter and turned to me.

"Coke," I confirmed.

And he went on ordering. But half of my attention was on the noise from the jocks. God… I couldn't believe I would see Monty here.

Oh, fuck.

I desperately searched for any mirror or any surface where I could see my reflection and fixed my hair as I saw them making their way towards us!!!

"Hi, Alex." Zach said beside me. I, discreetly, give Alex another nudge.

Alex barely glanced. "Hi."

"Zachy, I'm gonna have these Hot Tamales," Monty announced, tapping his fingers on the glass display counters, pointing over the Hot Tamales candy bars wrapped in red.

He caught my gaze and it was too late to retrieve my eyes back. So, I threw a soft smile at him, hoping I wasn’t too obvious about my loud attraction.

"Hey, Winston. You and Alex on a date?" he asked instead, and I swore I felt blood rush through my cheeks.

"N-no," I shook my head at once.

"What about you and Zach, Monty? You guys on a date?" Alex cuts in.

"Yeah. Actually it's the four of us, Scott and Charlie."

Scott and Charlie smiled and waved, making Alex roll his eyes.

Zach cleared his throat and looked at Alex. I guessed that maybe he wanted to speak to him… alone, so being a good friend as I am, I stepped aside and took the chance to stand beside Monty. But I made sure to be discreet and just tapped my fingers against the counter, my eyes fixated at the menu posted in front.

Zach whispered something to Alex and I could only catch a few words like 'mad' and 'me', giving me enough hint of what he's saying.

I tensed feeling Monty moved closer to me. "Never thought I'd see you here."

I blushed and glanced at him. "Yeah. Small world."

Then he asked me if we’re going to watch the same movie. A horror one.

“I think we should just sit together, then." Monty suggested, glancing over to Zach and Alex. "Especially, it looks like Zach and Alex have something to talk about."

I chuckled, "Sure." Would love to sit next to you.

"Winston," I heard Alex called and saw that our popcorn was ready. I took one last glance at Monty and uttered a "See you later," before making my way back to Alex.

"What did Zach tell you?" I whispered as we made our way inside the cinema.

"He wants to talk. I said yes."

I just hummed.

"Dammit, Winston. I still like him and I hate it," Alex whined a moment later, making me smile.

We took the seat in the middle section, since it's not too far and not too close, and we could watch properly. Different trailers were being shown and I noticed that there were only a few cinema-goers or maybe only few wanted to see this movie.

Later, I spotted Monty and the group inside looking for a seat, so I gave a secret wave at them, specifically, at Monty. He called his friends after he saw me. Then they made their way to us. I hid a smile. My heart wouldn't shut up about it, and it literally wanted to jump off my chest when Monty took the seat next to me.

Calm down, Winston. I’m afraid he could hear it from here, screaming his name.

Zach tried and asked Alex if he could sit beside him, only receiving a nod from Alex. But I could practically read his mind regretting taking the middle seats, when we could just take the space on either right or left wing, and have all the spaces on our own.

"Are you following me?" I heard Alex mumble to Zach.

"No. I… Monty pointed us here and…maybe I did, by deciding to sit next to you," Zach admitted.

I decided and just diverted my attention to Monty and his Hot Tamales. "Does that taste good?"

"You wanna taste?" He gestured one to my direction. I swallowed, not expecting his sudden offer. Or maybe it's because his shoulder brushed against mine.

"N-no. Thanks."

"Come on," Monty began tearing one package open and handed it to me, "Have some."

I glanced at him and reluctantly reached, staring intently at his hand, tempting to hold it.

"No, don't taste that." One of the jocks interrupted. I stopped. "You will get addicted," he added, grinning.

"Oh, fuck off, Charlie," Monty waved. "Come on. Gimme your hand."

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" I tried to joke.

And I blushed seeing his boyish smile. "Oh no. It's a love potion," he winked.

Now that sent me. If I happen to be an ice, I've melted by now.

You don't need to give me any love potion, Monty. I wanted to say.

With a trembling hand, I held my palm out and he poured some on it. I uttered a thanks and put everything in my mouth, letting it melt in my tongue.

Charlie was right, it's kind of addicting.

"So?"

"I think I'm in love," I blurted, not breaking eye contact.

He looked away.

Oh no! Wrong move, Winston.

"I mean your friend's right. It's addicting."

He turned back to me and smiled. "I know right." He, then, handed me the Hot Tamales. “Here, have it.”

It would be a shame to take his offer down, so I just took it, our fingers brushing; enough to send electricity down my body. I wondered if he felt it too.

Wishful thinking, Winston.

"Why are you taking Monty's food? It might be contaminated," Alex whispered.

I shrugged him off and offered it to him. "You should try."

"No thanks."

I couldn't help but find Alex's distaste towards Monty, funny. Even though I shouldn't. But I'm afraid I might continue teasing him about it.

The movie finally started. And it's supposed to be scary as it's a horror film. But I'm not a bit scared. However, I'm tempted to hold Monty's hand that was on the armrest between us. But more tempted to pull the armrest up and just lean onto him. Maybe act scared?

As he took his hand away to get some popcorn - since I decided to share my popcorn with him and his friends, who I now know the names of: Charlie and Scott - I, sneakily, placed my hand on the armrest in hopes to be held by him.

Sadly, after he took a handful of popcorn he didn't put his hand back, but my hand stayed where it was. And I just forgot all my attempts on flirting.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

And I tensed not because the scene was scary but because his hand, finally, landed on mine. I hid a smile. And when I thought he would notice and take it away, he didn't, and just stayed there. Though, I wasn't sure if he was ever aware of our hands, or he's too focused on the movie to even notice.

My heart pounded so loud, I could barely hear the show, and could hardly concentrate on it, blocking everything around me but only his presence. I’m only aware of the warmth and the weight of his hand on mine, making my throat dry. I just dreamt of kissing him, or simply lean on him, and embrace more of his scent.

Ugh! Shut it, Winston. Try and hold yourself together.

But how, when he’s close like this? Needless to say, his hand on mine?

The movie just ended without me really understanding everything that happened.

Monty made some comments about it, asking me some of it as soon as we got out to the lobby. I just nodded along, agreeing with everything he said. But Charlie argued with him and they went on, leaving me completely clueless, even though we all watched it together. I should've tried and focused on the show, so I could have a proper conversation with him. But until now, the heat of his hand pricked on my skin.

"Winston," Alex called, and began to walk. I hesitated and followed him outside, not giving me the chance to say goodbye to Monty and his friends.

"Are you alright on your own?" he asked

I frowned, blinking once. "Y-yeah."

"I need to go with Zach," he glanced at Zach, who’s busy chatting or probably saying parting words with his buddies, and rolled his eyes back to me. "Said he wants to talk."

"Oh. Sure."

"Again, beware of Monty. Don't be fooled by his good looks."

"So, you admit he looks good."

Alex stammered but soon gave up, sighing. "Whatever Winston. Don't say, I didn't warn you."

"Okay. Have fun with Zach." I gave his shoulder a pat. "And thanks for inviting me. I really had fun," I smiled.

Alex had to roll his eyes again. "I think I know why."

#13rwedit #13rw #wonty #winston williams #montgomery de la cruz #alex standall #zach dempsey #13 reasons why #zalex #winston x monty #zach x alex #*writings #*wonty #*wonty:dirtylittlesecret #*excerpt #otp:igotthegoodsideofyou #*2021 #hope you guyss like!!!! ♥

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

tapestry 👑 XXIV

Warnings: dark elements

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader prepares for her wedding.

Note: Alright, so I managed another chapter. I’m working an awful shift that gives me no time before or after and it’s all so depressing. That being said, I think we all sense cummies in our near future as we get closer and closer to the thottening. Anyways. Enjoy. :)

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

masterlist

You were halfway through your glass of wine before the next guests arrived. Your mother’s voice floated in from the corridor as you tried to hide in your cup from both the king and his dowager mother. You looked up as Steve lifted his head too and Sarah lifted a brow in mild interest.

“Oh, you’re rather strapping, aren’t you, sir?” Your mother trilled with a bawdy laugh.

“I suppose,” Lord Barnes’ returned and you had to resist a chuckle of your own. You kept your face straight as you listened patiently. “You must be Lady Malford.”

“I must be,” She affirmed. “Lord Barnes, was it? I recognize you. You did imbibe at the harvest a few years past and found yourself under the table and nearly up my own skirts.”

“It was not intentional, if you would believe it,” He countered dully. “A regrettable night.”

“I should hope not. The best nights are spent with liquor warm in one’s stomach,” She chimed.

“After you, my lady,” Barnes diverted her. “My lord.”

“Lord Barnes,” Your father said evenly.

Hugh appeared in the doorway at once and entered. He stopped short and spoke with his eyes to the ceiling. “Lord Willis and Lady Elizabeth have arrived, your highness,” He announced. “And the Lord James Barnes.”

“Thank you, Hugh,” Steven pushed himself to his feet and you rose in kind. Your mother was the first to enter with your father close behind.

“Lady Elizabeth.” Hugh introduced your mother. “Lord Willis,” Your father stood beside your mother as they bowed to the king, “And Lord Barnes.” The third stepped forward and bent in kind.

“I do prefer--” Your mother began as she straightened.

“Bessie,” The dowager’s voice rose above hers. “I should have guessed.”

“Your highness,” Your mother greeted Sarah genially. “I was not informed you’d be attending.”

“I thought this mouse was some distant niece of yours, a cousin even,” You looked to the royal widow; she was almost smiling. “Though with a tongue so candid, I cannot say I’m surprised. She does lack your humour, alas.”

“Oh, she merely hoards it,” Your mother returned.

“She must get that from her father then,” Sarah chided. “Do come sit. I think you should keep me from nodding off through this dinner.”

“I cannot promise I won’t,” You mother approached as the old queen beckoned her forth.

“Time has seen you well,” Sarah said. “Pardon me, lady,” She turned to you, “Would you offer your seat to your mother? My son does have another shoulder you can sit upon.”

“Certainly,” You assured her and rounded to the other side as your mother took your place.

“Bess, you old cow, you do seem as well-fed as ever,” Sarah sat and pulled your mother down with her.

“And you do seem as decrepit as your soul,” Your mother cackled. “I daresay, I do cling to my youth yet. Does the grave call to you, hmm? Does the descent seem less perilous?”

“The prospect of rest has never frightened me. Truthfully, it does seem a comforting fate,” Sarah laughed softly under her breath. “I see you are still latched onto Willis the Weasel.”

“We do have quite a cozy little burrow between us,” Your mother boomed as you father scowled and sat at her other side. “A few kits of our own.”

“I only ever had the one but he is more a snake. No surprise he does choose to feast on a mouse.” She remarked.

“She looks a mouse, but she’s a fierce beast indeed,” Your mother assured. “Why, I was sure by now you’d gone to stay with your husband.”

“Not just yet,” Sarah said. “Merely his former abode. A castle most quaint… and quiet. No doubt a relief from this den of fools.”

“Surely, but how bored we should be without fools to entertain us,” Sarah poured your mother a goblet of wine and you looked across at them astounded.

You’d known your mother to have been at court as a youth but she never mentioned such a kinship to the queen. The two of them were enlivened by their former acquaintance and you were stunned to find the dowager almost giddy. Her son looked just as surprised. The women leaned in as they lowered their voices and began to titter over their rims.

“Hugh,” Steven motioned to the footman, “You may call for the food. We’re ready to begin.”

The servant nodded and marched off to his task. The king sat back and held his chin in his hand as he watched the ladies laugh quietly. Slowly his eyes strayed and found you watching him. The wrinkles left his forehead as he smiled and sat up. He leaned on the arm of the chair and towards you.

“My love,” He whispered. “You handled her as well as any can. Even me.”

You nodded and lowered your lashes. “Thank you.”

“Perhaps your mother can soften her yet,” He said. “But she does not hate you entirely. It is only her way.”

“I shall be patient.” You replied softly.

“As I will be,” He countered with a smirk, “As I have been.“

👑

Your mother insisted on silk the colour of rose petals. She said it made you glow though you felt little more than an impostor. The first fitting had been near disastrous but the second was reassuring. This one was stressful.

In a week, you'd be taken away to the castle of Heron's Ford. There you would spend the fortnight preceding the wedding in isolation with your mother and your maids. The tradition offered a brief respite before you were to face the inevitable but in your mind, it was barely long enough.

You stood before the long mirror as your mother placed pins to mark the last of her adjustments. Along the neckline, she'd woven silver and magenta ribbons over the bodice. The shoulders were wide set and displayed your collarbone without seeming risque. The sleeves were fitted to your wrists and slitted with white satin. The skirts were full and the same silver ribbons trimmed the hem.

You inhaled deeply and sighed. Your mother looked up from her work and stood straight.

"Dear… what is it that troubles you so?" She asked.

"Oh mother, you are braver than me for I feel a terrible dread." You mourned. "I have felt it since… since the last queen was marched to her death."

Your mother frowned and set aside the pins. "We all do. Ladies, that is. To think a queen could be cast aside so easily but… it does embolden us to think an earl's daughter can be raised all the same."

"I know I'm fortunate but I do not feel it." You lamented. "I know little of being a queen, I was a poor enough lady."

"You will learn because you must," Your mother said. "And there is one thing that should secure you against the fate of the queen."

"Which is?" You wondered.

"An heir. If you can bear a child, or more, you will not need to fear." Your mother touched your sleeve kindly. "I never struggled to conceive though I did bear only daughters and your sister quickened almost upon her wedding night."

"And if I cannot?"

"You mustn't think of that now," Your mother said. "You must cling to hope until it is extinguished."

"I fear I've not had hope since I was a girl." You admitted. "I have ever disappointed father and I do think my husband shall one day be as cruel to me as he is."

"My girl, you are… blind. I see the king and how he dotes on you. He abides more of you than any. I see that he does long for you deeply and while I cannot promise his faithfulness I do see his persistence." She mulled. "Why, you only need tend your wifely duties and I think he should be pleased."

"And if I cannot?"

She frowned. "Well, a wife's ability barely matters for a husband should perform his duty either way."

You hung your head. "I am trying." You uttered. "But I cannot accept it though I know it is not up to me." You turned from her and tried not to loosen the pins. "This crown shall ensure the hate I've sown among the court. I know it."

"Dear, you do have too little esteem in yourself," She chided. "These people do not hate you. They fear the king and his impulses. They have seen the unbelievable and they do appease the king's wrath. They see a girl like a fawn; terrified but caught in a hunter's snare."

"Is that what they see?"

"They should. And if they do not see that, they see the blood of a queen upon their hands and that they do fear that theirs could just as easily be spilled." Your mother came up beside you.

"You are not Eleanor, you are not trained to be queen. And you are surely not Sarah. But you are you. You are kind and you are sweet. Those are as much strengths as any." Your mother turned you to face her and cradled your face in her hands. "You are strong for you have remained resilient through all this."

"But I am scared." You breathed.

"That, my girl, is human. We are all afraid." She said. "Even me. Even your father. Even the king."

You stared at your mother and she drew you into an embrace. "I love you, mother."

"I love you too, dear," She cooed. "My queen."

"Mother," You pulled away from her and she grinned.

"I must practice." She said. "It'll take some getting used to but I think I can manage. Oh! Imagine your father. How he should hate to say it."

You shook your head and giggled. "Then I shall make him call me nothing else."

There was a knock at the door. You had dismissed Rita as you'd quickly tired of her silence after breaking your fast that morning. You crossed to the doors carefully and opened the left one. Your mother watched from behind as she grabbed her pins once more.

"Lord Barnes," You greeted him in surprise.

"My lady," He returned. "I come bearing a gift from the king."

"Why, my lord, thank you," You replied. "A valiant messenger indeed."

"It is for your wedding, I understand," He said dully. "I see you are already of the mind for preparations."

"Do invite him in, daughter," Your mother called. "I never turn away such a handsome caller."

"Mother," You reproached as you looked over your shoulder.

"We should need a second opinion," She added. "Even a man's."

"I should be on my way. The council does gather." Barnes intoned.

"It will not take very long," She insisted. "Only if you should continue to delay."

"Very well," He relented and you shuffled backwards to let him through.

He closed the door behind him and you turned back to approach your mother. You stood before the mirror as she placed another pin. "Now, Lord Barnes, do you think I should add another ornament along her bodice?"

He squinted and clung to the box in his hands. He stared at you in the mirror and shrugged. "My lady, I am not one for fashion but I do think she looks fine indeed." He replied. "And I do offer another ornament already."

"Ah yes," Your mother nodded, "Let us see this newest bauble."

He removed the lid from the box and held it out. A thin silver coronet with pearls along it sat upon a cushion. "The king did say it is merely a placeholder until the coronation," He explained.

"A rather extravagant placeholder," Your mother took the coronet and lifted it as she turned to you. She lowered it onto your brow and stepped back. "Beautiful."

"Indeed," Barnes agreed. "I think I prefer the simplicity."

"As you would," You snorted.

Your mother tilted her head as she looked between you and Barnes but said nothing.

"This court would distort the merest turn of phrase and the simplest stitch of thread," Barnes countered. "I do not think it unnatural to long for the simple."

"If one should abide the court, they must bide its nuisances," You challenged. "There is but one escape from such."

"Surely, we do abide," He said firmly. "As painful as it should prove."

Your nostrils flared as you met his gaze at last. He finally looked away from the mirror as he turned to you directly. You glared at him as his brow crinkled. You set your jaw as you sneered at him.

"I thank you, Lord Barnes, for delivering this gift." You reached to touch the coronet. "I shall be a beaming bride indeed."

"So you will," He nodded curtly.

"You may tell the king I thank him," You said stiffly as you lowered your hand and grasped your skirts tightly. "That I do look forward to our union most… eagerly."

"As you wish…" He bowed and slowly backed away, "My lady."

"My lord," You said all too sharply as he retreated to the door. "We should hate to keep you from council."

"I should be in time, I think," He contended. "Good day, ladies."

"And you, Lord Barnes." Your mother answered as you returned your attention to your reflection.

The door opened and closed again. A silence pervaded the chamber as your mother watched you in the mirror. You avoided her gaze as you pretended to adjust the coronet.

"You are mad at him." She mused.

"No." You lied.

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Don't play coy with me, girl. I suspect if I hadn't been here, he might not have been spared a strike across his cheek."

"If you were not here, he'd not have been permitted in my chambers." You declared.

"You doubt your potential, my dear, yet you sound a queen to me already." She snickered.

"He does not bother me," You insisted. "He is but the king's man. I tolerate him."

Your mother's smile fell. Her eyes found yours in the mirror and she quirked her head. She dropped her arms and her hands went to her hips.

"Oh, dear," She said though you could not figure if she referred to you or expressed the concern which wrinkled her forehead. "Do not let that boy affect you so."

"He does not." You retorted.

"He does so," She argued. "Oh, no no no. I do like your head as it is and not only for that pretty gift the king has sent you."

"Mother," You huffed.

"Daughter," She mocked. "Do not think others will not see as I do. That man is more than the king's man. You encourage him this and he shall want to be yours."

"That's silly. He is loyal to his master. He has done his bidding, delivered his gifts, delivered me." You spat. "He is beholden but certainly not to me."

"The heart is silly," She grabbed your arm as she stepped before you and looked you in the face. "And you should know it is hardly restrained by decorum."

You stared back at her then looked to the door. You surely didn't care so much for Barnes. You couldn't, he was the king's friend and you were the king's betrothed. It could not be. So then why were you so mad at him? And why did it hurt so much?

#tapestry #Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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madamebaggio · 4 years

Photo

Notes: Previously...

LAST CHAPTER!!!!

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!

Finally. This smut here near killed me! At least I finished another work, so I can focus on the others as well.

Thank you so much for everybody that followed and supported this story.

I hope you like the ending.

REMEMBER PEOPLE, THIS IS SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT! ;)

***

Chapter 6

As soon as Gretel had a chance she cornered Nuala.

“Miss Gretel?” Nuala called uncertainly.

“We’re talking. Now.” Gretel started dragging her along.

“Maybe you should talk to my brother.” Nuala protested.

“Your brother sucks at communicating.” Gretel told her, pushing her into an empty room and closing the door behind them. “And he’s confusing the fuck out of me. You need to help me out.”

Nuala looked like she would rather eat glass than do this, but then she sighed. “Did you wear the red dress because of him?”

“I…” Gretel pressed her lips together. “He suggested it, yes.”

“I’m very confused.” Nuala sighed.

“You are confused? Can you imagine me?”

“Did he give you a present?”

“How did you know that?” Gretel asked in shock.

“It’d be the next logical step in your courtship.”

“My what?” Gretel screeched.

Now Nuala was the one looking confused. “Your courtship.” She paused. “You did know my brother was courting you, right?”

“No! How could I… How could he… Oh my god!”

“That explains a lot.” Nuala mused.

“You think?” Gretel took a deep breath. “How… How would I know he’s courting me?”

“Well, it’s quite obvious once you know the signs.” Nuala explained. “The challenge to spar and the yielding.”

“Wait, that was the first step?”

“As Nuada is a warrior who wishes for a warrior mate, yes. It’s normal to challenge the one you desire to a spar. Once you yield, it means you accept his courtship.”

Oh fuck. That was why he was so interested in her yielding and kept bringing it up. To him, it’d meant they were an item.

“Then he suggested you learned magic, didn’t he?”

“Yes…”

“This can be considered a first gift.” Nuala informed her. “He offered you knowledge, even if he wasn’t the one to properly teach you.”

But he had been the one. He was the one that showed her the truth of it. After he told her about it -while he deep inside her -magic became easier to understand and reach. So, in fact, Nuada was the one who gave her the knowledge.

“What else?” Gretel wanted to know.

“Once he asked you to wear his color, he was clearly staking a claim.”

“That was why he told me to wear the red dress?”

“Yes! And then he gave you a present, didn’t he?”

Gretel groaned. “Yes, a dagger.”

“And you took it, but you didn’t know why he was doing it?” Nuala seemed perplexed.

“No.”

“No wonder he’s so confused.” Nuala hummed. “To him it seems as if you were accepting the courtship, but you never take the next step.”

“Which would be?” Gretel pressed.

Nuala hesitated. “Listen… Courtship for us is different.” She explained. “It doesn’t mean dating and seeing how it goes.” It was funny seeing Nuala even saying something like this. “If Nuada is courting you is because he chose you; body and soul. This is a serious commitment; one made to last.”

“But… We barely know each other.” Gretel spoke softly.

“You really should talk to him.” Nuala offered, equally softly.

“I guess I should.”

***

Gretel knocked on Nuada’s door. “Open up, elf boy. We need to talk.”

The door was suddenly opened. “The last time you just marched in. Why change this now?”

“We need to talk.” She said again, just pushing past him.

Nuada snorted and closed the door after her. “By all means.” He said sarcastically.

Gretel crossed her arms. “It’s come to my attention that you…” Oh lord, she was really going to say that word, wasn’t she? “You’ve been courting me.”

Nuada arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“And that…” She cleared her throat, because this conversation was ridiculous. “We’ve had some cultural misunderstandings about it.”

“Such as?”

“Such as I had no idea what you were up to.” She threw at him.

“I beg your pardon?” She could say that -once in her life- she’d managed to get the great Prince Nuada by surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“No.”

He groaned in frustration. “This all makes much more sense now.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She scoffed. “I didn’t even think you liked me! You never use my name.”

“Those are pet names.”

“They sound condescending the way you use them.” She pointed out.

Nuada sighed. “All this time, it never crossed your mind that I might be actually courting you? I kept coming after you.”

“I’m human! We do things differently.” She protested.

“Clearly.” He grumbled bitterly.

There was a silence between them, and Gretel sighed. “I just… I really don’t understand it. I didn’t think about it that way, and now I’m confused.”

“I did not…” He sighed, clearly frustrated with the whole thing. “I didn’t expect it. The first time we came together was really supposed to be the only one.”

“Then what changed?”

“You. I don’t mean to say you became a different person, but it was from then on that I started really seeing you. And once I started seeing…” Another sigh. “There was very little to dislike. You’re strong, brave and smart, and still kind-hearted. You’re a warrior, but you haven’t let that harden your heart or your temperance. As I said…” He gave her a small smile. “Very little to dislike.”

“I…” Gretel’s head was spinning. “This is so sudden. I’d never…”

“Clearly.”

“Look, you have to give me a minute here, okay?” She told him. “I had no idea what was going on until I talked to Nuala.”

“Is this why my sister was feeling so uncomfortable earlier?”

“Probably.” Gretel admitted. “But my point is: I didn’t know I was being courted, or how serious this is for you.”

“So what exactly did you think was happening?” He crossed his arms.

“At first? That you were bored.” She confessed. “The day you came to my room was when it became really confusing to me. Nothing’s been as I’d expected from the first time we fucked on that mess hall.”

Nuada snorted. “Such sweet words.”

She glared at him. “You know that’s exactly what that was. And it’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is that we had very different expectations here, and I’m still adjusting to yours.”

He gave her a look. “What were your expectations?” He wanted to know.

“To understand you and this… Hunger you make me feel.”

That seemed to interest him.

“And you make me so fucking pissed at you sometimes, and then you show this hint of something… And it frustrates me. You frustrate me.” She accused.

“It’s mutual.” He informed her.

“I don’t know what to do with you.” She snapped.

Nuada came closer, close enough to touch, but he didn’t. “Give yourself to me.” He told her firmly. “Let me give myself to you.”

Fuck, that was smooth.

“That sounds awfully permanent.” She indicated.

“What else do you plan on doing with the rest of your life?” He asked. “You could keep an eye on me.”

That surprised a chuckle out of Gretel. “And what will you do?”

“The same.” A pause. “And teach you to fight better.” He added.

She pushed his shoulder and he grabbed her wrist gently. “I am serious.” He told her, his eyes intensely fixed on hers. “And now I understand it might be much for you.”

“Why the dagger?” She asked suddenly. “You could’ve given me anything.”

“Why would I give you a silly trinket when I could give you something useful?” He pointed out.

Fuck this. It was beyond insane, way too much too fast, but at this point? Gretel did not give a single fuck.

There was something about him that made her blood sing and she was going to stick with that.

“If you piss me off, I might kill you.” She warned him.

“You can try, but you’ll need more training to actually manage it.” He pointed out matter-of-factly.

Gretel rolled her eyes. “Funny. How do we seal this?”

He cupped her face. “Say ‘yes’.”

“You know, I feel like I’m selling my…”

“Gretel.” He growled, his fingers sinking into her hair. “Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes.” She said softly.

He kissed her, slower and tenderer than ever before. He cradled her face, took his time with sweet short kisses, until they were both panting.

They helped each other out of their shirts, and Nuada kept slowing Gretel down every time she tried to hurry him along.

“Seriously?” She complained.

“Deadly.” He dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “We’ve been in such a hurry all this time, and only now I realise I missed some spots. This time we go slow.”

Gretel snorted. “You’re already giving me orders?”

Nuada pushed her, so she fell sitting on the bed. “Let me know any time you’re not thoroughly satisfied.”

Gretel rolled her eyes and opened the button of her jeans. “Help a lady, would you?”

Nuada kneeled by the bed and helped her out of her shoes and jeans. She scooted back until she was better positioned in the bed.

Nuada put his hands and knees on the bed and prowled towards her. He dropped a kiss just below her belly button, then pulled her panties down and off.

Nuada palmed her thighs, spreading them wide open. “I believe…” He dropped a kiss to her inner thigh, “I owe you a little something.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you even think about tying me up.”

He smirked at her. “Not this time.” He agreed, dropping another kiss, this one closer to her cunt.

“Not ever, you… Oh my god!” Gretel’s back arched as Nuada licked a strip up her slit, finishing on her clit.

He was not joking when he’d promised he’d take his time the next time he did this. There was no hurry to him whatsoever as he feasted on her cunt. Gretel didn’t know if it was sweet torture or not, as each lap of his tongue ignited her whole being.

He teased her clit with his tongue, used her fingers to open her up until she mindless and her orgasm took her over, like warm water in a bathtub.

She felt it all the way to her toes, feeling sated and drowsy.

Nuada raised his head to look at her, his mouth slick because of her. “Good. Another one.”

“You’ve got be fucking kid…” Before she could finish her protest -which probably wouldn’t be that much of a protest anyway -Nuada lowered his head and started it all over again.

However, this time he wasn’t patient and tender. No, this time he ate her out like she was his last meal. He was merciless as his fingers fucked her, and he used teeth and tongue to drive her insane.

Gretel bit her lower lip so hard she tasted blood, her hands grabbing at the pillow as Nuada kept her pinned down, completely at the mercy of his mouth. She had no idea how long he spent there, but she was sobbing his name and just asking, pleading for him to just fucking…

The second orgasm was harder and more violent than the first and she probably screamed his name really loudly, but… Well… It was a fucking great orgasm.

Nuada chuckled, beyond satisfied with himself, licking his lips like a cat who’d just got the cream. “Pleased already?” He dropped a kiss to her sternum.

“Shut up.” She grumbled.

“Should we stop?” Nuada asked, kissing her clavicle. “You look dead tired.” A kiss to her left shoulder.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gretel grabbed his hair and pulled his mouth to hers for a kiss.

Perhaps all his patience had been used earlier, because this time he didn’t bother trying to slow her down or be gentle.

It was what Gretel loved about kissing (and fucking) Nuada; he didn’t feel the need to treat her like a princess.

She pushed his pants down impatiently, wriggling beneath him. He pushed into her cunt in one smut thrust and Gretel gasped against his mouth. Nuada pulled her thighs snuggly against his waist, before…

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Gretel groaned. “Why do you insist on pinning me?”

Nuada thrusted against her, his hands holding hers down by her head. “I’m not pinning you. I’m holding you.” He promised her as he interlaced their fingers together.

They held onto each other as Nuada fucked her, their breaths coming together, their voices mixing. Gretel felt magic coursing through her again, invading her soul, warming up her veins.

Nuada let go of her hands to grab at her waist, her hps, her thighs as he rutted mercilessly against her, harder and faster. She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing as her body was so sensitive, but she was also so close…

When she came she was once again calling his name and he drank it from her lips, whispering hers back as he spilled inside her.

His body blanketed hers as they stayed there, intertwined, complete.

Gretel chuckled. “Okay…”

Nuada snorted. “Are you trying to turn my room into a greenhouse?”

“Hum?” She hummed confused.

He pushed himself back a bit, so she could see the vines spreading from the bed, some starting to climb up the headboard of the bed.

“So it was a magical fuck.” She commented.

“Always so charming.”

Gretel used his distraction to tumble him to the side and straddle his waist. “I think I should tie you down this time.”

His hands went to her waist. “I’m at your mercy, Gretel.”

She felt warmth spread on her chest. This was so extremely fast and intense, but something told her to run towards it, not away from it. “Yes, you are.” She murmured, leaning forward to kiss him.

***

When they arrived to the meeting the next afternoon, everybody else was already there. Nuala was once again firmly looking at anywhere but them, so… Yeah, she probably already knew what was up.

Gretel got a confirmation of that when the princess gave her a -quick- happy smile.

There was only one chair left, but it was because Nuada tended to stand in the back and act gloomy. This time he marched into the room and sat down, making everyone look at him in shock.

However, he wasn’t looking at them; he was looking at her. He spread his legs open and eyed his own thigh. Gretel snorted, but took the seat offered. He looked beyond satisfied by that, his arm going around her waist.

“What the actual…” Hansel, who’d been balancing his chair on the back legs, fell back from shock -literally.

“What’s going on here?” Red wanted to know.

Mostly everyone seemed too shocked to even comment.

“I thought it was a meeting.” Nuada spoke plainly, like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening.

Hansel had finally got up and he was looking from Nuada to Gretel like he hoped he was hallucinating.

“Can we focus, please?” Gretel asked.

“Honestly?” Liz shook her head. “I’d rather not know. Let’s talk about anything else.”

“No! I want to…” Hansel was silenced by Mina pulling him down to whisper something on his ear.

Gretel looked at Nuada and he was already looking back at her and grinning. “This is going to be fun.”

She snorted, but she was grinning. “You’re such a romantic.”

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #AU #gifs not mine #now complete #hellboy the golden army #hansel and gretel witch hunters #gretel #prince nuada #gretel x prince nuada #why dont we kill each other slowly

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rora-s · 3 years

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Life Series Book 1 Chapter 1: Broken Peace

“Arbor Eliffe! You get back here young lady!” I ran at top speed as Mrs. Greenwood yelled after me brandishing her woven basket over her head.

I laughed like a maniac as I happily got away with the pockets of my jacket stuffed with cookies. However I hadn’t quite reached the woods when a hand reached out and pulled me back by the collar of my coat.

I turned and smiled sheepishly at my father. He didn’t say anything as Mrs. Greenwood caught up to us. “Burian she’s done it again” the woman huffed her breath making little clouds in the cold air with each exhale. “Stole the whole tray the little troublemaker” she prodded me in the stomach with her basket which made me squirm from where my small frame was still being held up by my father gripping my collar.

“I’m sorry Lavender, I'll have Camella bake you a fresh batch if you would like” my father offered.

I looked up at the adults talking over my head. “Hey I still have ‘em here in my pocket” I explained. Reaching in I pulled out a handful of crushed cookies.

My father sighed and Mrs. Greenwood let off a noise that sounded an awful lot like a growl. “I’ll be waiting for your wife’s delivery,” the woman declared turning on her stubby legs and hobbling back to her little cottage. I stuck my tongue out at her back.

“Arbor” my father spoke scoldingly.

“What?!” I exclaimed “she’s a mean old woman!”

My dad let off a breath “that’s not-” he was cut off by a tearing noise and in the next moment my butt was in the snow. I looked up to see the torn collar of my coat in my father’s hand. “Let’s go home,” he declared defeatedly. “We’ll talk there”

I followed my father through our small village. Cradled in a little glen it was a peaceful, wintery world all to our own. It was mostly filled with Dryads like my family and Mrs. Greenwood but we had the occasional animal friend who came to say. The Beavers who lived in the nearby dam came over every once and awhile to buy some things and a family of deer had a hollow down the road.

It was a calm place most of the time. However there were times when we would hear the bells of the queen’s carriage or the pounding feet of the security police pack and would have to go inside. Those times me and mother would wait in the back room until father came and got us. To tell us things were safe.

When me and father got home the first thing he did was take my coat and dump the pockets into the trash bin. Which I felt was a great waste. Then we headed into the kitchen where my mother was cooking. “Darling is that you?” she called over her shoulder.

“It’s both of us” my father replied “someone got in trouble with Lavender Greenwood again”

“Hey she’s the one that hordes all those goodies she bakes” I argued “and I’m not the only one who steals them”

“Yes you’re just the one who gets caught the most” my mother chuckled turning around. She came over to the pair of us “i’ll make Lavender a new batch of cookies” she looked down at me squinting her eyes “oh look you’ve got dirt on your face” she murmured raising her apron to wipe my cheeks.

“Mom” I whined. “It’s just a little dirt from Mrs. Greenwood’s garden.” she continued to scrub at my face “why are you making her cookies anyway? She’s the mean one who’s always glaring”

My mother sighed, apparently giving up on getting my face clean. “How about I double the recipe then and we can keep the extra batch?”

“I quite like that plan” I smiled as she stood.

“Oh so you’re rewarding our little thief here now are you?” my father inquired of my mother with a smirk.

“Well Mrs. Greenwood is quite the grouchy old woman” mother pointed out. I gave my father a proud smirk having said something very similar earlier.

“What am I to do with you two?” the man of the house sighed.

“Love us” I cheered.

“I quite like that answer” mother laughed lightly. Then she noticed my father holding my coat. “Oh what happened to your coat?” she inquired coming over.

“Dad ripped it” I pointed up at the man quickly.

“Nice” he grumbled down at me.

I shrugged “it’s the truth”

“Alright well we’ll get this fixed up then” the woman declared taking up the torn fabric. She sat it off to the side and returned to making dinner.

“Come here kid” my father picked me up and sat me on the table. “We have to talk about all this stealing you’ve been doing. Mrs. Greenwood’s cookies, yarn from Mr. Orchard.”

“It’s not stealing” I objected “it’s borrowing”

“Do you return it?” my father inquired. I didn’t answer because I knew he was right “exactly now you can’t do that alright. Your five years old Arbor you have to understand. People work hard to make or earn the things you just take.”

“But I work hard to take them,” I explained. “I had to wait for an hour outside Mrs. Greenwood’s window for her to place the cookies out and then even longer for them to cool off.”

I heard my mother chuckle and my father sighed “listen Arbor things have value beyond just the work you put into them. Things like the value of promises and hope and love” my father sighed and sat down. “Here I’ll tell you a story. There once was a great king of Narnia. A king by the name of Aslan back in a time when our people would dance and bloom. Green grassy hills and fields filled with colorful flowers, petals drifting on the wind. Great celebrations with singing and dancing with the fauns and centaurs and all the other creatures of the wood.”

“That sounds incredible,” I explained. “You would dance outside in the snow?”

“There was no snow then” the man objected “Before this eternal winter there was once the four seasons. There was spring where things would grow and bloom and we’d have rainy days to splash in puddles. Summer where it would get so hot in the day we would all relax in the shade and play music, we’d have bonfires and tell stories. Autumn when all the trees would turn beautiful colors and we would harvest the fields preparing great feasts and parties. Then when winter would come it would be a short time where we’d go sledding, build snowmen, snuggle inside with warm drinks, and give gifts to one another”

“Wow” I exclaimed in awe imagining such a world “what happened?”

My father’s joyous smile faltered “it was stolen away from us by the White Witch.” my father explained he glanced over at my mother who had been watching us as she cooked. Her face heavy, and rigid in concern and sadness. “She came and she stole and she destroyed, Arbor. She took our joy and our happiness she took all the magic from our beautiful world and filled it with winter and sadness and fear”

“That’s awful” I murmured looking out the window at the white snow falling outside.

“She stole Arbor and she destroyed this entire land do you understand now why you must never steal what belongs to another?” he asked.

I nodded quickly “but there has to be some way to end this winter? I want to see spring, summer, autumn”

My father smiled warmly. Then looked around as if he expected us to be overheard before scooting closer. “There is a prophecy left to us by Aslan.” he cleared his throat dramatically before continuing “it goes: When Adam’s flesh and Adam’s bone sits in Car Paraval in throne the evil time will be over and done.”

“Wow” I breathed, keeping my voice low in a mirror of his “what does it mean?”

“It means that one day two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve. In other words two human boys and two human girls will come into this land and vanquish the White Witch restoring all we once had to Narnia”

I let off an excited giggle “they’ll bring spring back?” I questioned loudly.

“Shh shh” my father hushed lightly “yes they will.” he sighed and reached a hand out to touch my cheek “oh and my dear Arbor I hope you get to see it”

There was a moment of silence in the house before mother sighed “alright you two enough story time” she decreed. “Burian I need you to go pick me some more apples for the crumble”

“I can do it mom” I exclaimed jumping from the table. “I want to go see Malic”

“Oh alright but your coat is torn” my mother observed.

“Here she can borrow mine, it's not that far to Malic’s orchard,” my father offered. He picked his jacket from the back of his chair and wrapped it around me. It smelled like him, warm and comforting. Like pine needles and old wood. The jacket was far too large for me made of brown leather, however it didn’t drag on the ground and I could move in it. “There that should suffice for your small journey”

“Here” Mother handed me a basket. “Alright now it’s getting late so off to Malic’s and then straight back here for dinner”

“Yes ma’am” I nodded in agreement as I shuffled to the door. “I love you!”

“Love you too darling” father replied.

“Love you” my mother also voiced kissing my forehead and then ushering me out the door.

I ran down the snowy lane. Weaving past ice patches and giving an extra big smile to the glowering Mrs. Greenwood as I passed by her Cottage. Entering the woods I navigated among the trees with practiced ease. I reached my destination with a happy squeal.

“Malic!” I greeted the aged apple tree. He rustled his branches in greeting. I reached up and placed a hand to his trunk leaning in. I felt the life rushing below and within his bark. I felt a weight hit my arm and looked to see an apple had fallen into my basket. “Oh thank you mother sent me to collect some for a crumble she’s making.” I explained.

Malic reached down with his branched and I climbed up among them. I loved going high up into the air and looking out at the woods. Sitting in his branches I began to pick offered apples and tell him the grand story my father had told to me. Malic allowed me to jabber at him for a long time before I finally realized the sun was setting behind me and it was getting dark.

“Oh I have to go, my mother said to be back quickly” I told the tree. “I’ll be back tomorrow though” I promised. Malic let me down from his branches and I began to run back toward the village waving goodbye to my friend.

I weaved among the growing shadows of the trees, my feet crunching in the snow. I was nearly out of the woods when I was brought to a stop as a scream split the air. Fear suddenly shot through my veins as my breathing picked up. I started forward again slowly as firelight came into view. I entered the glen and dropped my basket with a gasp at the sight. People were running around madly two of the houses of the village burned and another began to catch.

Statues that looked a lot like people I knew stood along the street in frozen images of terror. Shielding themselves from whatever was about to attack them. Standing there in the middle of it, just as frozen as the statues around her, crystal white with a gleaming scepter in her hand admiring the chaos with a look that could only be described as a chilling evil. The White Witch.

I stood there staring as screaming was all around me just looking at her. Then someone grabbed my arm. I turned to see the panicked eyes of Mrs. Greenwood. “Arbor, come this way quickly!” she whispered urgently and dragged me off toward her house. We came inside and she pulled me over to a place on the floor. Lifting a hatch she rushed me down into the little crawl space below. “Stay here” she whispered hurriedly looking over her shoulder.

“Where’s my mom and dad?” I asked desperately.

“Shhh” she hushed me quickly. “Just stay quiet and stay hidden. Arbor please stay here until everything is quiet please promise me”

“I promise” I agreed, too terrified to do much else. She closed the hatch and I heard what sounded like her slapping the carpet back over it. The small space suddenly became very dark. I curled up into myself and listened.

There were screams and crashing and yelling and the roar of fire and things falling more screaming. I covered my ears and rolled on my side burying my head into my father’s jacket. Praying for peace.

It was a long time before there was finally peace. I remained hidden in the darkness long after there was silence listening in fear. However, eventually I rose from my place on the floor and pushed on the hatch with my shaking hands. Slowly it creaked open. Climbing out I looked around. The house above was trashed, the table overturned and the door crashed in. Gentle morning light was pouring in from every crack in the walls and through the shattered glass in the window.

Slowly I walked forward. Every step sounded far too loud in the chilling quiet. I exited the house and looked around in despair. Half the village was burned to the ground. The street was empty. I walked on down the road heading for home. Praying that it was safe hoping my parents were there waiting for me. Hoping they would be there to tell me everything was alright. The more I thought of them the faster I went until I was running around the corner to my house.

I stopped dead in my tracks. It was gone. The entire home was ruble. Burnt to a chard crisp. I felt tears threatening my eyes as I looked around and didn’t see anyone. “Mom? Dad?” I called into the silence. There was no response “Mom?! Dad?!” I called louder. Still nothing I called again and my voice broke as my knees buckled. They were gone.

#chronicles of narnia #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the life series #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #aslan #the beavers #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #fanfiction #narnia fanfiction #also on ao3

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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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