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aithorin · 3 years

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You’re Mine - All Smite x Reader (18+)

Summary: After trying to leave town, Smite shows you exactly who you belong to

Warnings: Villain AU, Villain!All Might, Possessive Behavior, Dominance, Mildly dubious consent (i.e. you don’t explicitly say yes), Vaginal fingering, Unhealthy relationships, Unplanned pregnancy

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469632

Very much NSFW!

Stepping through your front door, All Might expected to hear the usual snide remark about how rude it was to barge into someone’s house unannounced float down the hall, but all that greeted him was silence. Closing the door behind him, he walked further inside and called out your name, but got no reply. The apartment was well and truly empty. Arriving in the living room, All Might let himself sink onto your couch, a creak emitting from it at his weight, and soon let himself become preoccupied with his thoughts.

Something didn’t feel right. You should have been home right now. After all, he knew what your schedule was like. Not because he cared about you or anything though. He just kept himself up to date on your life, so that he wouldn’t waste his time coming over here if you were busy. He usually only came over to blow off some steam, so coming at a bad time would only make things worse. Frustrated and horny were two emotions that did not mix well with All Might. As such, he kept himself in the loop on your daily life. It was a purely selfish motivation. Except, it had apparently backfired since you weren’t here. He could feel the beginnings of frustration crawl up his spine at your absence mixing with something he refused to name (though if he really examined it, the feeling would probably be identified as worry), and with a growl escaping from his lips, he jumped up off the couch to see if he could find out where you had gone.

Beginning in your bedroom, the first thing he noticed was that the place seemed emptier. To the left, the closet doors stood wide open with a few clothes barely holding onto their hangers while the majority of them held nothing. The knick knacks and stationary that dotted your desk were nowhere to be seen. Looking toward the back, he saw that your nightstand had been completely cleared as well. Your room looked like something out of a hotel rather than a space you lived in. Observing your bedroom, All Might knew you had haphazardly packed and left to go somewhere in a hurry, but looking even closer, he realized that it looked like you had no intention of coming back. Nostrils flaring in anger, he stewed about what could have possibly made you leave so quickly, leave him so quickly. Didn’t you know that you belonged to him? It was almost laughable that you thought you could leave. You were his. His toy to do with as he pleased, and you should have known better than anyone that he was very possessive of his toys.

Turning around, he stomped in the direction of the bathroom to continue his search. First, he was going to figure out why you had left. Then, he was going to find you and drag you back if he had to. And finally, he was going to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t ever think of leaving again.

Walking into the bathroom only confirmed what he already knew: you had fled, but from what he still had no fucking clue. The space was completely bare, all of your toiletries gone. He was about to leave when he caught sight of a little trash can placed next to the toilet. Taking his time to examine it, the pieces of the puzzle behind your disappearance began to click in his head, and the second it did, annoyed anger turned into full-blown rage. For there, nestled right at the top, was a plastic stick with a plus sign on it. He vowed right then and there that he was going to make you pay, and without another glance, stormed out of the apartment, intent on finding you immediately.

_________________________

Nervously glancing down at your watch, you ducked into a nearby alley, using it as a shortcut to get to the train station. With your suitcase bouncing on the gravel behind you, you chanted in your head, “5 more minutes. 5 more minutes, and I’ll be at the train station. 5 more minutes, and I’ll be on the train, heading away from him. 5 more minutes until I start my new life. 5 more minutes until I’m-we’re safe.”

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you spotted the other end of the alleyway. Right around the corner was the entrance to the train station. With each step, your surroundings grew brighter and a bounce in your walk seemed to grow with it. You could almost taste the freedom. One more step and you’d be out-

“And where do you think you’re going?” a familiar voice growled, yanking on your arm to tug you back into the shadows of the alley.

“Damn, so close. I really hope he doesn’t kill me.” you thought.

Turning around, you craned your neck up to meet All Might’s infamous blue eyes. Fuck, he looked really angry. It’s ok, you could talk yourself out of this.

Putting on a brave face, you steeled yourself to lie your way through this encounter. It didn’t matter how you felt about him. You had to get him to let you leave after this-and in one piece. “Hey All Might! Didn’t I tell you? I have an out of town business meeting this week and-”

Cutting you off, he leaned down to get eye level with you. “DON’T lie to me girl. I saw your apartment. You have enough shit in that suitcase to last you for a lifetime. Now I’ll only ask once, What. Are. You. Doing.” he spit out.

Taking a moment to study him, you tried to gauge his behavior. He was angry angry-like angrier than you had ever seen him before. Did-did he know? You thought to yourself momentarily before mentally shaking your head. No, there’s no way he could know. I’ll just play it off. Tell him a half-truth and push him away to distance him from me. Let’s hope he doesn’t snap my neck over it.

Raising your half-lidded eyes to meet his, you shrugged simply replying, “I’m leaving.”

“Why?” he bit out.

Stepping back to place some distance between you two, you crossed your arms as you began to get irritated with him. “Does there have to be a reason? Maybe I just got tired of your annoying ass and decided to leave town since I’ll have to go god knows how far to get you to leave me alone.” you scoffed.

Taking a step towards you to close the distance you had tried to create, he snarled “Watch your tone girl. I’m already upset with you. You do not want to make me angrier. Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Beginning to circle around you, like a bird eyeing its prey, he let out a tut. “But back to the matter at hand...we both know that bullshit excuse of yours isn’t true, so why don’t you be a good little girl and tell me the real reason.”

Stiffening at his words, you tried to deflect. Still feigning nonchalance, you rolled your eyes, letting out a sigh, “Why does it even matter to you? I’m just your fuck buddy, sometimes an occasional person to talk to. So why the fuck do you even care what I do? Either way, I’m replaceable. Just go find another hole to stick it in, and I’m sure you’ll be juuusssst fine.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, All Might whipped his head around to stare at you, giving you the most scathing look you had ever seen. Harshly grabbing a hold of your arms he brought you close in a grueling grip before hoisting you up. Before you could even think, he jumped into the air, the force behind it rattling the buildings in the alleyway. Moments later, you found yourself on the balcony of your apartment, still held tightly in his arms. Dropping you down, he nodded towards the back door.

“Open it.” He stated in a tone that left no room for argument.

Digging out your keys, you silently followed his commands. As soon as you slid the door open, he bent down to go inside. “Follow me. NOW.” He demanded.

Filled with anticipation, you trailed along behind him until he came to a stop at your kitchen table. Seeing what was on the table, your mouth immediately went dry. At your reaction, a sneer started to make its way across All Might’s face.

“It matters to me because of that,” he stated, nodding his head towards the test on the table, “Mind explaining what it is?”

You could still fix this. So he knew you were pregnant, big deal. You just had to convince him that it wasn’t his. Swallowing nervously, you let out a shaky laugh. “That’s what’s got you so worked up? That has nothing to do with this. It’s not even yours. I told you, I just didn’t want to see you anymore, so I left.”

Advancing towards you, he backed you up against a wall before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “Do you take me for a fool girl? I’m the most powerful man in all of Japan. Are you really so naive to think I don’t keep tabs on you? You should know by now that I don’t share, so I know for a fact that my dick’s the only one that’s been in your dirty little cunt since we met. I warned you not to lie to me before, so if you know what’s good for you, I’d suggest you drop this little act and tell me the truth.”

Now you knew it was too late. He definitely knew it was his and he was angry. At the fact that it was his baby or that you had lied you didn’t know which. Either way though, your charade was over. You had no idea what was going to happen now. With tears shining in your eyes, you defiantly lifted your chin up to glare at him. “Fine, I’m pregnant and it’s yours, is that what you wanted to hear Toshinori?” Softening your voice to a whisper you repeated, “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Letting out a watery laugh, you shook your head muttering, “I don’t even know why it matters. We both know that you have absolutely no desire to be a father. You’re a villain for god's sake! A child won’t fit neatly into your lifestyle. Hell, I don't even fit neatly into your lifestyle now. We barely know each other. I’m just a quick fuck to you. That’s all this has ever been and it’s all that it needs to be.”

Looking at him directly in the eye, you pleaded, “Just let me go, and you’ll never see either one of us ever again. If you let me leave here safely, I promise that you won’t ever hear from me. It’ll be like we never even existed to you.”

Letting out a laugh, All Might looked down at you with a smirk, “Let you go? There’s no way in hell I’m ever letting you go, especially now. Not that I was ever planning on it, but this little development,” he took a moment to lower his eyes to your stomach, “just became my insurance. You’re mine… forever now.”

He could see it now. Coming home to you every night. You, greeting him at the door with a child on your hip. Thinking about it caused something to twinge in his chest. Normally the thought of a family and children brought an overwhelming disgust to the forefront of his mind, but the thought of a family with you brought forth a wave of completely opposite emotions. He told himself that it was only pride at the thought of you fat with his kid, yet there was an underlying emotion of happiness as well.

Meanwhile, you were going through a series of emotions trying to decipher what he meant exactly with his words. It was always so hard to tell what All Might was thinking. Most of the time he was very flippant during your interactions, choosing to tease or flirt with you during your time together. He could never be serious with you about anything (unless it was about sex), so you had always assumed you were some sort of fling since he never bothered to get to know you. So what exactly did he mean by “forever?” Did he mean it, or was it just some sort of way of feeding into his ego? You could admit that you did have fun together. He loved to tease you, (he considered finding new ways to push your buttons a sport) and he did come see you at least once a week, often choosing to stay at your place for the night rather than leave. But you never thought he meant anything by it. His mood could switch so easily that you had learned to never read too much into his actions.

Despite his somewhat dismissive attitude towards you though, some part of you had fallen in love with him during the course of your relationship (against your better judgement) and you treasured every moment you spent with him. God knows you should’ve never gotten involved with him, but being with him just felt right. From the moment you met him, you knew that nobody else would ever make you feel the way he did. Although you had feigned indifference, claiming you were nothing more than fuck buddies, your relationship with the infamous villain had moved past that some time ago. You had just never known what it had moved into until now. His declaration seemed to indicate that he did care about you in a way that extended past a fuck but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that he cared about anything other than himself. Almost certain you were dreaming, you voiced your thoughts aloud.

“Care about you? Of course I care about you, why else would I have wasted so much time on you. I swear you ask the stupidest questions.” He scoffed, “How many times do I have to tell you that you belong to me and only me? Maybe it’s about time I just showed you instead.”

Somehow he stepped impossibly closer to you, placing one arm above your head to keep you thoroughly trapped in place. Standing so close, you could feel the hardness of his dick pressing into your thigh. Breath held in anticipation, you silently watched as he traced the pad of his thumb across your lips with his free hand. Shoving the top of his finger into your mouth, he looked down at you commanding you to suck on it and you instinctively started to swirl your tongue around it. Watching you appreciatively, he let out a hum as he declared, “This filthy mouth of yours is mine.”

Pulling his finger out of your mouth, a string of saliva followed after it. Eyes glued to him, you watched closely to see what he would do next. Your deep breaths echoed throughout the room, but it was blocked by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You could feel your pulse beginning to pick up as tingles of desire started to dance across your flushed skin. Body tense with excitement, a heat started to spread throughout your body heading straight for your core at his touch.

All Might continued carving a path down your body, ghosting a hand over the length of your neck and coming to a stop at your breasts. “These are also mine.” he growled out, giving them a squeeze as he gave a light tug on one of your nipples. At his touch, a breathy groan escaped your lips as a wave of desire caused a fresh layer of wetness to coat your pussy. Your hardened nipples ached for more attention, but before you could even blink, his touch was gone, causing you to whine in protest. All Might paid you no heed though, much more interested in making his toward the final stop in his exploration of your body.

Skimming over the flesh of your thigh, his hand slowly started to climb their way up your skirt. Unconsciously, you spread your legs to allow him better access, causing a smirk to make its way upon his face at your display of eagerness. Finding the outline of your panties, he trailed a lone finger up your slick before gently flicking at your nub. Withdrawing his hand, he took a long inhale of your scent before raising the digit up to his mouth to lick it clean. Smacking his lips, All Might fixed a roguish grin upon you before leaning down to lay his palm flat over your pussy, his thumb beginning to rub slow circles around your clit. “And this ….this tight little cunt of yours belongs solely to me. You belong to me”

With that, he leaned over to capture your lips in a kiss, forcefully pushing his way in to deepen it as much as he could. His tongue smothered yours in a play of dominance, but you met him head on, arching your back into his chest in an effort to raise your head for a better angle. Seconds later, All Might abandoned his task of keeping your arms trapped in favor of using his hands to rip your shirt off. Never once letting go of his lips, you shrugged out of the remains of your shirt as well as your bra. Chest now bare, All Might seized the chance to lavish attention upon your breasts. Lifting you into his arms, his lips began to move away from yours, causing you to whine in disapproval. The whine soon transformed into a gasp as he kissed his way down to your breasts before taking one in his mouth and cupping the other in his hand. Swirling his tongue around the tip, he began to gently nip and tug at your bud all while fondling the other held in his hand. Every movement elicited a moan from you, and you took the opportunity to thread your fingers through his blond locks, tugging on them to bring him closer.

Soon though, it wasn’t enough. Your core felt hot as your body began to hunger for him. The beginnings of a fire had been stoked and soon you were consumed by it. All you could sense was him. The sensation of his lips upon yours. The feel of his hands on your skin. But it wasn’t enough. There was a want, no-a need, for All Might to touch you more. To touch you there. Only he could satiate this impossible, overwhelming craving. Your fingers clenched around his hair as your pussy throbbed from desire.

”Ple-please I-I need more,” you breathed.

Lifting his head to meet your eyes, All Might asked, “Mhm what was that princess? You want me to touch you?”

Diverting his attention from your chest, his fingers once again made their way under your skirt, teasing the edge of your pussy in long, languid strokes.

“Look at that, so wet, and it’s all for me. Are you really that desperate?” He taunted.

Pushing your panties aside, All Might slipped a finger inside of your cunt eliciting a gasp from you at the sudden stretch. Teasing your clit in small circles with his thumb, he slowly began to thrust his index finger in your pussy, twirling his finger around inside of you to toy with you even more. Every movement drew out a moan from you as he worked you open with expert ease, knowing exactly what to do to make you crumble into the palm of his hand. Not long after, he added a second digit and increased the pace, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel yourself on the precipice of release when suddenly All Might’s fingers abruptly slowed down, reeling you back and refusing to let you fall. Tears of frustration sprung to your eyes as the coil within you ached for release. All Might continued to torment you, building up the speed of his thrusts, bringing you to the brink of an orgasm, like a wave crashing onto the shore, but every time he sensed you were about to come, his touch would disappear without ever allowing release. Every time he denied you, the coil inside you wrung impossibly tighter, so tight that it felt like it was burning you from the inside. Your head spun from the need for release as tears leaked from your eyes. Beads of sweat decorated your brow as your breathing morphed into a heavy pant from the physical exertion All Might was putting your body through. Letting out a cry of frustration, your body bucked against him, looking for some much needed friction, but All Might only let out a tut at your miserable state.

“What do you want, girl? I want to hear you beg.” He sneered at you, flicking at your clit.

“Please-please let me come A-All Might.” You pleaded, letting out a moan as his fingers sunk inside your pussy.

“You know that only good girls get to come. Good girls who know who they belong to. Now tell me (y/n), have you been a good girl?”

“Y-yes, I’ve been a good girl. I promise to always be a good girl. Just please let me come.” you begged, mind hazy from his ministrations. At this point, you would say just about anything to please him if it meant that you would get to come.

“Really?” he says, sounding surprised, “Because good girls know who they belong to, and it seems like you forgot that today. I will only ask once, who do you belong to y/n?”

His tone turned impossibly dark, and with it his fingers plunged even deeper into you, giving you hard thrusts in time to his words.

“Y-you. Only you,” You groaned out.

“I want to hear you say it.” Pressing his face against your ear, All Might’s warm breath hit your face as he harshly whispered, “Who do you belong to?”

“I belong to you All Might!” you cried out as he scissored his fingers inside you at the exact same time.

At your reply, a pleased smile spread across his face as he purred out, “Good.”

With that, his fingers gave a brutal thrust, sinking into your cunt so deep they seemed to physically push you over the edge, the coil inside of you finally springing free. At having been denied so many times, your orgasm flooded over you, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as your cunt clamped hard around his fingers, your orgasm so violent that you started to see stars. White hot waves of pleasure crashed over you, wracking their way up your spine, clouding your vision as your body trembled from trying to keep up. Your senses became numb as a sea of ecstasy engulfed your body. The only thing you were aware of was the pleasure coursing its way through your body, and you voluntarily let yourself get lost in the sensations, letting it completely consume you. You barely even noticed your body crumpling against the wall, completely giving out. Strong arms caught you as large hands wrapped around your back to brace you.

After what felt like hours, you finally began to descend from the high of your orgasm. Slowly recovering, your limbs shook as your senses came back to you. When you regained your vision, you raised your head to meet All Might’s eyes, your breathless, panting gasps being the only sound to fill the air. With his anger finally abated, a gentle, calming peacefulness filled the room, the likes of which you had never experienced with All Might. He kept his eyes trained on you, studying you in a way that you had never seen. It looked like he was looking at you for the first time, seeing you in a new light. Without even seeming to realize it, he raised his hand to rest his palm against your stomach in an almost (dare you even say it) tender way. Having never seen him behave in such a way (and doubting you would ever see it again), you held your breath, savoring the moment.

All too soon though, the moment broke. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, All Might’s face regained his usual wicked smile as he stood up.

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, princess.” He stated, beginning to make his way toward the door. “Try anything like that again, and I won’t be so nice.”

Opening your front door, he turned back once more, pinning you down with his blazing blue eyes. “I have some business to attend to now, but I’ll be back in awhile. I’ll be visiting more often to check up on our little development. Expect me soon.”

Then, without another word, he was gone.

Staring at the place he had stood moments ago, your head spun as you tried to make sense of everything you had learned about the man from this encounter. You knew that you would never be a normal family (you were having a baby with the number one villain after all), but in his own sadistic, overly possessive way it seemed that he cared.

If you were smart, you would’ve left him a long time ago. But in reality, that option ceased to exist the moment you met him. There was no going back after meeting a man like All Might. Really though, you found that you had no desire to go back to your life before him. Something about him drew you in and refused to let go. You knew that what you felt for him was love, but you were much too scared to ever admit it outloud. Strangely though, you found comfort in the fact that something about you seemed to attract him towards you in much the same way, as he always came back. And if tonight was any indication, it seemed that he had no intention of letting go. You weren’t so naive to assume he loved you in the traditional way, but deep down, so deep he would never fully understand it himself, there had to be a small fraction of him that loved you as you loved him. You knew you would never have a perfect relationship with him, hell you doubted that you would even have a healthy one, but maybe, just maybe things would be alright in the end.

#all might x reader #villain all might x reader #all smite x reader #all smite #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #mha #my hero fanfic #my hero x reader #villain au #all might imagine #villain!all might #smut #all might smut #all might x you

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

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Stopping You [Part 10] - Michael Gray

Words: 8.9k+

Summary: Y/N’s recovery from both her feelings and her wound takes a step back after a specific night.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of wounds, a lot of blood, death and night terrors. Emotional cheating. Self-hate (discrediting their own sadness and feelings; hateful inner voice).

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

It has been a total of 24 hours.

Yesterday was a bad day. Both mentally and physically.

Polly tried her best into bringing your mood up, which worked in some way. She eased your mind by telling you that what you were feeling is completely normal, but as soon as you were alone, it was like the whole world was crashing on you.

Over crying so much as hateful questions filled your mind, you were sore at the end of the night. You contracted your muscles so much while sobbing that you could feel your wound pulsate against your skin in pain.

You questioned almost everything about your life before and after Michael left and when he reappeared. Things have changed, not just around his family, but also around you. And that seems to be one of the most confusing matters.

You never cared too much about this, but you can’t help but think about how so many things have changed since Michael came back. From your behaviors to how you function. Everything has changed in some way.

You’ve always suffered with night terrors in your life, ever since your parents left, but they were almost never about Michael. The exception being when the whole Italian/New York mafia situation went down, and Michael got injured. But other than that, it was always you, or anybody else close, that would die.

Never Michael.

You want to know what could’ve possibly awaken those thoughts and that part of your brain that makes you think like that. Could it be because you now connect him to something bad in your life? Or that when he came back, he had-

No, you’re not going there. It’s useless. It will cost you nothing pain, and it won’t grant you any answers. Might as well push that away and live your life.

Or at least try.

You bring your hot mug back to your lips and take another sip of your tea, letting your eyes fall to the ground.

Polly believes you could talk to him. Tell him about how you’ve been feeling lately. But, honestly, for what? To say that you’re falling right back in love with him just to later be thrown in the face that he does not love or feel anything for you anymore.

He. Is. Getting. Married.

It would just be simply ridiculous to do such a thing.

He doesn’t feel anything for you and that’s okay. All he feels is pity and maybe he got a little scared over you being shot, but that’s it. There are no feelings attached, no romance. No nothing. Just simply… a connection through pain, which awoke lost and forbidden memories.

Maybe this could just be your pride talking over your heart but, you just can’t believe that you’re letting yourself fall so easily. After so long of crying over him and overworking yourself to become a Peaky Blinder and just- not worry about anything in your demolished love life. All of it going to the trash because… You caught feelings for him again?

It’s disappointing to say the least.

Today, you awoke as soon as the sun made its way into the living room and since then, you haven’t done much. You walked back to your room after getting yourself a warm drink and sat by the window staring at the green grass of the neighbors’ house like it’s the most entertaining thing in the world.

A book is resting beside you. You have read a few good pages, but you can’t bring yourself to read more than 20 at a time.

Your mind is too heavy.

Voices coming from downstairs make you look away from the window and up to your door. You try your best to identify them as soon as you find them familiar.

You can hear voices and the laugher of Lizzie and Arthur. Which is awfully strange.

You scowl at the sound, and the soft patter of quick feet running around the house squeezes your heart. The kids are here too.

You rise from your seat and walk across your bedroom to the door. You open it softly and the sound of everyone’s voices is now louder. Confusion is the most prominent emotion you can feel right now, but you can’t help but welcome it better than any other one you’ve been feeling lately.

While walking down the main stairs silently, a soft gasp is heard over the loud voices. Ruby’s.

You smile at her as she spots you walking down the stairs and she quickly let’s go of her mother’s hand to run towards you.

As you’re distracted swallowing down the jab of pain at your middle while leaning down to grab her, Polly’s eyes meet you. The smile in your face is almost like a warm hug in the winter. She could get used to this sight forever.

“Look who came back from war,” Ada jokes as she spots you.

She walks towards you and her arms wrap around you as soon as you’re close enough. You lean towards her, even with Ruby on your hip, and she squeezes you in closer.

“I was so worried,” She tells you, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You pull away from the hug with a small smile and she gives you a wide one in return. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her. She had left back for London not long before the whole event happened. You honestly didn’t expect to see her this soon.

As Ada moves back, everyone’s attention goes over to you. Everyone, or at least, almost everyone pulls you into a hug, sharing their words of how grateful they are from knowing that you’re still breathing.

You know they had visited you back at the hospital when you were still asleep, but nothing compares to actually seeing you move like nothing had happened. Arthur’s words, not yours.

Talking about Arthur. He was awfully apologetic while you two hugged it out. You believe he must have blamed himself for what happened, but you were quick to take that idea off his head.

You’re not about to see anybody else beating themselves for something out of their reach. Unless that’s you, of course.

Tommy and Arthur, not even 20 minutes into stepping in Polly’s home, excuse themselves and leave off to work.

The crowd in the living room doesn’t consist in much more people. Both Ada and Lizzie, and of course the kids, stayed behind and took a seat on the couch. The kids surrounded you as soon as you all sat down, while the women in front of you were distracted on talking about whatever, or rather, whoever worth of gossiping.

You listen to some of their words while being continuously pulled into conversation by Charlie as you let Ruby sit next to you, leaning to your side.

Karl is sitting closer to his mother, but looking at you and joining the conversations, nonetheless.

“What about you, Y/N?” Ada asks as she sips her tea.

“What about me?” You ask confused, obviously having no clue on what she’s on about.

“We were talking about weddings,” Lizzie explains, “Sharing our opinions on what is the best wedding. And Ada asked if you have anyone in your mind as your future husband?”

Her tone is playful more than anything. Both Lizzie and Ada expect a disgusted scowl or a roll of your eyes as an answer, but Polly can’t help but tense up against her seat at the question.

As innocent as this conversation was, it was more than powerful to push you back into your inner darkness.

“Not that I know of.” You answer, trying to mimic Lizzie’s tone.

“Oh, come on. You don’t find any man attractive?” Ada asks, putting her cup down beside her, “Not even one?”

You shake your head slowly and she stares at you with half closed eyes, almost as if she has a suspicion of some sort about your feelings towards any male presences.

“There has to be someone,” Lizzie agrees with Ada, “It’s been… what? 3 years?”

You shrug, fighting your urge to correct her since it won’t do you any justice, and the two women share a look as Polly watches all the action unfold.

“What about Finn?”

Oh god, you almost gagged right here.

Ada laughs under her breath at your disgusted yet shocked look and shakes her thoughts of that couple even be slightly real, away.

“God.” Polly scoffs out loud, making every woman rip a slight smile.

“What’s so wrong about my baby brother?” Polly asks, hands over her hips, playful grin on her face.

“Nothing is wrong,” Polly explains, “They would just be the most chaotic couple to existence. Can you imagine?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“They would burn down the church right at their wedding,” Polly jokes making both Lizzie and Ada laugh, “Probably even when saying their vows.”

There’re a few seconds of silence as the women let their giggles die down.

“Where is Finn?” Lizzie asks curious.

“Oh, Tommy has been making the boy work double the shifts now, for some reason.” Polly answers, “I don’t understand why, but they changed a lot of his shifts since their last meeting.”

“There was a meeting?” You ask confused.

Polly looks over at you.

“Yes, there was. It was only between Tommy and some of the men.” She answers with a short nod, “Nothing too important was talked about, I’m sure.”

You nod at her a little bit unsure and Charlie is quick to grab your attention back to him. He pulls you by your sleeve to look at him and he starts showing you his new toy horse, again.

You feel like you’ve seen that horse a thousand times, now.

Another conversation restarts between the women and you lean back on the couch, letting Ruby continue to play with your gold necklaces as Charlie talks his heart out about the horse that his dad gave him.

Your mind is constantly somewhere else. But this time, it focused on work. Mainly, on what the meeting could’ve possibly been about. As if any meeting with just the men was ‘not important’. They always have the most interesting meetings.

And with that train of thought, hours go by.

You were so distracted by listening to the women beside you laugh and talk, or just with looking down at the kids, that you didn’t even notice the time pass.

Your mind is still on that damned meeting, but you don’t let it get the best of you. You’re sure that the information will eventually reach you. In one way or another.

Three knocks are heard from the front door, and only Polly stands to open it. Nobody thinks too much of it. Everyone knew that eventually someone would come and pick up Ada, Lizzie and the kids.

It’s soon to be dark out, they must be almost leaving now.

“I’m sorry that we’re late.” A familiar voice sounds from the door.

Ada freezes and at the same time she looks up at you, you look up at the door. Not even 5 seconds later, Michael enters the house, followed by, of course, Gina. His blue eyes travel to the couch in the living room, and as he finds you, you’re already looking down at Charlie.

Your hand rests against Charlies’ head, smoothing his soft hair between your fingers, detangling it softly.

He forces his gaze to go back to the blonde behind him and his mother closes the front door behind them.

“Go sit. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go make more tea.” Polly says, voice strong, not as soft as it was previously.

Ada’s and Lizzie’s eyes stay on both Michael and Gina as the couple stands in silence. They don’t find the women’s gaze as nothing more than their way to look at guests before exchanging some welcoming words, so, the tense air and shock just came unnoticed.

“Oh, hi Michael” Ada says, standing on her feet. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

She gives her cousin a quick hug, in which he hugs back, but her eyes quickly fall on the blonde.

“And who are you?” Ada asks softly.

“Michael’s fiancée, Gina” She says with her American accent, extending her hand towards the other family member she hasn’t heard of before.

Ada shakes her hand, feeling slightly confused and shocked with her words, but, just like anyone else in this room, she’s quick to hide her emotions.

“Please, sit. I don’t want you standing all night.” Polly says to the new guests, from the kitchen door.

Michael is the first one to move towards the couches. You don’t dare to look up at him and he notices, fighting his own urge to start a conversation.

Your heart quickens the closer he gets to you and Charlie looks up at him, probably recognizing his face somewhere.

“Charlie, honey, scoot over a little.” Lizzie tells the boy.

The boy in front of you nods in response and takes his eyes off Michael. He stands on the couch and carefully steps over your lap and sits on your other side, by the arm of the couch.

Michael takes his seat next to you and you hold in your breath as your arms rest completely against one another. Lizzie moves a bit to the side and Gina sits beside her fiancée, who has his attention somewhere else.

“How are you?” Michael whispers down at you and you still don’t look up.

“Good.”

Your tone is cold and distant, which he finds extremely strange and awfully uncomfortable.

The couch is surely not large enough for 4 people, but you and Michael are having it worse than anyone else seated down on it. Lizzie and Gina have at least a few inches between themselves, while you and Michael are almost completely leaning against one another, trapped between Gina and Charlie.

Michael’s hands rest over his lap as he hears the awfully awkward conversation between the women start, not finding it at all surprising that you are paying them no absolute attention.

Ruby lets go of your necklaces for the first time and looks down at your hands.

They’re slightly sweaty over the presence of the man beside you but she pays them no mind, grabbing onto them as she eyes the expensive jewelry, surely something she loves a lot about you.

Polly comes back not too long after, and she’s quick to serve everyone another cup of tea.

You refuse any more, since you feel like you’ve already drank too much and explode your own bladder if you keep on going. And as your hand lifts to dismiss the tea from Polly, Ruby catches it.

You smile a bit at her and Michael grins slightly at the sight of the small girl being so interested in your hand. You let her twist the rings on your fingers and her gaze moves up at Michael.

His grin seems awfully contagious to her since she ends up smiling shyly at him as she continues to hold your hand up. As they do their staring contest, you look over at Charlie, who entertains himself and his mind with his new, and very loved, horse.

You sigh softly as your heart continues to beat quickly against your rib cage and you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re anxious about Michael or is it just his presence that is making you react like this.

“Have you taken your pain meds?” Polly asks.

You look up quickly as you notice that the question must be for you and a shiver runs past you as everyone’s eyes fall on you, even Gina’s.

“I will when I go to sleep.”

She gives you a disapproving look and you give her a grin in return.

“It helps me sleep.” You justify, and she sits back in her chair.

Michael grins at the exchange of words and your stubbornness and Ada notices it before continuing with her conversation.

Ruby rests your palm against hers and starts comparing both sizes.

You chuckle at her and as your body jumps at the laugh beside Michael, he looks down at Ruby to see what made you react. The small girl looks up when sensing his eyes on her and as Gina joins the conversation between the other women, Ruby extends her other hand at Michael, holding it upright.

He looks at her confused and you notice.

“She wants to compare your hand to hers.” You explain in a low whisper.

He takes his hand from his lap and extends it to her. His hands are surely bigger than yours, and that seemed to shock the small girl.

You smile as she lays her hand over his with widen eyes and Polly looks up from her tea at you, mind still on the conversation she started.

Her heart swells up at the sight. You and Michael smiling down at the girl sitting on your lap as she holds your hands up and compares them to hers. She can’t hear what you say over the loud voices and from being across the room, but she sees you saying something to Ruby, making her nod.

Michael’s smile widens at the small girl and you look up at him quickly, stealing a look before you get caught, which you don’t, not by him at least. Polly surely did, but she doesn’t say or do anything.

It’s so obvious that you still feel something for him, at least for her. But Michael seems to be unreadable, sometimes. It’s hard to figure anything out.

Gina stares at Polly while grinning at what Ada says and finds her staring at her son, she follows her gaze and clenches her jaw. The urge to roll her eyes feels stronger than her, but her bottled up rage triples at sight of you smiling.

Ruby takes her hands off yours quickly, shyly putting them close to her chest. You continue to smile down at her and as you and Michael try to retreat your own hands, she holds on to them.

Her actions are innocent, purely curious on the size of your hands, but she still leans both of your palms together, still holding them upright.

You and Michael don’t give that much of a reaction as Ruby tries to align them perfectly at the base of your palms and see the size difference from the top of your fingers.

An idea pops in your mind as your hand rests against Michael’s, and as Ruby pulls back to check the difference after so much adjusting, you slide your palm against Michael’s, so your fingers align right at the same height.

Michael chuckles at the confused look on Ruby’s face and she smiles at the contagious sound.

But as soon as the small girl notices what you’ve done, she sends you a glare, making the two of you laugh at her.

Your conjoined laughs catch everyone’s attention for a quick second and Gina doesn’t even care to take a second look. Ada smiles as she sees Ruby readjusting your palms, and, this time, it’s Michael who moves his hand, almost making his fingers only lay over half of your palm.

Ruby glares at him too and you two laugh, again.

“Alright, we’ll stop.” You tell her.

Ruby retries, but this time she has a tactic. As she makes sure that you are aligned perfectly, she holds both your and Michael’s thumb and force them to rest against the other’s back of the hand.

She leans back and stares at the difference between your hands, now happy with her achievement.

You two let her stare at the size difference with her big wide eyes, but something interrupts the sweet moment.

“Michael, honey.” Gina calls out as the conversation between everyone restarts, “Can you pass me that cup?”

Michael takes his hand off yours and you can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of his touch. He leans forward on the couch and grabs the cup of tea for Gina from the center table, something she could easily get it herself.

You let your hand fall back to your lap and you take a sharp deep inhale, not wanting to be sitting on this couch for any longer.

You let some minutes pass, so you don’t seem like a total bitch, and when feeling ready, you lean forward on the couch, wincing in pain as your body shows to have grown sore over the lack of painkillers and from not moving at all for the past few hours.

Polly’s eyes go over to you at the sound only her seemed to notice, and you look back at her.

“I’m going to bed, I think.” You explain, making everybody get silent and look at you, “I feel exhausted.”

“Need help to find your meds?” She asks, already starting to get up, and you shake your head.

“No, no.” You hold your hand up stopping her, “Stay here. I’ll find them.”

You make sure to sit Ruby on the couch comfortably before forcing yourself up from the low couch. You fight off any sound of pain as you stand on your feet, but your face made it quite obvious.

You really should’ve taken those meds earlier.

You walk to the kitchen, trying not to show any other expression of pain, and everyone’s eyes are on you. Gina stares as you lean against the doorframe to regain your strength, yet she doesn’t feel anything in return. Not even an ounce of pity.

You stumble into the kitchen and look at the main counter, expecting the meds to be sitting right in the middle, just like you left them. But this wouldn’t be Polly’s house if they were.

Your feet get dragged as you take your time walking around to the kitchen.

You start opening every cabinet and drawer that could possibly have your meds, but there are too many to find them right away. Maybe going to bed without your meds wouldn’t be that bad.

You just need to lay down, now.

“Need help?”

You turn on your heels to find Michael by the doorway, already in the kitchen. You look away quickly back to all the drawers and try to hide any type of emotion towards his sudden appearance.

“No, I think I got it.” You answer back.

You continue to look through the many drawers and only after 2 minutes of seeing you struggle; Michael decides to move. He walks towards you and you stand still as he does so.

As he passes between you and the counter behind you, he holds onto your shoulders to make you stand back a little and let him pass. Something that surely made your skin react, but, thankfully, it all came unnoticed to him.

He opens a drawer slightly away from you and pulls out exactly what you’re looking for.

“How did you know?” You ask, curious.

“This is where she would put my meds after I got shot. It’s her drawer from stronger meds.” He explains.

How the hell did you not know that?

You walk towards him as he opens the small paper bag, taking your medicine out and handing it over to you. You take it from his hands carefully and put it down on the counter beside you.

“Thank you” You whisper at him.

You take your medicine in silence as the conversation restarts in the living room, and you try not to cringe at anything that you’re taking. Why is everything so bitter?

Whenever you’re done with one of the meds, Michael grabs them slowly and puts them back on the bag without saying anything.

He slides the drawers closed when done and you start taking the jewelry off your hands, just to start and get your way to the bed way quicker.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and you look up at him.

“No. But I’ll be.” You say sincerely before looking away and taking a step away from him, “That’s what matters.”

Michael notices your hesitation into continuing some sort of conversation, just like your slight cold tone, but he tries his best to ignore it.

“I’m going to bed,” You announce while turning your back to him and making your way out of kitchen.

“Good night.” He says as you reach the doorway.

You send him a tight-lipped smile and walk out, back into the living room. Polly is, of course, the first one to notice you.

“Did you find it?” She asks.

“Michael did.” You answer.

You walk over to her and once close, lean over and kiss her cheek. The rest of the family distracted with something else or some other type of conversation.

Michael walks out of the kitchen and you reach the stairs, after saying a quick good night, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

You jump up the steps with your rings in your hands as you bring your cold and clammy hands to your neck to try and unclasp your necklaces. Your eyes land on Michael’s as you reach the top floor and he’s staring back.

Gina calls his name in a whisper and he looks at her, breaking your eye contact. And as soon as his eyes reach Gina’s, he doesn’t hesitate into giving her a sweet smile.

As he looks back up while walking around the couch, his eyes meet nothing but some painting on the wall.

You’re not there anymore.

(…)

The sound of birds surrounds you, their soft and energized tweeting coming from the trees far away from you and some branches above you, as the warm summer wind hits your body like a warm hug.

You shift your position on the ground, laying on your stomach and looking up at the sky between the branches high up, far, far away from you.

Solitary clouds float over the bright blue sky, almost not shielding any land from the sunlight.

Your exposed back is warm, erupting into chills whenever Michael moves his hand. You close your eyes again and let yourself relax again.

A hand touches the side of your head softly and slowly you feel its fingers start to trace your hairline. You open your eyes, blinking the sunlight away, and look up at Michael.

His hand falls to your cheek as you move and a small smile spreads over his lips.

“Let me sleep,” You whine, and he finally gives you a full smile.

“Alright,” He answers in a whisper, “Sorry.”

You sigh and hold yourself up with your hands, you push your body up on his torso and his hands go to your waist. Not caring over only wearing a dress, you lay yours legs over his hips, straddling his lap while pulling yourself up.

“I forgive you.” You whisper back playfully.

You snuggle into the crook of his neck and his smell hits you like an embrace. The small bit of communication pulled you away from your sleepy thoughts and movements, but you still felt just as clingy and slow.

As you lay back against him, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him with everything in him. You snuggle in to welcome his tight hold and one of his hands stretches over your skin of your back.

You’re wearing a simple black dress, baggy from your waist down, but completely backless.

“Can we lay here for, like…” You pause, “Forever?”

Michael chuckles from under you and leans his head to the side to rest it against yours.

“We’ll get hungry eventually.” He answers, and you smile.

“I’m sure there’s some animals around here.” You continue to play around, smile prominent in your voice.

“I hope you know how to make a fire, then.”

You giggle into Michael’s neck and pull away slightly. His hold loosens slightly so you can move a bit and you look down at him.

“Don’t you know how to make a fire?” You ask and he frowns.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know” You shrug, “Weren’t you like a country boy or something?”

With that, Michael lets out the biggest belly laugh ever, leaving you to smile as he cackles away at your words. Your tone had been obviously playful, but it still made it just as funny for him.

“I lived at a farm. I wasn’t a cave man!” He exclaims, tilting his head to look at you better.

“Sounds the same to me.”

He smiles at you and you bring one of your hands to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. You lean in and give him the softest peck you could. When pulling away, you look at him in the eyes as he tries to pull you into another kiss. You let him, letting your lips rest over the softness of his as you too fall into the pit of slow and lovingly making out.

He sits up in the middle of the kiss and you sit over his legs as he does it. His hands travel effortlessly down your waist to your legs, lifting your skirt enough to slither in his hands underneath.

You pull away and look down at him as you stand on your knees, adjusting your seating on his thighs. You peck his lips multiple times before sitting back and eyeing him.

“I love you” He confesses in a whisper, eyes staring back onto yours, “so much”

“Really?” You ask, serious, leaning a little back and he frowns.

“Yeah…?”

He’s confused, but soon your playful smile reappears.

“How much, again?”

“A lot.”

“How much is ‘a lot’?” You keep going. “Like, ‘a lot’ like the size of a mountain or ‘a lot’ as in…” You think for a second, but he interrupts.

“How old are you again?” He teases about your childish words and you force your smile to disappear, just so you can scowl at him.

“Oh, fuck off” You say to him, “I was trying to be cute here, no need to ruin the moment for us.”

“Alright, keep going then” He says, “The size of a mountain or…?”

“Uhm… The size of…” You try to think, mind completely blank over any ideas. “The size of… the ocean?”

He chuckles at your final words and you grin.

“The ocean.” He says, sure of his words, no hesitation.

You stay silent for a bit.

“Which one?”

“Oh, come on!” He says, completely bored out of this conversation, making you laugh at him, “The biggest one you can think of”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, can you please” He emphasizes the word comically, dragging it, “for the love of God, just tell me that you love me back?”

You kiss his lips over his frown.

“You’re so romantic.” You comment sarcastically.

“I know.”

You smile at him and decide not to give in just yet. The boy can suffer for a bit.

Telling him that you loved him now or in 5 minutes won’t exactly make that much of a difference.

You stand up on your feet, away from his lap, and he stares up at you while letting out a sigh.

“You gotta earn it.” You say with a playful look, making his frown break slightly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You nod.

You take a step back as he stands up and your smile doesn’t disappear at all as you move away from him. Every step forward from Michael is a step back for you, making his urge to get to you bigger.

And soon, the running around starts.

You laugh as you run from him, sometimes feeling his fingers graze over your arms, making your heart beat faster with the adrenaline.

The tall weeds slap the skin of your exposed legs softly, tickling you as you ran away from your boyfriend. The scenery in front of you motivates into keeping on running, the summery flowers all open and colorfully staring up at the sky.

All you hear is your soft steps over the plants and the birds, it gives you peace. You can still hear Michael running behind you.

You let out a giggle as he’s about to touch you and out of nowhere, it stops.

The warm breeze lifts into a cold one and you look around confused.

You know that the weather can be unpredictable, but this is too radical for it to make sense.

Your hands start getting cold rapidly and soon your body is enveloped into complete body chills, your dress being nothing but useless when it comes to make you stay warm.

The breeze goes from cold to freezing in the matter of seconds, leaving you nothing but panicked.

You feel lightheaded and short of breath and as you try to warm yourself up with your own arms, soon you realize… You can’t feel your own palms touching your skin.

The sunlight fades as clouds fly their way in to color the skies a dark grey and you stare up.

You’re in a dream.

You’re dreaming.

You look over your shoulder at Michael to find him just as confused just a few steps away. He must have stopped running right as you did. But his skin, is not reacting like yours. His exposed arms, from the folded sleeves are not reacting to the cold in chills. It’s like it’s not affecting him.

He’s not the real Michael.

“What’s happening?” He asks you.

“I don’t know” You lie. You know exactly what’s happening.

Your dream is becoming a nightmare.

You look around as the wind gets harsher and your heart starts to beat more violently, just like your shortness of breath forces you into panting your way to find your peace again.

You step closer to Michael and cup his face.

He stares back at you still with his confused eyes and you kiss him. Your lips touch his and his hands come to rest over your waist as the wind continues to come at full force towards you.

Your hands feel numb, not being able to feel the texture of his suit, just like you had felt a few minutes prior. But you feel his hands, the way they rest on your waist, warming your skin under the violent and freezing wind.

“I love you,” You tell him as you pull away.

You open your eyes and you’re met with Michael’s pale face. His eyes are empty, with absolutely no light or sign of life.

You caress his cold cheeks with your thumbs, and you notice blood over his bottom lip. His hands had fallen a second ago from your waist, and you already miss his familiar warmth.

You bring your finger to wipe the blood away carefully and notice that it’s all over his mouth, coloring his white bottom teeth.

A small trail of blood starts falling off his nose and soon from his ears as well, slowly coloring your hands into the color red.

Red, hands completely filled with deep red, now that you try and wipe it.

Michael falls onto his knees and you do the same, holding him close to you even though it’s just his corpse. He’s cold and his hold is not even there anymore. His arms are by his sides as his head rests over your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him, and the wind becomes more and more violent.

You force your eyes closed and let it take you too.

You open your eyes, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth. You’re not panting anymore, but your heart is beating quickly.

You try to sit up, but a sudden jab of pain hits you. You gasp and wince in pain but still bring yourself to do it. A sob escapes your mouth too right as you’re able to sit upright.

Your face feels wet and cold in the air of the room. You must have been crying before you woke up.

You whine in pain as you bring yourself to turn on the light beside you and as the warm yellow light illuminates the room, all you see is blood.

Your own blood, spread around your white shirt and white sheets, painting your hands just like in your dream.

“Pol-” You try to call out, but your voice breaks in a sob as pain runs through you.

You sob into the empty and silent air and try it again.

“Polly!” You sob out loud, hoping that that was enough to awake her if it’s late enough for that.

You wait a few long seconds for any sound coming from the hallway or stairs, but nothing.

“Polly!” You try to scream louder.

Polly holds her hand up to shut up Gina and the room falls silent. Michael leans forward from the railing of the stairs and looks at his mom confused; arms still crossed over his chest.

“Poll-” You cough.

Michael, before Polly could even get up, makes his way up the stairs and runs down the hall, trying his best to be fast enough to get to your room.

Your door swings open and you continue to sob as the lights are turned on.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You sob to whoever is at the door, staring down at your hands, “I-I, I woke up and…”

Michael shakes his shock away at the sight of your bed all bloodied, just like your hands, and walks towards you. His eyes fall to your shirt and notices from where your blood is coming from, your wound.

“Mom!” Michael shouts while looking up at the door.

Your ears start to buzz as panic starts to set in in your system and two hands move yours away from your eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice repeats and you sob helplessly.

Michael sits in front of you in the bed and brings you close to him, ignoring that he’s now being covered in blood as well.

He makes you rest your hands on his shoulders so that they’re away from your eyes and starts to unbutton some of the buttons of your shirt.

Polly finally gets to the door and the sight is absolutely terrifying.

“She ripped stitches. I think.”

Polly forces herself to walk to the bed and to help Michael check your wound. He continues to unbutton your shirt with one hand only and he’s quick to rip the bandage off.

You sob in pain as he does it and both him and Polly try to look past the blood and ignore your sobs to see what happened to your wound. It opened, maybe 3 of the 9 stitches ripped.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Polly says.

Michael nods and holds you closer to him, not wanting you to move too far away. Your side rests against his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, while one of his hands grabs the sheets and holds them over the wound.

You sob silently while leaning closer to him and he looks up at your face.

“Hey. You’re okay, look at me.” He whispers at you and you do it, “You’re okay. It’s not too bad. You’re safe. I promise.”

You stare at him in the eyes and he leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re okay” He whispers lower.

You nod as tears continue to roll down your face and he nods with you. Your breathing starts to slow down, and he presses a kiss over your wet cheek.

“I got you.” He whispers against your skin.

(…)

Michael sighs loudly as he walks into the kitchen and he feels exhausted.

“Is the doctor finished?” Polly asks him and he just nods, “And her?”

“Passed out before he could even start” He answers, “The doctor said to just let her sleep.”

He walks towards the sink and he turns on the water, holding his bloody hands under it. The two women standing in the kitchen are silent, watching him wash his hands carelessly while staring at the wall.

“I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” Polly says.

His mom walks out of the kitchen and he turns off the water, turning around to face Gina.

“Are we going to the hotel after this?” She asks softly.

“I can drive you there, but I’m staying here, tonight.”

She takes a deep breath and brings her hands to her head, annoyed.

“Why? She’s asleep. You can visit her tomorrow.” She tries.

“I’ll sleep better here.”

She scoffs.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable?” Michael answers, bringing his hand up to point at his own chest.

“Yes!” She almost screams, “You are unbelievable! And you want to know why?” She asks, “Because no matter what I fucking do or fucking say, you will always put her before me.”

“Always, Gina? Are you serious?” Michael asks in disbelief, “You’ve been my fucking priority ever since we met, and now because I show some sort of affection towards a girl that is fucking bleeding and crying her lungs out, I’m supposedly putting her before you?”

“Yes! I don’t even know what you had with her before me!” She shouts, “Ever since I step foot into this shit hole I’ve been listening to her name and seeing her over and over again. Do you really think I believe that she’s simply a ‘family friend’?” She air-quotes.

“You want the truth?” He asks, no shouting needed, but he sounds mad.

“Yes.”

“We dated for 4 years, almost 5. I ended our relationship when in America.” He answers and Gina stands silent, “See? I can tell you the truth when you ask nicely.”

“And if you broke up why do you still like her?” She asks, ignoring his hateful tease at the end of his sentence.

“You have to be joking-”

“Are you going to say that that’s a lie?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, “Let me give you some of my truth, Michael. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you two went through, or if you were in a good relationship or not when with her, but you broke up. I don’t care why, but you did. And there was a time when you chose me over her. That’s why you proposed, right?”

Michael doesn’t answer her.

“So, please, for the love of God, stop being a child and move on with your life. You’ve been mopping around her, touching her all the time as if you’re dying to do it at every second of the day… Even if she does still like you, you are with me now, not her.” She spits at him, “Move. On. She’s not yours anymore, Michael. I am.”

He swallows hard at her words and looks at her emptily.

Polly makes her way back inside the kitchen, acting as if she didn’t hear a thing, but that seems to not scare off Gina from continuing.

“Are you even listening to m-?”

“I am.”

“Then say something, Michael.” She scolds, “Is it not true, what I’m saying?”

Polly looks between them as if waiting for it to evolve in any way, and simply extends her hand towards Michael, so he can grab the clean shirt.

“Is she your priority or no-”

“Yes.” Michael answers, “Y/N is my priority.” He nods, sure of himself and his words. “Yes, I’m engaged to you, Gina, but I care for her, and she will always be my priority.”

Gina bites her tongue and looks at Michael.

It honestly comes to no surprise. She had just thrown these words at him not that long ago, at lunch. He had just never confirmed it for her, and now… he did. But ‘always’? You will always be his priority? Now, that, doesn’t sit right with her.

They stand in silence and Michael leans back on the counter, finally taking the shirt from his mom’s hands. He thanks her with a look but to no avail because her eyes are not even on him.

“You’re serious?” Gina comments in slight disbelief.

“I am.” Michael confirms.

“What does that mean for us, then?” She asks.

Michael stays silent and the blonde slides off the highchair she has been sitting on, standing on her heels. Her eyes stay on him as tears threaten to swell up at her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” Michael answers truthfully.

She nods at his words and brings her eyes to the ground. She feels disappointed but mostly betrayed. Her eyes are good to show that emotion, but soon, it evolves into something else. Pure anger. Anger over the betraying words and truth, the one that just got thrown around as if it was nothing.

And Polly notices it.

“I think it’s better if you leave, Gina.”

Michael takes his eyes off his fiancée to stare at his mother, who just opened her mouth. He didn’t expect her to get herself involved in his worries, but she did.

“What?” Gina asks, bringing her head back up to stare at Polly.

“You heard me.”

Her eyes travel to Michael in hopes that he would defend her, but nothing. He’s just staring back at her, almost holding the same look as his mother.

He doesn’t want her here. He wants her to leave.

She shakes her head, overcome with emotion, and forces her feet to move. Her palms tingle with the idea of hitting something, or rather, someone, but her eyes fill with tears.

How could have she been so stupid?

She slams the front door shut behind her and the Gray family stand in the kitchen unphased.

“Rather dramatic that one, uh?” Polly asks her son.

Michael doesn’t answer her venomous comment, but that didn’t seem to surprise her. His mother walks around the counter and grabs the cup Gina used for her whiskey, bringing it to the sink so she can wash it.

It’s like this conversation didn’t affect her a slight bit.

Michael feels weird. He doesn’t regret telling Gina anything but the look she gave him spoke more than any of her words could. She felt betrayed by him, and she was holding back so many emotions and words.

He knows that if it wasn’t for his mom, Gina would be screaming at him, maybe even throwing stuff at the walls. Just like she usually does when she’s upset. But she didn’t do anything, she decided to contain herself and not scream or even curse him out.

And honestly, Michael doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that she could be destroying his mom’s kitchen or the fact that she’s bottling up all her frustration and anger.

He thought he knew Gina before coming back home, but the trip only made him and her show their true colors. One can’t stop comparing his newfound love to his old one, and the other obsesses over the idea of power and desperately wanting to overthrow anyone in her way.

Quite a pair, that’s for sure.

(…)

You open your eyes as the lights burns your eyelids open and an involuntary groan runs off your mouth as you’re hit with the morning light right in the face. You turn your head to the side, but you’re met with another window with the curtains open.

“Fuck.” You curse out loud.

You sit up and another sound escapes your mouth, but this time, a whimper of pain.

It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you finally remember why you’re in pain in the first place.

“Jesus Christ.” You comment to yourself, again.

Your bloody sheets are set to the side, right next to your door, and before your mind could even try to process it, you push any thoughts of your nightmare away from you.

You pull yourself up carefully and try to ignore the tightness that you feel over your wound. You’re not quite sure what happened after the doctor appeared, but if you’re still at Polly’s house, it could only mean one thing…

It’s not as bad as it looked.

You walk to the bathroom and the sight that meets your eyes is, just, great.

Your shirt is mostly unbuttoned, bloodied, just like your bra. Some of your skin has been cleaned, but not all. Your face as some blood smeared on it, but it doesn’t surprise you. You remember moving so much when you woke up, it would be a miracle it your feet would be clean.

You throw the clothes into the bin and start cleaning yourself off. You can’t exactly bath over having to make the wound be dry at all times. But you have been able to manage quite nicely. With weird positions, for sure, but you’re able to wash your body and hair quite nicely.

You put on some washed clothes on and make your way out of the bedroom. It must be really early since the house is more than silent.

Before you walk down the stairs, you walk over to the guest’s room just to check. Finn is laying on his back over the large bed, mouth partly open as some light snores escape his lips, making you smile at him.

You take a step back and close the door back up. He must’ve gotten here after the doctor.

You make your way down the stairs easily, and as soon as your eyes land on the couch, you see Michael.

He’s awake with a mug on his hands, eyes on the carpet as he is completely lost in thought. He has a scowl over his face, hiding any kind of emotion from anyone’s eyes, and as your feet finally meet the last step, he looks up.

His scowl disappears and a slight grin appears over his lips.

“Good morning.” You say before he could.

“Good morning.” He answers back.

You walk towards him and he watches you as you carry yourself with ease over to the couch. You take a seat next to him and notice that his mug is still filled with warm coffee.

He extends the mug your way when noticing your interest and you smile, taking it.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

The hot mug burns your cold palms, and you welcome the almost uncomfortable heat into your skin. You bring it to your lips and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You’re sitting close to Michael, sitting on top of one of your legs as you sit looking at him. You’re not wearing much more than a shirt, exposing your legs to him and to anyone in the house, but you don’t seem uncomfortable with your lack of clothing.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks and you bring the mug down from your mouth, licking your lips at the same time.

“Yeah” You nod.

You give him back his mug after taking your generous sips and he takes it back onto his hands.

“When did Finn get here?” You ask him, curious.

“About half an hour after the doctor left.” He answers, leaning forward to put down the burning mug on the coffee table, finding it impossible to drink from how hot it is, still.

You nod at as his answer and while you’re thinking about what else to ask, he speaks again.

“You scared the living shit out of us last night.” He says, making you look back at him.

His eyes are back on the carpet and your chest tightens at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t.” He says, finally looking back up, “It’s not your fault.”

He leans back on the couch and both of you continue to look at each other. The air is not thick as it usually is, it’s light and easy to breathe in. Your looks are both familiar, always taking your minds back in time for a quick second.

Your mind takes you to your dream and soon his pale face reappears in your mind. You shake the thoughts away, right as Michael opens his mouth to talk.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I can make you something to eat.”

You smile widely at him and bring your hands to your lap.

“Are you finally proving yourself useful around the house?” You tease, making him smile back, “I must be in a dream. Since when do you-”

“I’ve always been able to cook” He defends himself.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!”

“Michael, you couldn’t even cook potatoes!”

“Couldn’t!” He says to you, leaning forward to be right in front of you, “Things have changed in my kitchen.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he smiles down at you and he stands from the couch. He gives you his hand and as soon as your palms touch, he pulls you up from the couch.

“Come on, I’ll show you my experienced cooking.” He encourages as you take small, demotivated steps his way, “Do you want me to make you potatoes, just so I can prove my point?”

“No.” You giggle, “Just- Do whatever.”

He turns around and starts walking to the kitchen, letting your hand fall from his as you stay a little behind.

“You know what?” You ask him as you get in the kitchen, making him look back at you, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were”

Michael laughs at your words as you say them, and he nods.

“Oh, why, thank you!” He says enthusiastically, “Aren’t you lovely right as the sun rises?”

You let out a loud laugh and he moves over behind the island counter, looking around the cabinets to look for something to cook for you.

You stare at the back of his head as he walks around and take a seat on one of the chairs.

One could get used to this.

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes @iccyyyybitch @ravennaofasgar @carezzesuigraffi @fernweh-fangirl @hufflepeople @huskyhunny @desertgremlin @fireawayxx @lemur46 @sugarcoated-lame @i-sneeze-to-appease @gabytodd @cococola-cocaine @namelesslosers

If you’d like to be apart of the taglist, let me know.

Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray imagine #michael gray imagines #michael gray fic #michael gray fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #finn cole #finn cole x reader #finn cole imagine #finn cole imagines

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butchniqabi · 3 years

Photo

And Death Was But a Dream by Amatullah Bourdon

[Waves Breaking against the Wind. Joseph Mallord William Turner c.1840 / Excalibur (1981) dir. John Boorman / Run With The Wind Abstract Painting. Liz W. Fine Art]

Words: 1415

Warnings: None

Notes: For those of you who don’t know, in some Arthurian legends it is said that Merlin lives his life backwards. Now as for what that means logistically....I have no idea, but I was always drawn to the idea of his relationships and how they would function. So I wrote something super short and a little messy, but have at it! Lemme know what you think!

Everyone spoke of the Wizard who lived in the city. He was said to have visions of the future, to be able to see past the confines of everyday life. When I first came to the city, all those years ago, I did not expect to meet him. Wizards were naturally reclusive creatures, only venturing out to give aid and occasional bad advice. This city’s Wizard was especially contrary, for the townsfolk whispered that he had an especially strange life and an even stranger affliction.

The day we met, my third day in the city, I had just found employment as a washerwoman. Unglamorous and hard work, I spent my first two days in the humid chambers listening to the other women gossip. They spoke of this Wizard in hushed tones and never said his name louder than a whisper.

When my long shift ended, I took a walk around the city, taking in the life around me. I was still young in those days, despite the grey that began to appear in my hair. God knows how long I wandered aimlessly. All I know is that eventually, I found him.

The crowd parted around him, afraid of his touch, but he did not frighten me. His skin was dark brown like mine, kissed with a deep red undertone. He had a long beard, only lightly tinged with grayness; the coils that peaked out beneath his hat were the same. His eyes were deep set and hooded, glistening with unshed tears.

He stood before me, donning robes of constellations and suns, and wept.

There was little I could do to console him, he was in such a state. I grabbed his hand then, hoping to soothe him through touch. I felt a strange pull to him, a desire to wipe his tears and kiss his face.

When he calmed slightly, he looked into my soul. I felt that my whole life was laid bare for him to see, but I found I did not mind. When he looked through me, I realized I could look through him. Not as clearly, but I saw his honesty and kindness.

“I apologize,” he said nasally. “Might I walk with you, so I might explain my behavior?”

Of course I said yes.

I took his arm gently, the fabric of his strange robes soft under my hand. It moved around him like running water and shined just as brightly. He did not hold onto me tightly, but I knew he wanted to.

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Listen,” he avoided. “Do you hear the wind?”

“Yes.”

“What does it say to you?”

I listened and only heard wind. It rustled over leaves and grass, whistled through windows and open doors. It did not sing to me, it was merely wind. I told him as much.

“When I hear the wind, I hear the very earth itself. I can hear the grass grow, die, and grow again. I see the stars in the middle of the day and they sing to me, oh do they sing. This is the curse of a Wizard: sight. We see the world much more clearly than everyone else, that’s what makes us so terrifying.” he said, mostly to himself.

I pitied him. I pity him. He did not speak of this ability with joy or reverence, to him it was truly a curse. I did not understand him clearly then, but I wanted to reach out to him. Instead I asked, “Who are you?”

He looked at me and smiled toothily. “I am the Wizard Merlin.”

I was not surprised, not truly. He had lived in this city from the beginning. Ever since it was named Camelot and knights of old would swear a vow of chivalry. Those days were long past, but Merlin remained.

“But how?” I asked. “You don’t look like an old man.”

“I do not live as you do.” he whispered.

“Then how do you live?”

“The first time we met, you were sad because it was the last you would see of me. Now it is my turn. I am destined to live my life contrary to those around me. As time goes on for you I get younger, because I am destined to live my life backwards.”

“Backwards,” I said, feeling the word in my mouth. “So you mean we’ve already met before?”

“Yes, I have spent many years with you. The best years I believe. And now my time is up, today is my final day with you. But for you, today is merely the beginning.”

I believed him, do not ask me why I did. And there was an inexplicable sadness that overcame me. I would get to live my life with him, but he would never see me again.

“Why do you live this way?” I asked.

“I found that if I wished to seek power, it would come at a great price. I can help many people, but I always move backwards...always backwards.”

I wanted to apologize. I wanted to scold him. I wanted to ask him so many things that I never became bold enough to ask after that moment passed.

Instead I said, “That must be lonely.”

“It is. It’s very lonely.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know you yet. I’m sorry you’ve watched me forget.”

He laughed at me then, spinning me around and lifting me into the air.

“I would not change a single moment.” he said and meant it.

Today is the first day he’s met me. Now, I know how he felt. Years have passed and now it is my turn. The life I had lived with him, the man I had come to love was not yet made. He does not recognize me, nor does he fully understand my sadness. There was a time when we were perfectly in sync; I knew him just as much as he knew me. But as that time passed, he knew me less and less. He forgot more things, asked simple questions. Every day I spent with him he grew farther and farther from me.

I knew it was destined to be, from the very first time we met and still it haunts me. How like the moon and sun we are: constantly moving, only briefly touching. I love him with a fierceness and desperation that makes my heart weep, for now is my last day with him. My life must continue without him, his life has yet to begin with me.

Wizards! My Wizard! Cursed to live his life backwards, cursed to hear the whistling of the stars, cursed to fall. I asked him all the time, was it worth it? Is it worth it? Is the power that comes with such a curse worth the sadness and pain? And he always says yes, no matter when I ask him. Helping people, charting stars, and gazing into the universe is who he is. His wonder is one of the reasons I love him.

Could I have stopped myself from loving him? Was that ever truly an option? You cannot stop the rain from falling or the wind from singing. I love him. I loved him. I will love him. Even as he stands before me, a stranger, I still love him. I once thought if God was merciful He would release him from the curse, but now I know the mercy exists in our time together. In order to be the great man I know (the great man he has not yet become) he must continue to go backwards. I must let him go backwards.

Now there is less grey in his beard. He still has the kind, deep set eyes, the gap in his teeth. But he does not know me. He asks me my name and I tell him. I tell him with all the sorrow in my heart. I tell him he will see me tomorrow and that he means the world to me. I do not tell him about the illnesses he will defeat, the children he will save, or how he is destined to aid the once and future king, Arthur Pendragon. Instead I smile and give him a kiss on the cheek and try not to cry.

He is the Wizard Merlin, the man who lives his life contrary to others. I will not see him tomorrow. This is the first day he has met me, so I will never see him again.

#my writing #idk if this is worth going into my #writeblr #tag but oh well....#take it! and yes i made them black and yes its not anyway consistent with whats out there but you know what?#my ass is fat and i dont care

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hutchhitched · 3 years

Text

What You Deserve, What You Need, What You Want

Written by: @hutchhitched

Prompt 109: Dialogue prompt: “I deserve better than this!” [submitted by @xerxia31]

Ratings/Warnings: E

A/N: I’m continuing to post the nine @everlarkficexchange prompts I took and then sat on throughout the early months of the pandemic. This is the seventh of the nine. Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. Huge thanks to @javistg for understanding the delays. Better get myself in gear to finish the last two before the next round starts!

“I deserve better than this!”

Katniss nods and pats her sister on the back. “You do, and you should say it.”

“I just did. You clearly weren’t listening.”

Prim grins at her sister, and they continue scrubbing the walls of the house Prim and her husband just purchased. Katniss really can’t believe her little sister is married, especially at the young age of 22, but Prim has always been the one who’s gotten what she wants while Katniss…

Well, if anyone deserves better than this, Katniss thinks it might be her.

“When’s your husband getting here? I thought he wasn’t going to make us do all the work. That’s clearly not the case as evidenced by my arm that’s about to fall off.”

Letting her limb drop, Katniss sits down heavily on the hardwood floor. It’s stripped and rough, ready for a good sanding and polish to make it glow like new. Right now, though, it’s rather anemic looking with blonde wood that seems old and faded. Or maybe that’s just how Katniss feels about herself. Old and faded, always in the shadow of her baby sister who everyone’s continuously adored and coddled.

It’s not that Prim’s ever taken advantage of it either. She’s as sweet and kind and generous as they come. It’s just the phenomenon that things have a tendency of working out for the younger Everdeen sibling that Katniss would envy if she didn’t love her sister so much. Still, she’s tired—drained from working hard and scraping by, exhausted from the mental toll of keeping everything together for so long when she shouldn’t have had to, and weary from hoping and wishing and being disappointed repeatedly. It sucks, and it’s not fair, but that’s reality for Katniss and Prim Everdeen.

Except Prim isn’t an Everdeen anymore. She’s married now with her husband’s name, and Katniss is the lonely older sister who hasn’t dated anyone for the past six years. If she sees one more person look at her with pity, she might have to scream.

“Ah, there’s my gorgeous husband now,” Prim says, her face beaming at the sight of her man. “Hey, honey. Missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” comes the reply, and Katniss cringes as she climbs to her feet. It’s not her ex-boyfriend, but it’s close enough. Rory Hawthorne is the spitting image of his handsome older brother who happens to be the last man Katniss let get her naked. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since she’s gone to bed with someone. She’s hurtling headlong into her sexual prime, and nothing. Not a potential to be found.

“Well, if it isn’t Catnip Everdeen! As I live and breathe.”

Katniss turns slowly to see Gale Hawthorne standing in the door, framed by sunlight and looking like a moody Greek god. Her body betrays her, and she can feel her reaction course through her veins. She forces herself to play nice and nods in his direction.

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “I can’t get a hug and a kiss from an old flame and my current sister-in-law? We’re family now. Where’s the love?”

Katniss stands woodenly as Gale embraces her and kisses her on the cheek. It’s awkward as hell, but Gale’s never been able to read the room well when he’s already made up his mind. She tenses as a ruckus sounds outside, and it’s not long before a handful of men pour into the house. They’re all tall and varying stages of broad, and every one of them is dressed as some version of a cool-kid-construction-worker.

“What are you? Part of a new boy band? Performing covers for the Village People?”

Rory steps between them. “Hey! Truce. This is my house, and you’re upsetting my wife. Knock it off.”

All the men hoot and holler, catcalling Gale and, by extension, her except for one who slinks along the outside of the room. He seems embarrassed by the toxic masculinity, and he brushes his hair off his forehead in a riot of ashy blonde curls. Katniss likes him immediately.

“And I deserve that,” Katniss says in a stage whisper to her sister as she nods her head. “Who’s he, and why haven’t I been introduced?”

Prim calls to the room. “Calm yourselves, boys. Meet my sister, Katniss. Katniss, these are the guys. You know Gale, and these three are Thom and Darius and Rye. The one over there is Rye’s brother Peeta. He’s the well-behaved one. Maybe you can help him today. You don’t deserve any of these other guys. They’ll only make you question your life choices and swear off men for good.”

Katniss waves at them all, showing her annoyance at their behavior in her tight smile. Giving each of them a wide berth, she crosses the room and approaches Peeta. “Nice to meet you,” she says, and he flashes her a smile that, in tandem with his cerulean blue eyes, makes her knees weak. Oh yes, she definitely deserves better, and he just might be it.

“Nice to meet you, too, Katniss,” he answers in a voice that makes her want to strip down and let him have his way with her. His voice isn’t just sexy; it’s absolutely scandalous.

She swallows her arousal and asks as casually as she can, “You need any help? I hear you’re the only one here who won’t sexualize me.”

He chuckles, and she contemplates selling her soul to the devil for a shot with him. She’s never been attracted to someone this intensely in such a short amount of time. It’s actually quite unnerving for someone like her who’s fairly shy and quiet and aloof.

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t fall for you by the end of the day, but I’ll do my best.” When he winks at her, she vows to make it happen. She has no idea how, but she’s got a few hours to figure it out.

They spend the afternoon together sanding and painting. If she brushes against him multiple times, he doesn’t seem to mind. When he brackets her in his arms as she holds a section of drywall, she leans back against him. His chest is hard behind her, and she breathes in his scent. He’s a glorious combination of clean sweat and cinnamon from what must be his aftershave. He laughs at her jokes and entertains her with stories of his own. She’s never been great at making friends, but it’s so easy with him. At one point, she catches Prim’s eye as the afternoon slides into evening, and her sister winks at her.

As the sun sets, things wind down. One by one, Rory and Prim’s friends say goodbye and make their respective exits. Gale seems to want to linger, but Rory and Prim remind him they’re spending the night at his place and insist they need showers before they treat him to dinner. He’s not very happy about it, but her ex-boyfriend leaves after giving her a suspicious look that makes her want to stick out her tongue at him. Katniss promises to lock the door behind her when she leaves, and then she and Peeta are alone with the house quiet around them. There’s a sudden strain between them that makes her squirm. After the ease of the day, the isolation is a little awkward, so she figures she might as well ease the tension with a lame joke.

“Well, now that we’re alone…” Peeta chuckles and gives her a lopsided grin. She worries her knees will give out as the power of it hits her, so she leans heavily against the newly spackled section of the wall.

“I had a really nice time working with you. When Rory asked me to help today, I didn’t think—” He breaks off and ducks his head as his face and neck redden.

Laughing at his bashfulness, she asks, “You didn’t think what? You’re awfully cute with pink cheeks, by the way, so you might as well go ahead and tell me.”

“I didn’t think I’d be matched up with someone so pretty.” She ducks her head, not used to flattery. “I just had a really, really good day. I was due for one or two of those. Really needed it.”

“Well, I’m glad I could give you what you needed.”

The air’s charged with electricity, and she raises her eyes to look at him. His are hooded, pupils dilated, as he stares at her. She has the sudden realization that she’s alone with someone she barely knows, and he’s looking at her like she’s a snack for him to devour.

“I wonder,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I wonder if you could.”

“If I could what?”

This isn’t supposed to happen to her. She’s never been this lucky in anything and definitely not this fortunate in relationships. Yet, somehow, he’s here with her and seems to want what she’s just realizing might be possible. He walks toward her slowly, licking his lips as he does, and stops so close that she can feel his body heat.

“If you could give me what I really need.”

Her throat’s dry, and she gives a tiny squeak when she tries to speak. He lifts his hand to brush away the stray tendrils of hair that escaped from her braid as they worked. His fingertips sweep lightly across her cheek, and his thumb strokes along her bottom lip. She wants to suck on it.

“I thought you promised not to fall for me.”

“Oh, no,” he argued. “In fact, I think I promised exactly the opposite—that I couldn’t promise not to. Now, the question remains. Can you?”

“Give you what you really need?”

“And will you?”

“I’d like to try,” she whispers. “I really would.”

“I think you’re the type that really tries.” His voice is husky and deep, and she shivers when his breath ghosts across her neck. “In fact, I think you’re the kind of woman who believes in trying multiple times until she’s sure everyone is perfectly satisfied. Am I right?”

Katniss squeaks again, unable to answer right away. He strokes her arm slowly, brushing up and down and grazing the side of her breast. She’s positive he knows exactly what he’s doing to her.

“Satisfaction’s the goal,” she finally croaks.

He crushes into her then, his body full and tight against hers as he pushes her into the wall and kisses her like a man possessed. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect. His tongue sweeps along hers, massages and plundering so deeply she can only gasp and respond in kind. He’s everywhere—his scent, his arms and hands and chest, his soft moans catching in the back of his throat, heat leaching from his skin. It’s too much and not nearly enough. It’s overwhelming, but she wants every speck of it.

There’s an old couch in the back room, and Peeta lifts her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carries her to it. He lays her out on it without breaking the kiss and settles in between her legs. Bucking upward, she whimpers at the friction. He’s solid and heavy, and she basks in the weight. Anxiety bleeds from her, and she sighs into the kiss.

“Katniss,” he whispers, her word a sermon of longing and awe.

“I don’t ever do this,” she answers, her eyes closed and breath uneven. When he makes a move to pull back, she threads her fingers through his hair. “No, don’t stop.”

Peeta grunts in response and sucks the spot at the hinge of her jaw. His hands are all over her. Long fingers, massive palms, and blunt fingernails that knead, warming her skin and pushing her closer to the edge. He rucks up her shirt, and she shivers as he slides down her body and laves at the skin there. When his hand runs up the bare skin of her inner thigh, she moans lustily and considers begging him for more.

“Take this off,” he requests, his tone polite and gentle, but there’s an underlying authority that makes her want to obey. He helps her to upright and watches as she tugs her tank top over her head. When’s she free, he caresses her torso before reaching behind her to unlatch her bra. Squirming under his scrutiny, she’s vulnerable, but he takes care as he fiddles with her waistband and then shoves her shorts down her legs. She’s left with nothing but a scrap of peach silk between her legs. “You have no idea the effect you have, do you? No clue how crazy you drove me all day today in your little bitty clothes. Are you a tease, Katniss, or are you that unaware how beautiful you are?”

“I’m not—”

“You are, and tonight you get what you deserve. What you need. What you want so much you don’t even know how to say it, but I know because I want it, too.”

His hand is between her legs, his fingers brushing aside the fabric, his thumb pressing on her clit, his palm cupping her heat. She can’t think, and that’s exactly what she wants. She deserves to feel good; she needs someone to help with that, and she wants it to be him.

“Please.” The word echoes in the air between them, shimmering with longing.

His face is between her legs, buried in her pussy, licking and sucking at her swollen lips. She twists under him, desperate to get away at the same time she wants to grind into his mouth and let him make her break. She cries out, overwhelmed at how quickly she’s wet. Her shins are on his shoulders, her legs bent so he can lick deeper into her, and she can’t do anything but enjoy it. She’s helpless to resist him, not that she’d want to try.

She doesn’t. He’s too good at it. His mouth is fire, devouring her like it’s his only job—to be put on earth and eat her out. Not only doesn’t she last, it’s shockingly fast. When he curls his tongue into her and then sucks her clit so hard she sees stars, she arches and allows warm honey to ooze through her. Thrashing under him, she doesn’t try to stay quiet or still. There’s no way when he’s so good at this anyway. When she melts into the cushions, he sits up and grins at her with a wet chin and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“These panties are completely ruined,” he murmurs and tears them in two. When she groans, he pulls them free and trails them over her heated skin. “You feel that? Sopping wet. That’s all you, sweetheart. All of that wetness is you telling me how good I make you feel. I bet we can both keep going, though. Don’t you think?”

She doesn’t trust herself to speak, so she merely nods and then watches in appreciation as he unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it over his shoulders. Miles of smooth, honeyed pink skin is bared for her, and she licks her lips eagerly. He stands and unbuckles his belt, putting on a show for her. Cheeky and a tiny bit cocky, he shifts his hips until he springs free. He’s hard and long and thick and ready, and she wants it.

“Flip over,” he says. “Get up on your hands and knees.”

She does, quivering in anticipation and hisses when he spreads her cheeks and rubs his cock against her. It’s torture not being able to see him, but she can hear the tear of a foil packet before he’s pressing against her, his blunt head probing her entrance. Impatient, she rears back, but he holds her hips firmly, easing into her and stretching her around him.

“Such a tight little pussy,” he grunts. “Perfect, and so fucking wet. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Tell me everything. Let me give it to you. Take what you deserve.”

She wails his name. She needs him inside, and he has to move. He has to. She’s going to die if he doesn’t. She’s never been good at dirty talk, but he pushes a button that lets it pour forth. Her requests are filthy, lewd, and debased, but he fulfills every single request.

She can’t remember the last time someone fucked her quite like this, but that’s what this is. He’s in charge, and she’s merely along for the ride. He thrusts upward and lifts her knees off the couch with every stroke. Scrambling for purchase, she clings to the back of the couch. It’s rough and dirty and quick, and she screams when he reaches around and rubs her clit furiously. Her arms give, and he holds her aloft as he slams into her repeatedly.

She crests another wave when he finally comes, pouring into the condom while her walls grip and flutter around him. They fall into a tangled heap with him slumped over her. Sweaty and panting for breath, she can’t move. He’s still inside her, hot and spent but not quite soft. She never wants him to move again.

“You never do this, huh?” he finally groans. “You sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

Katniss giggles, the action so unfamiliar that it startles her for a minute. But then she’s laughing, filled with mirth and relief and something that seems a little bit like hope. He joins her, his baritone melding with her treble tone to form a glorious harmony. Finally, she regains control and shifts her head so she can kiss his forehead gently.

“You’re right, and you should say it.”

“Can I get your number? I’d kinda like to see if you know how to date. I bet you’d be really good at that, too.”

Katniss grins and sighs with happiness. “I can give you my number, but you don’t need it to ask me on a date. Just do it. I’ll say yes.”

Peeta grins lazily and strokes her back. He trails his lips across her cheek to her mouth and kisses her softly. “Will you go out with me?”

“Yes,” she answers firmly. “Is tonight too soon?”

“Tonight can’t get here soon enough.”

#everlarkficexchange #springtime edition 2020 #prompt 109 #everlark fanfiction #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #what you deserve what you need

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lordrethandus · 3 years

Text

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 6

Festival ( @daily-writing-challenge, @syrahnbloodfeather )

World: Warcraft

Diing! Doong! Diing! Doong!

The cathedral bells have startled Syrahn every hour since midday. This was the seventh time since she was ripped away from her peaceful slumber, and it would be another three before she tried to fall asleep again. The little girl cupped her hands over her ears and prayed the ringing in her head would leave as quickly as it came, but she was never so fortunate. Her eldest brother Kiash once told her the cathedral was going to be torn down soon on Lord Kael’kro’s request, and no one was more eager for that than Syrahn.

She sat at the end of the great hall, hugged tightly by an ebon gown and a gold crimson corset with a gold choker dangling around her neck; as per customs each person of any house is encouraged to wear their family’s colors, and the little girl was eager to match with her brothers and sisters. She watched elves waltz around the dance floor in tune with the band in the distance, but she was hardly interested. They were either old men with thin grey hair or too bland to look at for too long. But in the corner of her eye, one man stood out above all the rest.

Sir Renart Andu was easily the fairest elf Syrahn had ever seen. His armor looked like solid gold and likened to a fierce dragonhawk coiled around him, starting from his left thigh with the dragonhawk’s head resting silently on his right shoulder. His crown of silver hair glimmered in the light, setting the little girl’s heart a flutter. He was the knight she envisioned when Viridias would read her stories. She clutched her chest the moment he stopped to look in her direction with a slight smile she wouldn’t soon forget, and she questioned if the Gods were favoring her this enchanting night. She quickly ran her tiny hands through her thick auburn hair to let it cascade down her left shoulder just like her sister Miriam did, hoping it would be enough to gain his undivided attention. Sir Renart approached with a commanding presence, and Syrahn swore she would faint if he called her name.

“You must be Lady Lirindas. Word around the hall is you aren’t particularly enjoying yourself tonight.” He spoke with a voice as smooth as silk. Syrahn’s heart dropped into her stomach while she shot her wild glare back and forth between this dreamy knight and her undeserving teen sister. Lirindas was wearing a similar gown, corset, and choker, but she looked so uncomfortable in all of it; she never had a taste for the finer things in life, and was therefore forced into this getup by their older sisters. Lirindas blinked while she gazed fearfully up at the towering man, hesitant to speak.

“W-well I…” She choked on her words, unsure how to respond. Sir Renart flashed his perfect teeth and extended his hand, sparking a flame in Syrahn’s stomach.

“May I trouble you with a dance?” He was so polite, and Lirindas was so awkward; she had the audacity to ignore his gesture and turn to look up at Viridias.

“Go ahead, Liri.” She commanded, nodding to her. “It's rude to deny him his request.”

Syrahn couldn't take it anymore. “What about me?!” The little girl squeaked, crossing her arms with her bottom lip sticking out at them. “I wanna dance with Mister Renart more than she does!”

“I'll dance with you after your sister, okay?” Renart winked while Lirindas sheepishly took his hand. Syrahn was not satisfied with that answer, but his smile prevented any more words from slipping from her tongue. She watched in furious envy at the Knight taking Lirindas into the crowd. He held her right hand firmly yet gently, and placed his left hand on her waist; out of the corner of Syrahn’s eyes she saw her quiet brother Vraln lurking in the darkness on the upper balcony of the great hall, watching Lirindas and this touchy stranger like a protective bear watching his cubs play in the forest. He was a man of few words, but the hardened scowl plastered on his face told Syrahn all she needed to know. Lirindas stumbled during their waltz often, and although she was too far away to hear, it was clear she was apologizing while she avoided eye contact.

“Patience, sweetie.” Viridias brushed Syrahn’s hair away and gave her a wet smooch on her forehead. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”

“But it's not fair!” She protested. “Lirindas doesn't even like dancing! Look she's stepping all over his feet!”

“It would be too difficult to dance with you. You would barely be able to stand higher than his waist.” Viridias didn't like the idea of an older man dancing with Syrahn, especially after seeing the little girl's failed attempt to seduce him. “Perhaps it would be better to dance with someone closer to your age? His brother seems cute enough, don't you think?”

“No.” Syrahn pouted, glowering across the hall to see Sir Renart’s younger brother standing with his back pressed against the wall. Nothing could convince her that Rethandus Andu was worth dancing with; he was so small and nervous beside his father, threatening to shrink away and vanish into thin air if a woman so much as looked in his direction. In her frustration Syrahn vowed to never dance with him until he became a shining knight like his coveted brother. “Andy Andu is the stupidest name I've ever heard.”

Viridias glanced down at her with disappointment but said nothing, silently wishing she would take interest in boys closer to her own age. A guard stepped forward from behind and whispered something in her ear, stirring her to rise from her seat. “I must be off, Syrie. Stay on your best behavior.”

“Buh-? Where are you going?” The girl asked, tugging at her sister's gown.

“Family business that needs my attention.” Viridias smiled, gently squeezing her hand; it was the same vague answer she would always get when her older siblings didn't want her involved, and whenever she heard those words it only made the little girl angry. She was a Bloodfeather just as much as they were, but they sheltered her from family affairs like she didn't belong. Viridias turned to the guard and gave him a modest curtsey. “See that our youngest angel doesn't get into any trouble for me.”

“Yes, Lady Bloodfeather.” The guard glanced down at Syrahn through his plated greathelm, compelling her to stick her tongue out defiantly. She had no interest in sitting here to wait and see if Sir Renart would make true to his word; he had broken her sacred trust already. She needed to escape and see what she was missing, but in order to do that she needed this guard out of her hair.

“Excuse me, Mister Guardsman.” She cleared her throat and mimicked her sister's elegance as best she could. “Could I please have some wine?”

“Absolutely not. Your brothers would put my head on a spike if I have you alcohol.” He grumbled, resting his gauntlets on his belt.

“Then perhaps some juice or water?” Syrahn prodded, ignoring his irritated groan.

“Your legs broken? Why can't you get it yourself?” The little girl lifted her gown just high enough to flash her shiny new boots.

“Viri tied my boots too tight and now my feet ache.” She lied. “It hurts to stand on them right now.”

The guard gave her an indifferent huff and waved his hand dismissively. “Didn't seem to be a problem when you wanted to dance with Prince Charming over there.”

Syrahn puffed her cheeks out while she bit her tongue, fearing she would say something that would ruin her chance of escape. “Mister Guardsman…” She started through clenched teeth. “Please… my throat is itchy and I am very thirsty…”

“Fine.” He said, sending a rush of relief through her; but that sensation was short lived, replaced with startled confusion the moment a silk ribbon was draped over her head and tightened around her waist and arms.

“W-what are you doing?” Syrahn squeaked for the second time tonight, glaring angrily up at this bold man.

“Making sure you stay put while I fetch your Majesty something to drink.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the illusion of calm elegance she worked so hard to maintain immediately vanished the moment he tied her to her chair. She kicked and flailed wildly in a desperate attempt to free herself, but she lacked the strength to tear through the silk ribbon, and the weight to topple her own chair. The guard’s laughter rang in her ears while he vanished into the crowd toward a waitress. She was able to regain her composure and calm down once he was out of sight, convinced her act was enough for him not to suspect her plan. Slowly but surely she wiggled the ribbon up to her chest, and without a moment to spare she began furiously nibbling.

Syrahn’s tiny elven teeth were still sharp enough to cut through the silk with relative ease. With a surge of her savage strength she ripped through the remaining threads keeping her bound to the chair, jumped to her feet and looked around for the closest exit. “Hey! HEYYYY!” The guard shouted, clutching a bottle of milk in his hands. “Where do you think you're going?!”

Syrahn’s mind raced while she whipped around and clutched her gown tightly. She wasted no time using her size to her advantage, allowing her to slip into the crowd and disappear under the tide of colorful dresses and nameless faces. He followed in pursuit but it was no use; in his encumbering armor he couldn't keep pace, and her auburn crown of hair dipped between two gowns and vanished like a leaf in the wind.

#dwc2021 #day62021 #ijirothehero #syrahnbloodfeather

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blaxkrosethorn · 3 years

Text

A Rose With Thorns.

Haytham Kenway x OC.

Chapter 1. (Based off of ‘A Christmas Impersonation’ by @ragingbookdragon)

Summary: during a mission with Shay Cormac, French Assassin; Obedience L’Hona meets Grandmaster Haytham Kenway, but before anything happens she has to run.

Warnings: Language, sexual humor, mentions of violence and blood.

Rating: R. (For suggestive themes, Adult like scenes, mentions of loosing ones virginity, gore, smoking, and alcoholism.)

“This…is a bad idea, Shay.” She whimpered, grip on the Irish man’s overcoat deathly tight as she contemplates pulling him back towards the Morrigan. The man simply chuckled at the shorter woman’s antics.

“Relax, lass. We’ve got this, we always do.” He says as he leads her up the stairs. “Seriously, Shay. My nerves are a mess we’re going to fucking get caught.” She exclaims, chocolate brown hues wide with anticipation. “Obbi. Take a breather.” Shay coaxes and she rolls her eyes before doing as she’s told. Once she’s moderately calm, Shay gently guides her the rest of the way up the steps, and presents an invitation to the Red Coat standing guard outside of the mansion’s doors. He smiles at them, but the smile screams ‘I hate myself and I most definitely hate you.’

“Lord and Lady Shamus Williams?” He asked skeptically. “Yes, me and my wife have been traveling, this is our first gathering in about a month.” Shay says smoothly, and the Red Coat nods before smiling at Obedience and allowing the two to glide into the mansion and easily blend in.

As soon as they were out of the Red Coat’s earshot, both breathed sighs of relief. “That was close..” Shay muttered. “I thought you had it..” Obedience glowered. “Irish bastard..” she mutters. “Is this what upper-class parties are like?” Shay mutters.

She huffed. “This place is boring compared to Callaghan’s on a Friday night.”

Shay snorted. “Agreed. It seems the people who govern us little ones don’t know how to party.”

A servant walked passed holding a tray of Champaign. Shay grabbed two, handing one to Obedience. “For you, Lady Williams.”

She took the drink. “Thank you, Lord Williams.” Raising her glass to his, she warned, “Now remember, the whole point of tonight isn’t to get piss drunk. We’re here to—”

She narrowed her gaze as he started drinking. “You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Shay eyed her. “I heard, ‘get piss drunk’, and decided to follow the instructions.”

“You’re a dipshit, Shay.” Obedience griped, taking a sip of her own. Her face scrunched up and she inconspicuously spat the champagne back into the glass. A shiver ran through her and she gagged. “Ugh.”

He chuckled. “It’s surprising that you don’t like that, considering the fact that you drink whiskey.”

She smacked her lips awkwardly, trying to get the taste out of her mouth. “Yeah, but whiskey actually tastes good.” Obedience glared into the shot. “In the wise words of your dearly departed father, this tastes like horse piss.”

At that, Shay had to fake a cough to cover up the bark of laughter. “He would be proud.” And then they lapsed back into silence as they strolled around the venue.

Eventually, they stopped by one of the giant windows, and Obedience took to scrutinizing the men at the party.

A nudge to her side, followed by a whisper caught her attention. “Lady Williams, you’re supposed to be a married woman. Are you searching for a lover?”

Obedience rolled her eyes and looked at him. “Well, someone has to satisfy a woman’s needs and you’re not.”

Shay actually seemed offended by that one, placing a hand to his chest. “That hurt.”

“You’ll live,” she retorted, eyes following the men until she landed on one talking to an older woman. He was handsome, strong facial features, broad shoulders, definitely fit under all those layers, and his eyes. Oh, his eyes were drop dead striking, like gunmetal. And she wanted to know them. Badly.

She tapped repeatedly on Shay’s arm. “That one, I want that one!” She whispers, and Shay directs his eye sight towards the man Obedience had taken a liking to.

“You mean the one that screams I’m a pretentious arsehole with a stick shoved up my arse, that one?” Shay inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah..” Obedience replied hazily, practically drooling at the sight of the dark haired man. Shay sighs at his best friend’s behavior. “I want to climb that man like the village tree..”

At that, Shay gagged. “Gross!”

“Are you kidding me, Shay?” she questioned, nodding at the man who’d begun to look around. “Look at his hands. And his thighs. And his really…firm…body. That is a man who knows what a woman wants and how to give it to her.”

“I’m really glad you’ve finally found someone to break your celibacy vow, but please, please, please, understand that I am not as interested in men as you are.”

Obedience whirled around to face him, humorous glint in her eyes as she challenged him. “From what I’ve seen in Portugal, your a damn liar.” She said, accent getting thicker with every word spoken.

Shay’s already pale white face got even paler, if even possible. “I thought we agreed not to speak of that again!?” Shay scowled, cheeks beginning to redden in embarrassment.

“No,” she begins. “You said never to speak of it again and I nodded.” Obedience says as if it were the most obvious thing. “Exactly, you agreed.” Shay growled lowly. “Shay, you should know by now that I have to give verbal words of agreement, not a small simple nod of my pretty little head.” Obedience smirks, and Shay moves to argue with her when they hear someone clear their throat. Both slap smiles onto their faces and face the person whom demanded their attention, only to find the man Obedience had been previously drooling over.

The man offered a smile. “Good evening.” He greeted.

“Good evening.” Obedience greeted back, Shay quickly following her lead.

“Haytham Kenway, pleased to meet you.” The man introduced himself, and Obedience felt like his steel gray eyes were boring into her brown ones.

“Shay-!” Obedience nudged Shay’s foot. “Shamus Williams, the pleasure is mine. This, is my wife;” Shay says, and Obedience introduces her alias. “Maya Williams, pleasure.” She says, placing her hand in Haytham’s as she expects him to shake it. She’s pleasantly surprised when he raises it to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on her knuckle. “The pleasure is mine.” Haytham says, the undertone of a flirt filling his voice, though his eyes held a pinch of suspicion.

“I’m normally good at recognizing the regulars of a party, but I don’t believe I’ve ever met you two.” Haytham says. “What is it you two do?” He asks.

Shay quickly fills in the metaphorical gap. “We work for a business man, unfortunately he became sick so he gave the invitations to me and my wife to represent him and his wife.” He says, and Haytham quickly nods.

Shay rested his hand in the small of Obedience’s back. She nearly hurled.

“My drink is empty, I’ll be back. Until I get back, why don’t you and Mr. Kenway converse?” Shay asks, smiling at Obedience. She lets out an unladylike snort, raising an eyebrow. “Your glass is full, Shamus.” Obedience says, but Shay quickly downs his glass before handing it to Obedience and sending her a mischievous wink. “Now, it’s empty.” He says and although she grins she lets out a wheeze. “I hate you.” She says, he simply grins and disappears into the crowd. Obedience shakes her head exasperatedly.

Haytham laughs, taking both glasses from Obedience. “I wasn’t—” Obedience begins but Haytham cuts her off. “You didn’t like it anyways.” He says, and she blushes in embarrassment.

“You uh-..” she clears her throat. “You saw that..?” She mutters, looking down bashfully and trying to hide behind her dark black hair.

Haytham chuckles. “Only the ones who were paying attention noticed.” He says, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Paying attention to a married woman?” She teased, giving him a small smirk.

Haytham ignores her question with a small chuckle. “Dance with me?” He asked, holding out an arm. “Mr. Kenway, I really shouldn’t..” Obedience says, trying to keep her act up. “Your not married.” Haytham says, and Obedience feels a bullet of shock rush through her, and she hesitantly places her hand in his.

Haytham pulls Obedience into a dance, but she doesn’t get a chance to enjoy it, a few Redcoats spotting her and beginning to advance.

“That, would unfortunately be my queue to run.” Obedience says before running away from the ballroom, trying to find Shay so they could escape the building.

She checks room after room, finally finding Shay in a large room with a desk. A desk that Shay was perched on, a woman on top of him.

“Shay!” Obedience yells, startling him and the woman. “Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?!” The woman yells at Obedience. “His best friend and the one saving his life, now get lost bitch!” Obedience snarls and the woman quickly dressed before doing so.

Shay quickly dresses himself and they make their way towards the window. “I can’t jump in this damn dress!” Obedience yelps. “Then cut it off if you can’t undo the lacings, woman!” Shay says, opening the window. “I can’t reach my damn knife!” She yelps, and Shay rolls his eyes before dropping to his knees in front of her, and reaching his hand up her dress.

“Don’t you dare get any funny ideas, Cormac!” Obedience growls lowly. “Wouldn’t be the first time, lass.” Shay jokes, earning a smack to the back of his head. He’s just about to grasp the handle of her knife when the door to the room is thrown open, revealing Haytham.

“I swear to God this is not what it looks like..” Obedience swears, growling at a frozen in place Shay. “You sure?” Haytham asks amusedly. “Quite.” Obedience says. Shay gets the hint and backs away. “I almost had your knife, until stick-arse showed up.” Shay growled, approaching the window. “Here,” Haytham says, cutting the lace in the back of Obedience’s dress. The dress itself falls to her ankles, leaving her in her corset and a black and blue skirt that went to her knees.

Shay jumped and Obedience turned to Haytham. She grabbed him by the neck and tugged him down to her level, kissing him passionately. He just barely got to kiss back before she pulled away and climbed the window sill, winking at him. “Later, Haytham.”

And then, both her and Shay were gone.

#ac3 #haytham kenway #oc #shay patrick cormac

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

Note

What do you think the Animorphs would be like playing D&D? Not "the Animorphs in a D&D world", but the Animorphs actually sitting down and having a campaign of D&D. Like the classes/races they'd pick, their play styles, wacky shenanigans (because we all know it would happen).

[Credit to Cates for 100% of the character builds, and most of the lore, in this AU. In case you were wondering, I’m the Jake-style “never read the manual” chaotic-dumbass bard of our campaign; she’s the Marco-style “uses the rules exactly as much or little as needed” DM.]

It was decided almost right away that one on the team had any alignment. As DM, Marco attempted to start there, only to have Ax begin questioning whether the manual’s explanations of “good” and “evil” truly captured human ethics on a grand scale. Tobias claimed that Ax was looking at it all wrong, that the moralities were only default behavior types within the game, and that within this particular context morality didn’t matter. Cassie got very concerned about the idea of context-dependent morality, Rachel declared that the book was stupid and short-sighted for claiming that destroying things was always bad, Jake quietly asked for the fourth or fifth time if this game was actually a good idea…

“Fine!” Marco announced. “You’re all amoral characters. Happy?”

“‘Amoral’ implies that we’re immoral, doesn’t it?” Cassie asked. “Or that we exist outside the spectrum of moralities?”

“Just…” Marco rolled his eyes. “Everyone leave that spot on your character sheet blank, okay? If it ever comes up, we’ll deal with it on a case-by-case basis.”

“Yes,” Ax said, “although you never did answer my question about the implied ethical structure of this universe.”

After that, character creation went fairly smoothly. Kind of.

“Why does Dennis need a backstory, again?” Jake asked, looking down at his sheet.

“Dennis?” Marco said. “Dennis?

“You already said I wasn’t allowed to use ‘Dylan’ or ‘Brad’, so…’”

“C’mon man, this is D’nD. There are no Dennises in medieval fantasy epics.”

“Fine.” Jake crossed out and rewrote the name at the top of his character sheet. “Why does Keith need a backstory?”

“To explain his motivation.”

“You just said that the whole time we’re going to be chased around by orcs and whatnot. Isn’t not dying enough motivation?”

“You really don’t understand this game, do you?” Rachel said.

“I really don’t understand this game,” Jake agreed.

“My character’s a dragonborn rogue named Joan, and she’s the greatest gymnast of all time.” Rachel added a Dexterity marker to her sheet with a flourish.

“I thought I was a dragonborn,” Jake said. “Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, we can have as many dragonborns as you all want.” Marco shrugged. “We just can’t have multiple bards. And since you called dibs on that class, and Rachel wants to be a rogue, we’re fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jake said. “I just want to help out the team. Or, uh, Keith does?”

“Great.”

“So that’s my backstory, right? Being a bard?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, at the same time Marco said, “No!”

In the end, Marco declared that if neither Rachel nor Jake could come up with a proper backstory, he was making their characters cousins. Tobias, who had a better flair for the romantic, declared that said cousins were from an internationally feared family of highwaymen.

“So does that get us any extra skills, coming from a family of pirates?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe it’d explain how good your character is at gymnastics,” Jake said. “Because of riggings and all.”

“Highwaymen.” Marco looked up from where he was trying to salvage Keith’s stats from the hopeless tangle of Jake’s incorrect math. “Tobias said you guys are highwaymen, not pirates.”

“What are pirates but highwaymen of the sea?” Tobias asked, tilting his head in thought.

“Just put us down as jewel thieves.” Rachel made a note on her own sheet. “Jewel thieves of diverse methodology. Wherever jewels can be found, there we are with threats of violence to take them away.”

“By the way, why is Ax now a tiefling?” Tobias asked Marco.

“I told Marco I have no preference for my class and race,” Ax said. “And the word is most pleasant, tea-fling. Ffflllling.”

“They’re blue and have tails.” Marco smirked at Tobias. “It’s perfect!”

Rachel and Jake might’ve been vague on the idea of backstory, but Ax was quite definite.

“I am Eldrias the tiefling, fffflllling, paladin. She was raised by cows,” he announced.

“Don’t you mean raised by wolves?” Jake said. “Isn’t that a thing, raised by wolves?”

“Uh-huh,” Marco said, “since your land-pirates make perfect sense.”

“Wolves are beautiful animals, but they pale in comparison to cows,” Ax said. “Among other things, wolves’ meat is not so succulent and does not pair nearly as well with french fries.”

“Okay then,” Jake said, “raised by cows. Got it.”

Becoming a barbarian was Cassie’s idea. She spun through the manual in a rapid burst of pages, brushing gentle fingertips over the beautifully rendered illustrations, and then pressed it shut. “Barbarian,” she said. “That’s the one that can protect the team the best, right? So I’ll be a barbarian.”

Marco laughed. “All right then. Barbarian it is. Anything else in mind, for this barbarian of yours?”

Cassie tapped a finger against her lower lip, fluttering through the first several pages of the manual once again. “I could make my character a big, tall guy, right?”

“Sure.”

“But I want pointy ears.” She grinned at the rest of the table, somewhat sheepish.

“Half-elf barbarian, then?”

“Half-elf barbarian.” Cassie looked down at the sheet in front of her. “He can be named Reisgalan Von Schwartzel of the Morsgalath Half-Elves, Lord of the Plains and Wielder of…” She glanced around. “What’s that thing with the spiky ball on a stick?”

“Mace,” Rachel provided.

“Mace is that spray you use on bears and muggers,” Jake said.

“And it’s also a spiky ball on a stick.” Marco glanced at Cassie’s sheet. “You have a backstory for Reisgalan Von Whatshisface?”

“Hmmmm. Can I be widowed and have a tragically dead prince I must avenge?”

“Is it me?” Jake smiled hopefully.

“What?” Cassie frowned at him. “No. That’d be horrible.” She looked over at Marco. “Uh, can my character be a guy and also have a dead husband? Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, sure,” Marco said. “I’m the ruler of this universe, so I say it’s fine. And Tobias is the designated rules lawyer, so he’ll probably have some reason that it’s not.”

“I am not rules-lawyering!”

Marco looked at Ax’s character sheet, and then pointedly back up at Tobias. “Ax, how did you end up as not just a paladin, but a paladin that’s even more overpowered than the standard build?”

“Paladins are allowed.” Tobias shrugged. “It’s right there in the manual.”

“Ax, how you have splint armor?” Marco demanded.

“Paladins can wear Heavy armor,” Tobias sing-songed.

Marco growled.

Ax squinted at his character sheet. “Tobias says when I get to Level Three, I will take the Oath of Vengeance and take a Vow of Enmity. I will know the spells Thunderous Smite, Command, and Detect Magic.”

Marco’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.

“Oh, and Eldrias the paladin is taking Great Weapon as her Fighting Style.” Tobias wasn’t bothering to hide his smirk. “It’s all perfectly legal.”

Ax frowned at Marco. “Banging your head against the table with that level of force may have an adverse effect on your brain’s ability to function.”

“I’m not rules-lawyering for selfish gain,” Tobias said loftily, looking over Marco’s prone form. “And besides, Ax is new at this. He needs all the help he can get.”

“You find yourselves in a magical land.” Marco made a wild gesture in the air. It was probably meant to look dramatic and mysterious. “A land known as Falicornia.”

“Marco sucks at naming things,” Rachel whispered loudly.

“Rachel sucks at listening,” Marco whispered more loudly.

“You were saying?” Jake asked.

“This magical land is under threat from the dread god Cthulu! You must stop him through using the Philosopher’s Stone, which is powerful but cannot be used except by those who do not wish to use it. It contains many powerful temptations for the bearer. You must journey across the land, facing many dangers, to bring it to the only magical mirror that can destroy it before Cthulu has the chance to rise from that mirror and take over the world.”

Cassie raised her hand.

“Yes?” Marco said.

“Why does Cthulu want to take over the world?” she asked. “Does he need it for something?”

Marco sighed. “He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu. Any other questions?”

“First question: did you steal more of this plot from The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter?” Rachel said immediately. “Second question—” She turned to Ax. “Have we showed you those movies?”

“He’s reading the books first,” Tobias said.

“I’m reading the books first,” Ax agreed.

“You were saying about Cthulu,” Jake said to Marco.

“Yes. He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu,” Marco glared at Rachel. “Just because.“

“Actually,” Tobias said, “the original version of Cthulu was kind of like the Silver Surfer of Norse Mythology, and his motivation—”

“He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu.” Marco took a deep breath. “Anyway. Moving on.”

“Okay, you’re here.” Marco pointed to the G.I. Joe figure sitting in the middle of their somewhat crudely drawn map. “The goblins are…” One after another, he set four white pawns from his mom’s chess set around the G.I. Joe that represented Jake, forming a half-circle that separated him from Ax’s Smurf, Cassie’s My Little Pony miniature, and Tobias’s Precious Moments angel figurine. “Rachel is, uh…” He set the teddy bear pencil topper several inches back, between two goblin-pawns. “There. So.” Marco looked up at Jake. “You’re under attack. You’re up first in initiative order. What’re you going to do?”

Jake frowned, surveying the scene in front of him. “I have magic, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, so I’ll use magic to turn myself into a bird, and then—”

“Yeah, no.”

“Then I’ll turn my teammates into birds, and they can—”

“You cannot turn yourself into a bird, you cannot turn anyone else into a bird, no one is turning into a bird or any other animal at any point in this game.” Marco glanced over at Tobias. “No offense.”

“Oh, I totally agree,” Tobias said. “A Level One bard performing an animal shapes transmutation? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Anyway.” Marco pointed at Jake’s G.I. Joe figurine. “Assuming we’re sticking to handheld weapons, what else do you want to do?”

“I… shoot the goblin?” Jake suggested. “With my…” He flipped over his character sheet, squinting at his own handwriting. “With my board-sword.”

“Pretty sure you meant ‘broadsword,’” Rachel said. “Okay, Jake killed the goblin, now what?”

Cassie peered over Jake’s shoulder. “It could just be a sword made out of boards, you don’t know.”

“Jake only has thirteen out of sixty odds of killing the goblin on one go,” Marco said.

Tobias flipped open his own manual to the entry on goblins. “Where are you getting these numbers from?”

Marco selected two dice from the pile, handing them both to Jake. “Oh, I just figure that if the goblin’s got an armor class of seven and five HP, then Jake’s got a thirteen-in-twenty chance of scoring a hit and then a two-in-six chance of it being deadly, given his hit dice. So if you reduce twenty-six over one-twenty down it’s thirteen in sixty. Like, point-two-one-seven out of one. Simple math.” He gestured at Jake. “Roll those.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘simple.’” Jake looked up. “Uh, ten and the other one says four?”

“You grievously injured but did not kill the goblin,” Marco said graciously. “Now it’s the turn for this leftmost goblin, who is going to run and stick a sword through Rachel…” He rolled, and winced. “That’s fifteen to hit, and two damage?”

“What’s that mean for my little rogue?” Rachel waved her pencil topper at him.

“You got stabbed,” Marco said.

“Uh-huh.” Rachel picked up her pen and sheet. “Where?”

Marco shrugged. “The leg, let’s say. Uh, upper thigh?”

“Mm-hmm.” She wrote that down.

“Okay, then.” Marco glanced at his sheet. “Next in initiative order is—”

“I cast psionic blast as a Level One spell, which would cause additional damage to fiends or the undead. Are they undead goblins?” Tobias asked.

Marco rolled his eyes. “Nope.”

“Then they each suffer three points of damage and do not have the opportunity to make saving throws for the next minute and a half,” Tobias said. “That’s my first spell slot today.”

“Okay.” Marco tipped over one of the goblin pawns. “That one’s dead. Cassie?”

“That one’s threatening Ax?” She pointed at the pawn within the same square as the Smurf figurine.

“Yep.”

She nodded. “Then I smash its head in with my mace.” She rolled. “Eight to hit, eight damage?”

“Oh yeah, you just annihilated that one.”

“Good, good, so now can I mace the one that attacked Rachel?”

“Cool your jets.” Marco held up both hands. “You don’t get to do multiple hulk-smashes in one round until several levels up from here.”

Cassie wilted a little. “Okay. But I want to run over next to that one to be ready to mace it soon.”

“All right, center goblin is going to try and swing his big old greatsword at Cassie as an attack of opportunity…” Marco rolled. “And that’s a miss. Rachel, you’re up.”

“I’m unconscious,” Rachel said.

Marco gave her a blank look. “No you’re not.”

“Yes she is,” Ax said. “You just allowed that goblin— gob-blin? Goo-blin? —to stab her.”

“I did not allow— The dice—” Marco took a deep breath. “Rachel, you only took two points of damage. Go ahead and make a turn.”

“Okay, you clearly said…” Rachel glanced at her own notes. “That the goblin stuck its sword through my upper thigh. And apparently these are pretty big swords. No way in hell that misses the artery, not if I’m only about human-sized at the time. You also said that the goblin has its sword back, which means it pulled the sword out, which means that by now I have definitely lost enough blood to be unconscious. It’s just basic logic.”

Marco opened his mouth halfway. “That’s not how damage functions in this game,” he said at last.

“No, she’s right,” Jake said. “She wouldn’t necessarily be dead from blood loss by now, but on the super-narrow chance she’s still conscious, she’s not going to have the, like, grip strength to be shooting people with arrows or anything. That’s just how getting stabbed works.”

“Actually…” Tobias looked up from where he was sorting his flash cards of wizard spells. “In combat time, each turn is six seconds. So it hasn’t been five minutes of game-time. It’s been less than three seconds.”

“So this goblin managed to stick its sword all the way through me, pull it loose, and then get back into position to make a different attack in less than a second?” Rachel said. “And I don’t need to take a second or two to react to having been stabbed?”

“Yes!” Tobias said.

“This game is not closely aligned with the timing and functions of real combat,” Ax pointed out.

Marco let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a shriek. “No shit, Sherlock! Can we please just play by the rules?”

“I’m just saying it’s not realistic,” Rachel muttered. “You get run through the leg with a sword, you bleed to death. That’s how it goes.”

“Would you please shoot someone already?” Marco said.

“If you insist.”

At Level Two, Tobias’s gnome wizard joined the School of Divination for exactly one game. “He’s rules-lawyering things that haven’t even happened yet,” Marco cried, throwing out his hands like this was the greatest injustice ever visited upon humanity. At which point Tobias decided that discretion was the better part of valor and switched to the School of Evocation. Marco’s eye stopped twitching.

“No, no, no.” Marco leaned over to look at Jake’s roll. “You add your charisma modifier to your attack roll, and then your strength modifier to your damage roll.”

“So he adds twelve to his roll?” Cassie looked at her own sheet. “I add seventeen to my roll?”

“Modifier. Not the whole stat. Mod-if-i-er.” Marco groaned loudly. “Is Tobias the only one who even tried to read the manual?”

“C’mon, man.” Jake shrugged, grinning. “When have you ever known me to do the assigned reading?”

“I have Tobias here to summarize the manual for me,” Rachel pointed out. “Why bother?”

“I did attempt to read the manual. Man. Well. It was not the most boring human book ever written, but it was very repetitive.” Ax glanced around at all of them. “Not to say that all human books are bad, even if they are all repetitive,” he added quickly. “Take the books of Harry Potter, which are acceptable in addition to being repetitive.”

“‘Acceptable’?” Tobias shook his head. “‘Repetitive’? You, sir, are wounding my entire species — one of my species — Just don’t diss the Potter.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ professor,” Ax intoned.

Laughing, Tobias leaned over to bump their shoulders together. “I take it back. I love you, Ax-man. Never change.”

“Anyway,” Cassie said, “we elected Tobias party leader, so he’s the only one who really needs to know how to play, right?”

“‘Elected’ is a pretty strong word for it. The way I remember it, I was like…” Marco put on a deeper voice, “‘Who wants to be party leader?’ and Jake yelled ‘NOT IT’ so loud that he probably startled pigeons in the next county over. And then Tobias was the first one to recover from the shock long enough to volunteer.”

“I didn’t yell it, I said it,” Jake mumbled. “Said it enthusiastically.”

“And you’re wrong. We did nose-goes.” Rachel tapped her own nose to demonstrate. “Tobias lost.”

Ax’s eyes widened. “So you and Cassie covering your noses was a primitive selection procedure in the manner of duck-duck-goose? I thought we were all simply being polite by hiding our hideous human orifices from one another.”

“Anyway,” Tobias said, “as party leader, I’m declaring that we can whine about noses — and bipedalism — at a later time. For now, let’s play.”

“Ah, yes.” Ax looked down at the dice, and then back up at Marco. “Who was attacking whom, again?”

Marco stared around the board, and then back at the dice. “Like I remember that now!”

It was a small miracle that they all kept showing up after that first week. Tobias and Marco were the only ones with both the skill and the enthusiasm to be any good at the game. Cassie and Rachel lacked the necessary motivation: Cassie tended to get lost in long conversations with NPCs and never advanced the plot at all, whereas Rachel was likely to start climbing the walls with impatience after half an hour of sitting still. Ax and Jake were both reasonably enthusiastic but terrible: Jake paid no attention at all to the math, and Ax paid too much. They had one set of dice between the six of them, if one was generous and called rolling a d6 twice the same as rolling a d12. (It wasn’t, but Marco’s and Ax’s attempts to explain this always made everyone else’s eyes glaze over.)

Seriously, though, Marco knew perfectly well why they kept showing up. And it had nothing to do with everyone getting on board with Tobias’s super-geeky idea. They’d tried Dungeons and Dragons, and they hadn’t actually started liking it.

It had nothing to do with the storyline. Or the dice. Or the characters. They weren’t here for swords or goblins. They didn’t drop everything to spend four hours a week in each other’s company because they liked the game.

Duh.

Of course, even their love for each other could be tested, at times, by their sheer incompetence as players.

“We’re still in the undercave?” Jake groaned, looking at the game board. “We’ve been down here for like six weeks!”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re stuck.” Rachel glared around the table. “Because we keep trying to fight the ooze monster and then almost dying. Because we suck at this game.”

“Still say there should’ve been illithids,” Tobias muttered. “We’re in the cave of the illithids, but instead we’ve got apocalyptic ooze where there isn’t supposed to be any. That’s why we’re stuck.”

Marco sighed into his hands. “For the last time, man, we’re not having any stupid mind flayers in this game. There is a way out, I promise you, if you guys would just stop and figure it out.”

“I stab the ooze?” Cassie suggested.

“You take fourteen acid damage and permanently blunt your sword.” Marco didn’t bother to look up. “Just like last time.”

“Ugh.” Cassie wrote down her new HP. “At least I ruled out repeated stabbing as a way out?”

“Okay, okay.” Jake stared at the game board, yet again failing to take the this map not to scale memo. “We can figure this out. Is it a cave kind of like those caves under Leeran?”

Marco lifted his head, tossing his hair out of his face. “I got schlooped back to Earth before you guys got to see those, remember?”

“They were very beautiful,” Ax said, “and also full of toxic eels. So perhaps Prince Jake’s comparison is apt.”

“The real toxic eel is the friends we made along the way.” Rachel tilted her chair back, picking at her manicure. “Think we should just call it a day?”

“No, no, Jake’s right.” Cassie stared at the board. “I believe in us.”

“It was kinda cool in the Leeran caves, so sorry you missed it,” Jake said to Marco. “I was dead and missed the Battle of Trafalgar, though, so it all balances out?”

“The Battle of Trafalgar was not cool at all.” Marco rolled his eyes. “It was a battle. It was gross and loud and bloody. Is no one going to try anything else?”

“I pull out my rope and my flint, I set the rope on fire, we all die of smoke inhalation,” Rachel drawled. “There, I got us out of the cave.”

“And into the afterlife,” Ax said solemnly. “If, indeed, this game has an afterlife. It was designed by humans, so I assume… Soom. That it must.”

“Look, if we could just fight the mind flayer instead,” Tobias said, “there are clear strategies in place for how to fend off psychic attacks, and even if a few of us end up as mind-witnesses we could still use a handful of different spells—” He swung his copy of the manual around to face Marco, pointing to a spot low on the open page. “If you’ll just look at what the book says…”

Marco slammed the book shut, hard.

Tobias had to yank his hand back to avoid smashed fingers. “Watch it!” he snapped.

“Guys,” Jake said. “Let’s—”

“Rule. Zero.” Marco flattened a hand on top of the closed book. “I’m the DM here, and I get to say that there are no mind flayers and definitely no mind witnesses, because I say so. I’m the Ellimist of this little universe, and you don’t get a counter-argument.”

Rachel snorted loudly. “Bad comparison. Tobias argues with the real Ellimist all the time.”

“Only when he’s doing something stupid.” Tobias was looking at Marco, not at her. “Or breaking the rules of his own game.”

“Tobias…” Jake inhaled slowly, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a game, okay? Marco… We are kinda stuck, dude, no offense. Couldn’t we at least try to fight whatever it is Tobias wants, see if that gets us out of here?”

Marco pushed to his feet, face flushed. “I’m running this game, because you people decided I should. And I don’t give a fuck how much Bird-Boy complains, this game is not going to involve anyone getting psychically mind-controlled. It will not feature alien tadpoles that crawl inside people’s brains and take over their bodies.” He swept a hand across the board. “There will be no illithids, there will be no brain golems, there will be no controllers—”

Marco snapped his mouth shut.

There was a long silence. Tobias stared at the floor.

“Mind-witnesses,” Marco said at last. “I meant mind-witnesses.”

THUNK.

Figurines and dice scattered everywhere. The play-dough lump of ooze flattened underneath the second game board Cassie had just dropped on top of the first.

“Anyway,” she said, giving everyone an embarrassed smile. “How about we switch to Monopoly for a while?”

“I call being the little dog piece,” Rachel said, pulling the box open.

“I’m sorry,” Tobias whispered to Marco, as Ax began clattering through the pieces and asking Jake questions. “I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah.” Marco pulled the bank toward him and counting out notes. “Same here, man. Uh, y’know. Sorry I…”

“We’re cool. We’re cool?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Does this highly successful roll mean I have first chance to stab Income Tax with my—” Ax squinted at his game piece “—car? So I’ll be attempting to inflict damage on Income Tax by running it over?”

“Many have tried that strategy,” Rachel intoned. “None have succeeded so far.”

“You know that your beloved manual lists exactly the same stats for hawks, eagles, and owls, right?” Marco asked, grinning evilly.

“What? No.” Tobias frantically flipped toward the back of the book.

“Anyway, is he right?” Cassie asked as Tobias searched. “Are we all supposed to be dead right now?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Marco said. “Yes, the explosion would have done a lot of damage to all of you—”

“Thanks, Jake,” Rachel snarked.

Jake sighed loudly. “How was I supposed to know you had to throw the hand grenade after you pulled the pin?”

“You mean the part where Ax and Tobias were both yelling ‘toss it, toss it,’ and you were like ‘no, I’m gonna do an investigation check first’?” she said. “And then we all died?”

“Actually, I believe Cassie was raging at the time when the ceiling fell on us all,” Ax said. “Therefore, her damage would be halved.”

“Hell yeah!” Cassie laughed. “So it’s just…” She peered at Marco’s roll and winced. “Everyone else… in the entire party… who automatically failed a death check. Right, Tobias?”

“No,” Marco said loudly, “because Jake cast Teleportation Circle and got you all out of there before the ceiling fell.”

“But Tobias believes that that would be allowing too many actions on a single turn. Uurn. Earn,” Ax said. “And that Jake wouldn’t have time to set up the circle even if he did have a bonus action left.”

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to end on a total party kill?” Marco demanded.

Rachel smiled sweetly. “It’s not a TPK if Cassie’s still alive.”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Oh, in that case—”

“Oh my god, you’re right!” Tobias sounded outraged.

“Am I dead?” Rachel pouted. “Just when this stupid game was starting to grow on me.”

“No, not that.” Tobias stabbed a finger on the page. “It says right here. ‘For hawk, see: eagle.’ It fucking classifies hawks as a fucking subspecies of eagle!”

“What were you just saying about us following the manual at the expense of our lives?” Marco said smugly.

Tobias stared in betrayed horror at the page for another second. And then he tossed the entire book clear over his shoulder and out of the room. It clattered loudly in the hall.

“So as I was saying, Jake cast Teleportation Circle,” Marco said. “And teleported you all out of there.”

“So we’re… not dead?” Cassie asked.

“Given the nature of teleportation, perhaps we are both dead and not, existing in the gap between states,” Ax said. “Like when our consciousness was trapped in z-space, and yet our matter remained on Earth. Or we exist in multiple universes at once, some in which we have died and some in which we yet live.”

“Yeah, cool, Schrödinger’s party,” Rachel said. “Blah, blah. Anyway, I’m gonna punch Jake in the arm for being a dumbass. In-game and out-of-game.”

“Good luck with that.” Marco cackled his evil DM cackle. “The only universe I care about is the one where the whole lot of you give me an initiative roll. Because I didn’t say Jake teleported you to a safe location, just a different one.”

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the-unaligned-player · 3 years

Text

New World of Darkness XY Splat AU Dream SMP Most Fitting Splat.

Dream: Dethroned Grace of Heart

He existed as the effective ruler of the lands settling disputes and fostering community in his land. He then had his life, history, and belief systematically torn apart followed by his nakama turning on him. Now he is a corruptive creature of despair that only exists to spread the misery that is his life to everyone around him. Learn from the mistakes that caused him else ye be doomed to repeat it, and end his suffering for there is no kindness that can ever reach the thrice burned.

Tommy: Gangrel Carthian

A somewhat domesticated but still very feral animal that as of recently seems to genuinely be trying to be a better person. Not prone to thinking things through, still goes by his heart but said heart seems more tempered. Would still fistfight god because he exists though, as long as he never truly breaks ‘rebellion for rebellions sake’ will always be a part of him. Would like for him to continue to improve.

Punz: Torn Bonepicker

If the betrayal was true this man is a true Viceful Bonepicker. A man endlessly grabbing at the wealth in front of him despite the fact that he already had more than enough secured. Now he is claimed by that rusted iron moss. I’d feel bad for him but it doesn’t seemed to have changed him much.

Schlatt: Daeva Invictus

A unsubtle tyrant who endlessly indulged in deeper and further into vices in a desperate bid to feel alive again while hurting everyone around him with his flexes of power, one whose final death was celebrated by everyone. A perfect fit for the Tempting Tyrants. Smart enough to want to stay dead.

Wilbur: Ventrue Invictus Masquerading as a Carthian

A man who started a country in a bid for power disguised as freedom. Desperate for control and importance, once deposed he swiftly spiraled out of control losing all grip on his touchstones and required final death as it was the only kindness that could be given to one so wracked with derangement as to appear Malkovian. Dumb enough to want to come back.

Tubbo: Fairest Dawn Courtsman

A doll, played with and treasured by everyone as one does a toy. Voice silent and never heard when that vow is broken. Both inaction and action have hurt those they care about and his grasp on reality has been slipping ever since. Loves, loves so so much but the love returned always leaves him feeling hollow and used when alone so he clings to anyone who will. A self perpetuating behavior but such is the pattern taught by the addicting Durances of The Fairest. Still, that earnest belief that things can get better can always bring a smile to the faces of those willing to listen.

Ranboo: Hollow Mekhet Ordo Dracul (VII?)

A supernatural creature of shadow with a part of himself that may be working for the antagonist, desperate to understand his condition and overcome it? It’s like this Splat was made for him. :)

The Unaligned Player: Dethroned Seeker of Diamonds

I desire to understand the world around me and it’s inhabitants, a desire born from the wish to spread knowledge to other that they may make fully informed decisions. As for the Dethroned part, ~I have crippling depression~, am innately evil, and have utterly wrecked my emotions in the process of staying sane and alive so despair, hate, fear, and general suffering have just become a part of me leaving me with an even more alien perspective than I should possess. If you end my suffering and there’s an afterwards I’ll thank you but I’ll fight you because I haven’t done enough for murder to be the solution yet.

Technoblade: Avenger (Unusually stable)

A man of rage and vengeance, laser focused on tyranny as the subject of his ire. He does not forgive, he does not forget, his hatred does not cease. Even after the sun has burned out there he will stand, cremating and destroying all tyranny he can find. Despite all of this, he is no monster, no beast to be murdered and corpse to be mounted or harvested. He is a man, empowered only by his devotion such that one could mistake him for a paladin and not be inaccurate.

Karl: Acanthus Guardian with a Minor in Scelesti

The man who travels through the thornbush of time, losing bits and pieces of himself along the way. He accepts the price and accepts the burden, knowing that every step he takes through the hedges could be his last, that every decision he makes has consequences far beyond him. The sights he beholds and the things he does are burned into his soul, but if it keeps everyone else alive, he’ll gladly give up all that makes him him.

Captain Puffy: Yuri’s Group

A mortal woman that makes the attempt to take care of and protect the souls of beings far greater than her. Doubles duty as one who actively attempts to prevent those that would hurt her charges from doing so. Maternal and caring, with the appropriate amount of badassery required to live in a World of Darkness with her chosen profession, I’d think of no better splat for the therapist knight than as a Hunter of Yuri’s Group.

Quackity: Mastigos Hegemon with a minor in Scelesti.

A man of words with no true bones for the physical matters in backing up his talk. Always vying for some semblance of power, making grandiose yet simultaneously dull plans and schemes that inevitably bite him in the ass. Standing for nothing but himself he does his best to make others stand below him, always clinging to hierarchy for protection and influence and inevitably dividing his faction into rats snapping at eachother and crabs keeping eachother trapped in a bucket. Poor Starscream, always a joke, always dissatisfied.

Ranbob: Obrimos Paternoster with a major in Scelesti

A lass who looked upon the quartz mask of our favorite despairing blob, and saw God. Fueled by their quiet zealotry, this humble bookkeeper saw fit to burn away the world that reviled them for their faith. Death to all who come to their temple of worship, for none would accept the one who worships the God who is as a Devil.

Awesamdude: Talassii Nemeses

A icon of fear that promotes the fear and suffering of their victim brought about by binding entrapment and confinement in response to transgression. An Iron Maiden, a burning cross, the c4 strapped to your chest, and a bear trap. The embodiment of Law as Punishment and the man who will bring the hammer down if you make a mockery of his domain.

Sapnap: Hero

The glory seeker, the tragedy, the Hero of their story. Desperate for a sense of some importance they turned to a universal icon of praise: Slaying monsters. Setting themselves up as the tragic hero who must put down their wayward friend, they make a mockery of history and hype themselves up far too much for how important they are. Claiming possession and protagonism of a story that was never truly theirs, no happy ending awaits them in the end. A fitting fate for a Hero.

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likesomekindofcheese · 4 years

Text

Promised Part Four (The Great Arranged Marriage AU mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem! Reader

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: swearing, food, dogs, marriage, and mentions of sex and some steamier parts

Summary: When Emperor Peter visited your family, his behavior threatened the peaceful alliance between them and Russia. Now in order to fix it, you are betrothed to marry his best friend, the handsome and heartbroken Grigor.

Part One --- Part Two -- Part Three

The morning after the wedding there was a sealed letter placed on your mother’s table. She nearly dropped it in nervousness.

Something had happened. Something had already happened. The alliance may even be in danger and so was she. Everything was too new now. The blue bed that you slept on in the other room was now empty. Even little Sonya’s trotting and barking was gone as well. She had to face the morning alone. And you, her daughter, her dear child, was now a married woman.

She ripped it open to read the contents with wide eyes.

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Emperor Peter was about to take his morning as usual- sleeping in late. As was typical for a hangover. Peter laid out on his belly like a starfish, still in his clothes. Georgiana smirked as she entered the chambers. She heard him groaning even in his dreams. Already in her dark robes and nothing else on, she knew he would be groaning for different reasons in perhaps an hour. She knew that after a night of celebration Peter would call on her one way or another to cure the headache he had with her kisses. She might as well be ready. There were worse ways to start the day.

Her eyes trailed down to a sealed letter on the table on the other end.

It was Grigor’s seal.

Before she could stop herself, Georgiana grabbed a small letter opener and cut it open. She read its contents.

It was short. But enough. She put it down, sitting on the chair and taking in a deep breath. Her lovely ivory face turning red. Tears blurring her eyes as she breathed in the message it contained. As she sat down, she let the waves of grief flow out of her, glad that the emperor was too deep asleep to see it.

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Your brother and his wife were late risers. So, they were confused by the excited knocking on the doors of their salon while the sky was still pink.

The lodgings given to them were surprisingly beautiful. Large, plush beds that were the color of cream, vases full of roses, and purple canopies over their heads as they slept. And all expenses covered. Your brother gently padded his wife’s shoulder as she groaned at the sound.

“I’ll get it…”

“Thank god for this bed…” she nestled into the pillow to fall back asleep.

Your brother yawned and crawled out. He smiled and kissed his wife and she smiled before she returned to dreaming. His eyes were crusted with sleep as the door cracked open but shot awake at the sight of your father.

“Wha…what is it?” he asked.

“I have a letter…it’s from Grigor, Y/N’s husband.”

He tilted his head in astonishment.

“Already? Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know yet…I thought we both should find out…” he commented nervously. “’Sides, my eyes are bad. Can’t read a thing on it.”

Your father handed it to him, and your brother read it out loud.

“To the Y/L/N Family,

Last night under the sight of God, Y/F/N and I consummated our marriage.

The alliance is now completely secure and may nothing hinder it with our union. You may rest assured everything is now safe. Madame Y/L/N and the Emperor know of this as well.

Your Son-in-law, as of yesterday,

Grigor Dymov.”

Your father and brother let out a deep breath. Yet there was a knowing look between them. Your brother looked again at the letter.

“And…she’s his! I can hardly believe it…I barely even know the man myself!” your brother said.

“Well, it’s secure…it’s completely secure…our alliance with Russia is safe.”

As your brother returned to bed, worried thoughts entered his head. Grigor had a bit of vodka and was putting you on his lap and kissing you a lot. You looked so so timid with him. Not to mention Peter. If this man was close friends with Peter then that said enough. Your voice was trembling when you said your vows. You would only speak softly. And you only knew Grigor for so long. The moments before you were led to Grigor’s chambers you looked like a lamb led to the slaughter. And he could do nothing about it.

This alliance came at the price of your torture.

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As you put the envelope into the pocked of you gown, you heard a familiar yap.

Sonya trotted over. With her ears down, she wagged her tail and reached up for you on the skirt of your robe as far up as she could.

“Hello love…do you like the place?” you asked.

She placed her paws on your skirt as you gentle petted her head.

“Shhhh, be quiet. Please don’t wake pa…him…” you whispered.

Was Grigor now her papa? It felt odd to call him that yet.

Who knew when he would awaken, so you wandered through your new apartment. It was large- three rooms, all with large red walls. You especially liked the outer receiving room with a large, dark fireplace and a nice little brown table with two chairs. There was a tea set properly placed there. Sunlight was pouring in and you heard the chirps of a few robins. The redness looked less frightening. The bathtub gleamed when there was sunlight against it.

Quietly you placed Sonya into your arms and scratched her fur as you admired a few portraits on the wall of the guest room. Eventually she wiggled hard and freed herself onto the floor, shaking in a flurry and then prancing to sniff the place more.

You scurried back into the bedroom. It felt bad to leave Grigor alone once he awoke the morning after your wedding. Especially when you recalled what he said last night.

I used to wake up in the mornings and hate it…because I would be alone…

You poured yourself a cup of the coffee, relieved that it was still steaming hot. This Liza or Beth or whoever timed her gift right. You sipped on it and let Sonya wander by your feet. Whenever she trotted over to the bed, you would shoo her away. You would scold her for yapping, placing a gentle hand over her mouth and saying firmly “no bark…no bark…”

After a few minutes passed, his eyes opened. He groaned as he woke up. His hand began searching your side of the bed.

Breathing in quickly, you walked forward on cue.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry…I…” you mumbled.

“Nothing, nothing…did you sleep in? You’re not tired, are you?” he asked groggily.

“I…I woke up a little bit ago…” you answered. “I managed to fall back asleep. I think it’s late morning.”

“That’s good.” He said.

Placing yourself on the edge of the bed, you weren’t sure if you wanted to kiss his forehead or take his hand. You weren’t sure what quite to do at this stage.

“We have a…a gift for us…someone sent us a tray…”

He got up. You were still unused to the sight of his body now in only a simple shift. You looked at the floor. You saw his breeches were still on the floor abandoned. Noticing a black robe over one of the chairs, you went over and got it.

“Is…is this yours?”

“Yes, it is.”

Fetching it, you returned to his side of the bed. Standing on your toes to reach his tall height, you placed it over his shoulders and he slipped his arms through.

“Th-thank you, you’re very kind, Y/N. What are the pastries like?” he asked.

“I…I haven’t tried any of them yet…” you confessed.

“How come?”

“I…I wanted to wait for you…so we could eat them together…” you admitted.

He grinned as he joined you to try the tray. Pulling up the card, he let out a huff of laughter.

“Huh, already she calls us our aunt.”

“Is she your aunt?”

“No, Peters.”

“Oh.”

He smiled. You smiled back. As he sat down and began to eat a strawberry flavored one you noticed a slightly wicked gleam. You looked back and picked a chocolate pastry, biting into it with embarrassment.

You wondered if the intimate moment you had last night would be brought up. Or rather, how to bring it up. What did lovers, much less married couples say after these things? The thing that was unsaid between the two of you now.

“Oh your cock is pretty large.”

“Thanks for cleaning up the mess between my legs!”

“I thought I would kick your head off by accident last night-sorry! I’ll be on top next time!”

There were people who thought men weren’t men, women weren’t women, and children would stay children until they were bedded. You looked at your bare feet poking out from below. It was still your feet. Your hands were still your hands. And even the face in the mirror on the wall across from you was still your face. You were supposed to be a woman now. But you didn’t feel any different than yesterday.

“Th…thank you, Y/N. I appreciate you waiting for me for the food,” he said.

You nodded. “Of…of course…and…about last night…I…”

The words froze in your throat. You were always raised as more of a proper lady. You were able to control any urges you had for other men. Besides, you didn’t want to risk getting pregnant and the difficulties that would bring. Or die in an attempted abortion. Or get a disease. The world of sex had things you heard about. Whispers or a page or two from books that you would secretly read when your parents backs were turned. But actually, experiencing them was something new. Exciting. Frightening. Unknown.

“I…it was…it was nice…” you said. “You were very nice to me…you are very nice to me…and I…I don’t know anything…”

He smiled genuinely and said “I’m…I’m glad. I’m glad it was nice for you…damn, these are good.” He said, chewing on his bite.

You finished your pastry. Little Sonya raced around the room and perking her head at any new sound she heard of footsteps. It was silent between the two of you as Grigor finished his breakfast. His shift was still open to show a bit of the hairs on his chest and his eyes had the slightly dark quality of an hour too much of sleep than one was used to.

“I was so scared about yesterday, I didn’t sleep much the night before,” you commented.

“Y/N…yesterday was very long. Take it easy today, please. You don’t have to do anything today. You can stay in bed all day even, if you’d like….”

“That…that would be nice. My mother is still here, can she come over and visit?” you asked.

“Yes! And…Can I invite your family over…just on a small hunt in the woods. The Emperor won’t be there because that’s his required hours with Catherine…ah, attempting for an heir.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of him. So we can all be together. We’re all a family now.”

“Yes, that…that sounds nice.”

It was a quiet mid-morning after breakfast was cleared. You were grateful for screens to dress behind and as soon as you were ready, there was a serf saying Grigor was asked for.

“Velementov needs your insight on a statue raised for Peter the Great, at once.”

It was a little lonely after he left. You read the fairy tales by the fire, the palace was large enough and you lacked the energy from yesterday to explore it anymore. And interacting with the other ladies of court scared you from what Catherine warned. You decided you would deal with court on a day you were not tired and aching from preparing a long-awaited wedding. Enjoying the silence and nothingness than fitting for your dress or seeing millions of well-wishers or trying not to let your crown fall off your head.

Looking further at your lodgings, the walls and furniture had matching, co-coordinating fabrics. There was a small throw pillow in a chair right by your bed that was the same color and pattern of the walls. You stroked the little pillow and then the walls, feeling the smoothness and bumps of the decorative flowers.

You rang up for hot water and some soaps. The bath was too intriguing to not try. Besides you felt grimy.

It was large. It took several steaming buckets before it was filled and you were left alone to step into it. The soaps smelled like honey and vanilla. There was steam building up in the room from the warmth of the bath. You noticed a mirror on a vanity was fogging up, as well as an oval shaped area mark on the wall catching some condensation. It was odd. Lightly colored. But there were faint dark marks as if a portrait had been on there for a while.

Shrugging off the observation, you peeked over to the side to see a few jars. Opening the porcelain lids, you saw bath salts and poured them in on an indulgent whim to add more flowery scents. Exhaling deep, your aching feet and limbs thanked you.

The perks of being friends with the Emperor of Russia…

You took the sponge placed next to the salts, giggling as you rubbed the soap on it. The sponge seemed about the size of your head. It covered your arms and legs. You were scrubbing on your body, standing up on in the tub to do so, when Grigor entered suddenly.

With a slight scream, you dipped down into the water quickly.

Splash!

You backed into the corner, your arms covering your breasts and your knees together, pulling away. Retreating into a near corner of the bath, you turned your head towards him. He even looked a little pink himself and could not resist a smug smile. He was not in his wig but was in the dark green court dress perhaps for whatever business he had to take care of.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to join you?” he asked, half-meaning it.

Though he turned away after the quip and covered his eyes with his hand dutifully.

“N-no thank you! I…I’m sorry…I’m just not used…please don’t gape at me!” you begged.

“Y/N! It’s fine.”

He peeked over and you made sure to duck low enough in the tub. Sure enough, it was safe. The edge of the tub, the soapy water and your limbs could cover anything too private. Only your head, with your wet hair clinging to you was visible.

You placed your hands on your face in shame.

“It’s so silly- we’ve already made love, Grigor…but it’s you…and it’s my body I…and I still feel….” You mumbled out timidly.

“Y/N…it’s alright. I’m not used to having a wife bathing in my room! I should have knocked….”

A jealous image jolted in your brain. Maybe Georgiana bathed in this very place. Maybe that was why he said “wife” and not “woman.” Maybe he was out with her. But…he couldn’t. He just couldn’t…would he? You didn’t love him. You liked him. And he was your husband and you were his wife. That was enough.

He keeled to the floor, seeing you at eye level with the bathtub covering what needed to be hidden. Though when you turned your head around. Only your head, with wet hair clinging to your face, and your neck and shoulders were visible.

“I…I’ve visited your mother. She will be staying here for a week and so will the rest of your family. You aren’t a prisoner in here, Y/N. You can have her up or visit her apartments. Even today if you aren’t too tired…we can host a tea or dinner for her if I’m not busy. Whatever you would like to do today.”

A smile crept up on you that matched his. You noticed his ears sticking out childishly like a mouse’s ears.

“That does sound nice…I’d like it if she came over this afternoon,” you replied. “And…your-er-our apartments are very pretty. Comfortable. I don’t feel like I’m in prison at all…”

He placed his hand in the warm water and tested it, his fingers stroking it. You noticed how long and graceful his hands looked, swirling the soap as if it was some magic concoction.

“Did you know I have a couple manors…and more than one vineyard?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Gifts from Peter to me. If I could perhaps talk to him for a bit…. we would go there. Have a real honeymoon. There’s one near my vineyard in the country in the west. The sunsets are stunning. And the wine’s not bad either. We could watch the sun over a bottle and get away from court for a little while…wouldn’t that be nice?” he offered.

You nodded, “yes, I would love to go there with you.”

“Wonderful. I’ll leave you be.”

He stepped and turned to the next room so you could finish bathing and dress in privacy. Part of you prayed maybe the emperor would listen to sense. If possible. Even one day away in the country drinking wine would be nice. And you could have worse company than Grigor.

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That afternoon, right as you were dressed for company in a simple burgundy dress and invited your mother to have afternoon tea with her in your new home. She was walked in. Running from Grigor’s side, you embraced her as if you had not seen her in a year. In front of the fire there was a third chair and tea and a few sandwiches. Sonya even barked on her arrival and wagged her tail.

It was just like it was two days ago. Almost.

Until a serf brought in Orlo in a bit of a hurry, his wig disheveled, a slab of some sauce possibly thrown across his jacket. His glasses even looked a little dirty and his hair disheveled.

“The emperor requests your presence immediately,” he parroted, looking at Grigor.

He sighed lightly, but bowed to your mother, gave you a kiss on your hand, patted Sonya’s head, and left.

“Y/N…you seem…you seem to like him,” she said.

“If I was going to be sold for everyone’s sake, at least it’s to a decent man,” you commented. “So many others aren’t as lucky.”

She took a sip of her tea. Sonya kept trying to stick her snout into the sandwiches and you shooed her away. Your mother laughed a little at the puppy’s antics. She even hopped up and tried to eye her for a bit of biscuit.

“Y/N, I received word this morning concerning the…you know…” she began.

Your grip on your teacup went cold.

“That the alliance is secured.” You said firmly. “Totally.”

Your stomach squirmed.

“Yes.”

“I did what I had to for all of us. I knew if I didn’t sleep with him soon, then everyone I love would be in danger. Grigor told me. Besides, it was my duty as his wife…it is my duty,” you said.

She leaned over closer, glancing to make sure no one was listening. She then placed two hands on your shoulders.

“Did he…did he force himself on you, as you feared? We’re alone, you can be honest.”

“No, he waited until I said yes.”

Your mother released a breath.

“Thank heavens!”

Setting down your cup, the emotions came pouring out.

“But Mama…that’s just one night! And were bound until death! There’s going to be so many more! It’s all so new and I just…right before it happens, I get so nervous!”

Looking down, you glanced at your stayed-up stomach beneath your dress. It looked normal. But who knows? You could be pregnant this very minute. Were you even ready to be a mother yourself?

“What can you…tell me about it?” she asked.

“I was…I was relaxed after it was over and I…I don’t even know what to think. I get nervous whenever he looks at me. I was bathing when he walked in and it scared me that he could gaze all over me. It just…it unnerves me!” you confessed. “And I already did it! How can that be?”

“Well, now you’re married, we can be more candid about it. I can finally talk about it. I understand being nervous. The first few times your father and I made love…”

“Mama, please!”

“It’s thrilling and scary. You’re just new. Y/N, I’ll have to go back home, so we better make use of this time but… but…you have no reason to be ashamed of it. Or too emboldened yet. It can be a beautiful act. And it can also be an awkward one…. just tell me what it is that tortures you and what you like and let’s see if I can help…”

You smiled and spoke with deep honesty to her. She advised you. Discussing everything. Far more details than the bits and pieces after your betrothal was announced. Although your ears burned with details of your parents you never wanted to think about, you found yourself learning more and more about your body and a bit of his and what happens and what to do.

The discussion was had even long after the sandwiches were finished in crumbs for Sonya to sneak licks of.

“I will be here for a little bit, we can discuss plenty more…you can also write, my dear.”

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It was getting dark. Grigor was still not back yet since tea. You were thankful for the long talk with your mother, but she had been long gone and now you were awaiting his return.

The old man serf walked into the room with a tray of food.

“Monsieur Dymov sends his apologies. The emperor is keeping him long. He asked me to send you this,” he croaked kindly.

Thanking him, you accepted the tray. Dining alone as the night sky sparkled out of your window and the red walls grew from scarlet to garnet with the light’s dimming.

The clock from the hallway ticked with the hour as you wiped your mouth and ate the last bite of potato. Opening a cabinet in your bedroom, you found a familiar nightgown was pressed in there and changed into it.

You were knitting away on your bed as the fire crackled. Sonya sat up with you a while and tried to chew on the yarn and then contented herself with sitting at the edge of the bed sleepily. That scarf you were working on still wasn’t complete. You started the project not long before the Emperor called on your home and now…well, things were different now. It was halfway through though. It would take hours of work, but it was still there. Your fingers were still a little sore from being at the task for a while. It still helped you with your nerves of what your husband would be expecting of you.

The blankets over you were a dark green this time, changed so the dark ones could be cleaned. Sonya curled into a ball like a little brown decoration on the bed.

You reached for the brush on top of the chest next to you, placed away the scarf, and began to work on brushing your own hair when you heard footsteps and a few grunts. And it was none of the servants.

Part of you fretted it would be Peter. If you were alone with him who knew what would happen. But you saw Grigor walk inside. He had a white shirt that was open and darker pants with boots.

“I’m here! It too forever-we played tennis for hours! You can’t believe how many noses we could hit on the portraits!” he reported cheerily.

Taking off his boots. Sonya got up and greeted him. He bent down and began stroking her fur. It seemed comical to see such a large man with a squeaking puppy the size of his neck.

“Tennis? No meetings of state?” you asked.

“Not when he wants to complain! He was completely hungover, too. It was almost pitiful.” He added with a spark in his eye. Grinning, you recalled why he was hungover.

“Any vomiting with the tennis?”

“Had a bucket on the corner- poor fellow!”

You laughed a little bit at the image.

Though to your mixed delight and horror, he took off his shirt, pants, and breeches, climbing naked into bed. As beautiful and toned he was, you never slept next to any naked person. Much less a man. Keeping your eyes on only his face, you froze. Then you ducked to look at your hands. On one hand, this was your husband. Your anxieties wondered if any…part of him would awkwardly brush against you in the midst of sleep.

The bed shifted as he lifted the blanket and sat next to you.

“Yes, none at all, Y/N! Why I…oh…oh I….I’m sorry,” he apologized noticing your embarrassed face.

“It’s…it’s fine. I remembered you liked sleeping naked I’lll….I’ll just try to get used to it…”

“Let me…let me put on my breeches.”

He rushed out to shimmy it back on and then hopped back. Exhaling deep, you continued brushing a stubborn tangle in your hair. It till hadn’t recovered from the thousands of pins of yesterday. He paused, looking at you. You had sat up, holding your comb now with both hands and clutching it on your lap.

As you returned to brushing, he laid down on the pillow, watching you gently.

“What is it?”

He took a strand in his hand gently, playing with a wisp of your hair.

“Your hair is lovely. That’s a sight I could get used to- to see you just sit there and brush it.”

You bit your lip.

“Th-thank you, Grigor.”

As soon as you did, you pulled a strand away, revealing part of your neck. He went over to lean closer. You couldn’t help but stare at how attractive the hair on his chest made him. But your palms got sweaty and your heart was racing.

“Do…do you want to…I…” you felt yourself mumbling over as the sensation took over.

“Want to what?” he asked. “What’s wrong, Y/N?” he asked.

“It’s just….I’m…nothing’s wrong!” you insisted.

You looked up at him with a little sigh.

“You must think I’m a nun, Grigor. I just…I know it’s my duty to…to please you…” you confessed, looking down at your shift, fingers clutched as if ready to pull it up and have it over with.

Besides, wasn’t it true that men were always rabbits in heat? And their wives were bound to lie down and let them at it?

“I…it doesn’t matter what I want, what do you want?” he said.

“You mean…I don’t have to make love to you tonight if I don’t want to?” you questioned, blinking.

“It’s simple as that…” he said with a shrug.

He took both of your hands, gently rubbing his thumb over yours.

“Remember yesterday? I promised you that you have my protection. You’ll always be safe with me, Y/N. Not just with last night. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to.”

“Well, I…I’m really tired after yesterday and I…I just want to sleep…”

“May I at least kiss you goodnight?”

“Yes…”

You placed your hands on his face to guide yours and he kissed you sweetly. You could taste his dinner, but you didn’t mind. Though once you let go, he trailed a kiss down to your neck and you felt yourself let out a sound at it. It tickled a little and your stomach was churning again at the feeling of his lips there.

“Grigor…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…thank you for the tray…I was hungry.”

“Thank you for being patient. He is my ruler, but you are my wife. We can have dinner tomorrow.”

“Alright, I command it,” you joked.

He leaned forward and kissed you chastely with a smile, cupping your face. You smiled into it and when you pulled away, you found you had held your breath during it.

“Alright, Y/N…good night.”

Blowing out the candles, your room was submerged in darkness.

But you fell asleep lying across from each other. Close enough to feel each other’s breath. And without being very aware of it, your hand wandered to his and held it right as you drifted away. But it was nice to feel him next to you and feel him nuzzle at you. Soon your exhaustion won, and you were asleep.

At one point when you woke up in the middle of the night and saw the outline of his bare chest rising and falling slowly. You nestled closer and placed your head on it, not minding the feeling of his body. His arm reached around for you. Accepting it, you fell back asleep.

The next afternoon was cool and the trees were orange and autumnal. You recognized the rest of your family in a party outside the palace. Everyone had their warmest coats and cornered hats. A couple of wigged serfs carried small brown bags right by their heels.

Grigor and you walked out to the start of the woods in outdoor coats and hats topped on your heads. You rushed over to embrace them at once. They called “Y/N! Hello,” and gave multiple hugs of greeting as Grigor stood aside to let you have a moment.

Though you noticed your brother frowned when he saw your husband. Giving him only a bob of his head.

As your family headed off where the palace ended and the woods began, you felt Grigor brush by you. You shook off a few leaves that fell on your dark blue skirt.

“Is it…is it safe?” you ask.

“I know every pathway. There are gardens and little buildings here and there. I’ve played here since I was a child-It’s more than safe.”

“I must confess I haven’t explored much on my own. The gardens are still confusing to me. I can’t imagine what the forest will be like…”

An idea struck you and you paused. In the distance you heard a few doves cooing in a tree in front of you.

“Do you think…” you began.

“Think what?”

“Maybe in the mornings, or the late afternoon, when Peter hasn’t called you, we can see more of the gardens and the palace. Even the woods. I’ll bring Sonya on a leash. We can all walk. Together,” you suggested.

He gave you a crinkled smile. Leaning forward so that his grey wig shifted to the side from his head.

“That…that’s a grand idea Y/N,” he replied. “So help me, you aren’t getting lost.”

Picking up your pace, you both caught up with the party. There were bits of conversation to catch up that felt like older times. And you were grateful for the lack of a certain brash emperor to stir feathers. The only feathers that would be stirring were that of the birds spotted in trees. Easy targets. The men reached for the guns near their thighs and began shooting.

Your father was surprisingly excited about it. He managed to get a small robin, and everyone clapped. Grigor was impressive but was better at brighter colored birds than something duller. The servants ran after the birds and stuffed them into the bags.

After some time of fetching, walking beneath crunching leaves, and some relaxed, light conversation concerning your friends back home, there was a yelp from your brother.

“Look there! A big one!” he cried.

You turned your head to look for this mighty bird. It was a crow, cawing in mockery above. Your father reaching up to aim.

“Arh! My blasted eyes! I can hardly see it!” he cursed, moving slowly as the bird hopped between trees.

You followed with your mother and sister-in-law, chin up to where the large back bird was headed. And then you heard a gruff sound behind you.

Urf!

Two figures were missing from the others chasing after the bird. Turning around, you could make out some angry whispers. Walking closer, you looked and saw where. Your brother had somehow grabbed Grigor by the collar and pinned him against a tree with his pistol. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes almost red with rage as he spat onto his face.

“I know you did, you bastard! Secured alliance my arse-you deserve to have your head chopped off!”

“What do you mean?” Grigor insisted, eyes large and his face white.

“You deranged pervert! My sister is one of the best women I know, and you torture her like that!”

“I’ve done nothing!”

“You’re a scoundrel among men! And I don’t know what is stopping me from the pleasure of blowing your brains out!” your brother hissed.

Heart leaping, you did not doubt he would pull the trigger on him.

“I know how you Russians are- And everyone knows how happy Catherine is with her husband, how will you be any better with Y/N! Much less, what you did to her!”

You cry out your brother’s name and he turned to see you. Picking up your skirts, you run in between them, placing yourself in front of Grigor. Your arms reach out to shield him. You feel his breath huffing quickly in nervousness and so does yours.

“Stop it! What did you think happened?”

“Y/N, we got a letter bragging about how he forced himself on you and expects us to congratulate him! I won’t stand for any man who treats you-“

“He did not rape me the other night, I consented!” you interrupted.

A few hairs flew free from your hat. You felt your hands ball into fists. Again your own privacy concerning your body was being tossed around and displayed publicly.

“What?”

“I consented to consummate the marriage. Grigor never forced himself on me. And he promised he would. I know you’re protecting me, but I won’t you let hurt him- stop being ridiculous!”

Glancing back, Grigor’s eyes were the size of robin’s eggs. His jaw was slack and he was frozen in place, but his posture softened from your protection.

“Sir…may I add, is this the way you thank your patron?” he asked.

Your brother blinked. His hand holding the gun relaxed in mid-air.

“P-patron?” he asked.

“Do you know who covered the fees for your travels? The bill for the hotel?”

“It…it was a gift. Anonymous. I thought it was from our tenets or from the Russian court so we could…” your brother responded.

“It was from the Russian court. Because I fucking sent it. I begged Peter to let you come to the wedding and be with Y/N the day we departed for Russia. I had to nag him every day for weeks and weeks. Can you imagine nagging your damn sovereign?! But he finally agreed. I paid every penny just to have you be taken here and have a roof over your head the whole time! It’s because of me you aren’t away at your home wondering if you’d even see her again!” he said in frustration.

It was your turn to drop your jaw and turn your head around.

“You…you did that? But…why anonymous!” he asked

“It was in case Peter fucking disagreed! And he would have if I didn’t spend out of my own damn pocket! If it were that, I would have sent Y/N to the hotel to see all of you.” Grigor explained.

Your brother was aghast, and you blinked in surprise.

“Why? Why all this…for me? For us?” you blurted.

“I didn’t want bad blood with my in-laws! And Y/N your face- the look you had when our carriage was pulling away after the contract was signed…it haunted me. How scared, and miserable you seemed…I had to do something about it. I was practically stealing you away from everyone you’ve loved and known…I thought it would at least make you happy. It would make everyone happy. So, I did it.”

He nodded, looking down at you with his anger flushed out and his features softening.

Ears burning, you nearly clutched his hand as you processed what he did. Your brother sheathed his pistol.

“Forgive me…. she’s my sister and I…I was scared that I failed to protect her…” he apologized.

You soon heard footsteps and the others following suit. You felt Grigor’s gloved hand clutching yours as you both walked up, your brother in front of them.

“Why, what is it?” your sister in law asked, arms akimbo as she reached him. “We’ve been looking for you for a while!”

“I…uh, saw a rabbit and we raced to catch it, honey…” your brother answered with a quiver in his lip.

She rolled her eyes but got his arm anyway.

“Well, at least you’re safe. I thought we heard a bit of fighting,” she added, kissing his forehead.

Looking up, you felt Grigor walk forward, suggesting.

“Sir… join me after dinner, I have a bottle from Kiev. Let’s crack it open and enjoy a little mano e mano chat…we only need to know each other better. Is that good?”

“Yes that…that’s good,” your brother nodded, allowing his wife to loop her arm around his and lead him away.

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There must have been a little magic stored in that bottle. You sensed that after dinner you should leave them alone for them to drink and talk it out, especially since guns would not be involved. Though you could not help but place your ear outside the door that led to your apartment.

Though as you sat outside the hall, listening through as Sonya panted in your arms, you heard a clearing of a throat. Turning, you saw Mariol holding a book.

“The Empress asked wanted me to know, have you ever read Rousseau?” she asked sharply.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then she wanted to give you this as a late wedding present. And for me to say that you’re free to visit her to talk about it. Count yourself lucky she likes you,” she added honestly.

Biting your lip, you thanked Mariol and accepted the thin book bound in red. Sonya sniffed at it in your other arm.

As much as you wanted to glance through the pages, you heard ridiculous laughs from your brother. Chuckling as Grigor chatted about a whistle that could summon an army of ducks from the back yard. But it was your brother’s silly, relaxed, happy laughter. The one of the happy boy you grew up with and not the man who almost killed your husband hours ago.

Poking in your head at the crack of the door shyly, you saw that they were enjoying a roasting fire next to them. Heads turned to acknowledge you. You shied away at first, but Grigor gestured you over.

“Ah! My darling Y/N…. come join us, please!”

“Isn’t this a man conversation?” you asked teasingly.

“I can make an exception!” he said, sipping his vodka.

Grinning you obliged, setting down the dog to be at your side and putting the book away. You allowed your husband to lean against you and clutch your hand. The sensation made you nearly feel a little dizzy. Even greeting him with a kiss on the cheek as a thanks for your cup of Kiev vodka. And your brother’s eyes didn’t redden this time. In fact, he gave you a toothy grin like the kind you shared when you ate sweets as children. When he fell asleep that night, you found yourself happy to see him smiling but secretly a touch disappointed. And you knew why.

That next night you waited for him to return from Peter’s request to dine and play who knows what games. Your heart was beating fast as you gave your hair a quick brush through, just as he liked it. Admiring the green laid on the walls in contrast to the red, you heard him mutter something to his servant. But you kept thinking of him- how he kept you safe on that night, how he shared the vodka with you, and the personal sacrifices he made to bring your family to you for the wedding. That and the image of his bare chest rising and falling in the middle of the night made you suddenly burn and ache for him when he left. And you wanted to do something about it.

There was the orange glow of the candles and the rest was taken care of by the night sky.

“Y/N? Y/N, where are…”

You wore your green robe and sat down on the bed at the end. Grigor walked into the room and then froze. Beneath your robe there was nothing else and he noticed.

“Hello, I’m here…”

“Hello…” he greeted. His pupils growing wide.

“I…I want to be yours tonight…if you’ll have me…And I’m just as nervous, but I want you too much for that…”

You walked up in front of him and touched his face gently.

“You…you want me? Do you want me?” he asked, almost in confusion.

“I want you. Now take me, husband,” you said.

He was on you in a heartbeat, his hands undid the knot holding your robe together. And though a jolt of nerves shot through you, you buried yourself in kissing him back too much to focus on it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a peaceful week following. Dinners, teas, and visits. Drinks between you, your brother, and Grigor as the alcohol burned your throat and the fire toasted your sides. Numerous visits and talks. And nights where you slowly got more comfortable with yourself and Grigor and connecting through your bodies and not being ashamed of it.

In a blink of an eye, it was a week done. And your mother’s apartment was filled with her luggage.

The other three met you and Grigor in front of the palace as their carriage together trotted up. You embraced your father and mother constantly. You felt yourself cry when at the sound of the hoofbeats. Your father kissed your forehead, “my darling girl, I’ll miss you so much.”

Your mother gave you an extra hug and said “your father and I will always love you, no matter what.”

Your sister-in-law made promises to write and you swore to include details of whatever mischief little Sonya got into with an attempted sketch.

While Grigor shook the hands of each of them he paused before your brother. Hesitantly.

“I didn’t know you well…I hope you will forgive me,” your brother confessed. “I shouldn’t have acted the way I did…I love my sister and I was worried for her safety, her happiness.”

“I promise you- your sister will want for nothing under my care.”

“Even if the Emperor…?”

Both of you froze. You seemed to have overlooked it. But your brother’s gaze was serious.

“He’s my friend, she’ll be safe even with him,” he answered. Although a sad glimmer in his eye told you that there was a memory in his head that was saying otherwise.

Now you were truly alone, you thought. And with a ruler who was both a great help but could also be a great threat to you. You recalled the way he oogled you and suggested you come to his bedchamber that first night as a compliment to the royal guest and you felt yourself shrink once the carriage door closed.

Before you knew it, you were trembling, and you started to sob. Grigor took your shoulder and shushed you. He opened his mouth but stopped himself. What was there to even say?

There that coachmen and those horses were, taking your family further and further away. No more reading with your mother. No more eating with your father. No more discussing plays with your brother and his wife or anything. A part of your life. Your childhood. Your adolescence. Your youth. All you had known. All you had been raised with was leaving. That a part of you was dead and a new life with new, wild, frightening people was beginning. This time your mother wasn’t there to squeeze your hand and talk about anything. Your sister-in-law couldn’t make you laugh. Your father couldn’t put an arm around you when you cried. And your brother couldn’t rush a man into the woods with a loaded gun to protect you.

Grigor looked down at you and placed an arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him into a half embrace as the carriage holding your family disappeared in the distance like melting snow.

Taglist: @retropetalss @queenlover05 @joeslee (thank you for your insight when I couldn’t decide the ending!) @grigorlee @itsametaphorgwil @always-a-fairycat @foxinaforestofstars @simonedk @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @queenlover05 @xviiarez @kiainspace @gwilymleeisbae @writeroutoftime @staradorned @iwritefanficnotprophecies @panagiasikelia @marshmxllowfluf

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stallingdemons · 4 years

Text

Reunited

Who: Steve Rogers/Captain America, Rhodes/War Machine, Natasha Romanoff/The Black Widow, Sam Wilson/Falcon, Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch, Vision What: Steve and [Y/N] finally reunite after downfall of the Sokovia Accords

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“Still no word from Vision?”

[Y/N] walked into the room where Rhodes, the Secretary of State, and a few government officials were holding a meeting. Pressing her lips together and holding the tablet in her hand, she sighed, “Satellites lost him somewhere over Edinburgh.”

The holographic Thaddeus Ross looked at [Y/N] with a look that made her uneasy. “On a stolen Quinjet with four of the world’s most wanted criminals!”

[Y/N] flinched, she wasn’t used to being in front of Ross without Tony being there. She usually kept quiet and only spoke when spoken to but hearing him call her friends criminals started to make her blood boil. Gritting her teeth, she braved her response. “With all due respect, sir, but they’re only criminals because you’ve chosen to call them that.”

“My God, [L/N],” he groaned, standing up from the holographic table and making his way towards her. His piercing blue eyes made her regret saying anything. “You’ve clearly taken up after Stark’s inability to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s for sure. I assume since he’s missing, you have to keep up the smart-ass act?”

Rhodes stepped forward, intervening, unsure of how unstable [Y/N] was and though Tony’s inventions hadn’t quite been failing lately, he wasn’t sure how long the bracelet around her wrist would hold against a boiling mad evolving superhuman. It wouldn’t surprise Rhodes at all to see her powers become resistant to the metal protecting her and others. “She’s got a point, sir. They’re only criminals because you’ve labeled them as so.”

Ross returned the scoff, “Your talent for horseshit rivals my own.”

“If it weren’t for those Accords, Vision would be here right now.” [Y/N] spat, she was getting heated. She had never liked Ross, he was always made her uneasy and sometimes she felt that he was being an asshole just because he could be and not because he had to.

Ross chuckled, clearly amused by her sudden agitation. “If I remember correctly, your signature were on those papers, [Y/N]. And yours too, Colonel.” Ross flickered a look towards Rhodes and shook his head in slight disgust towards their behavior.

Rhodes nodded, the feeling of regret washing over him. He knew in his heart that signing those Accords wasn’t the right thing to do but he was a military man that was severely loyal to his country. “That’s right,” Ross stood directly in front him, Rhodes not skipping a beat and standing his ground. “And I’m pretty sure I paid for that.”

Ross looked down towards Rhodes's legs, challenging him. “You have second thoughts?”

Rhodes shook his head, “Not anymore.”

Ross looked over towards [Y/N], “And you? You having second thoughts?”

Tilting her head, she pressed her lips, “Well, my thoughts weren’t allowed to be heard.”

Ross was about to give a retort but the sound of footsteps stopping him from speaking. They all turned towards the doorway to find Steve, Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Sam walking towards them.

[Y/N]’s heart started to beat rapidly at the sight of her friends. Her eyes raking over their tired, battered faces and attire. Going into hiding had clearly done a number on them. But, [Y/N] figured as much. She had been tasked a few times through the Secretary of State to search for her friends and she had come fairly close once. But, she turned a blind eye at the last minute knowing that if she brought what she had found to Thaddeus, they would be captured and treated like dogs.

Steve’s voice was tight and full of resentment, a tone she hadn’t heard from him before. “Mr. Secretary.” It amazed [Y/N] how he could still be respectful after all these years. That he could look Ross straight in the eyes and be cordial after everything that had happened.

Ross squinted his eyes, his jaw locked tight. “You’ve got some nerve. I’ll give you that.”

Natasha smirked, “You could use some of that right now.”

Ross nodded, not budging from his locked jaw. “The worlds on fire and you think all is forgiven?” He stood directly in front of Steve, his eyes searching for some kind of submission from the Captain but even [Y/N] knew that it wouldn’t be found within the solider.

Steve’s expression and tone read everything but submission, “I’m not looking for forgiveness and I’m way past asking permission. Earth just lost her best defender,” He took a step forward, “so, we’re here to fight. And if you wanna stand in our way, we’ll fight you too.”

Ross clicked his tongue, turning away from the Captain and looked towards Rhodes and [Y/N]. “Arrest them.”

Rhodes exchanged glances with [Y/N], nodding. “All over it.” [Y/N] smirked as she waved goodbye to Ross and closed out the hologram before he could object. Rhodes chuckled, shaking his head and fist bumping [Y/N] for her move. Looking over at the Captain, he smiled, “It’s great to see you Cap.” Shaking hands with Steve and hugging Natasha, he sighed. “Wow, you guys really look like crap. Must have a been a really rough couple of years.”

Sam chuckled, nodding. “Well, the hotels weren’t exactly five star.”

“No, I suppose they weren’t.” [Y/N] mused.

“You look good, [Y/N]” Natasha smiled, reaching over and hugging her. Pulling her in close, “Thank you.”

Raising a brow, “Huh?”

Natasha pulled away, smirking, “Don’t think we didn’t catch you trying to snuff us out in Munich.” Stepping back, she flickered a look towards her comrades and then back at her. “We were just waiting for the doors to bust down but it never came. Next thing we know there’s Quinjets zooming out of the city.”

Smiling, she nodded. “After that, we just knew you were giving us time to escape to the next place.”

[Y/N] looked down, avoiding Rhodes's shocked expression. She was loyal to Tony, no doubt. She had never lied to him before other than knowing where Vision was going off to and when she was close to capturing her friends. “Yeah, well. I didn’t quite exactly believe in the cause I was forced to fight.”

Steve stepped forward, emotions swirling left and right around him. “Either way, we’re grateful for that opportunity you gave us.” He stood directly in front of her, wondering if she was feeling what he was feeling. It had been years since their last encounter and there wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t long to be with her, to hear her laugh, to feel her touch.

Rhodes catching onto the slight tension in the air, cleared his throat. “Hey, you guys look like you could use a nice hot shower and a good meal.” He motioned towards the others, “You all come with me and I’ll get you set up.” Walking past [Y/N] and Steve, he gave a warm smile. “Catch up with me when you two are done.”

“Thank you, Rhodey.” [Y/N] murmured.

Steve watched as his comrades walked out the room, leaving him with [Y/N]. It felt strange being in front of her. “I gotta say, I was pretty surprised to hear your voice at the end of that line.”

[Y/N] tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, “Yeah, I was surprised to hear you too.” Biting her lip, she couldn’t hold back. She rushed into him, hugging him tight. Sighing into his chest as he embraced her back, she mumbled against him. “I’m so happy you guys are okay.” It felt foreign to be hugging him but just right at the same time. [Y/N] wondered if things between them would ever go back to the way they were.

Steve, who had been so tight and tense from the past years of being on the run, melted into her touch. His arms wrapped around her frame and held her closer. He took a deep breath, inhaling her coconut shampoo. “You too, [Nickname].” Pulling away from her slightly, he looked down into her eyes.

“Steve, I,” A tear slid down her cheek, “I’m so sorry. I wanted to come find you. Just me. But, Tony, he, I couldn’t.”

Steve shook his head, pulling her closer, his hands coming to cup her cheek. His thumb brushed away her tear. “Don’t apologize, [Y/N]. I get it. I knew if you could, you would.” Pulling her into another hug, he held her close and caressed her head. “I’m just glad that you’re right here. I don’t think I could lose you like we just lost Tony.”

Sighing into his embrace, “I’ve been lost long enough.”

Steve nodded, pulling her face towards his. “You’re damn right about that.” Kissing her, he vowed that he’d never let anything separate them again.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

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mhsctb · 3 years

Text

Get Smart!

Defining wisdom and foolishness according to Proverbs:

Before diving into defining wisdom and foolishness, it would perhaps be important to highlight, right from the beginning, what the entire book of Proverbs is working towards. In layman’s terms, the entire book screams, “wisdom, get it!” In more technical terms, the book begins by saying the point is to know wisdom and to increase in learning (1:1, 5). Further, it explains that the “fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (1:7), which sets the stage for our journey into how wisdom and foolishness described.

Kidner, in his commentary on the Proverbs, says that the wisdom is “God-centered, and even when it is most down-to-earth it consists in the shrewd and sound handling of one’s affairs in God’s world; in submission to his will” (Kidner, Proverbs: An Introduction and Commentary, TOTC, 14). Therefore, whatever we learn about wisdom and foolishness in Proverbs has this at its base, mainly knowing how to navigate life according to God’s design. Kidner also sees wisdom as a thread that runs through the OT simply because “God is self-consistent” and is thus revealed in all of the “themes of history, law, prophesy and apocalyptic” (Kidner, 14) writings. Therefore, we can conclude, like the authors of our textbook, that “God is the source and giver of wisdom, and in the theological principle of the fear of the Lord rooted in Israel’s covenant relationship with Yahweh” (Hill and Walton, Survey of OT, 441).

One final note that I think it important and will greatly influence the 3 practical ways to grow in wisdom: Kidner mentions that we should not stop at the old covenant, but that “a greater than Solomon was to come, choosing to teach in the forms and rhythms of the wise and and carrying their /māšāl/ to its ultimate perfection in his parables” (Kidner, 16). In defining wisdom we must necessarily go to Christ, not only in the definition, but especially in the application. Jesus’ life, death, burial and resurrection is the ultimate portrayal of wisdom—a wisdom that seems like foolishness to men, but reveals God’s incredible plan of salvation (1 Cor 1:26-31) for His glory. Paul’s point is that wisdom means being in Christ Jesus, “who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption” (1 Cor 1:30) and that the overall purpose in all of this is that our “faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God” (1 Cor 2:5).

Wisdom: —hearing instruction (1:8) —listening to reproof (1:23) —understanding of God will come (2:5) —leads to understanding of righteousness, justice, integrity, knowledge, discretion, deliverance (2:6-22) —leads to favor and good success in the sight of God and man (3:4) —means not being wise in your own eyes (3:7) —wisdom is turning from evil (3:7) —accepting discipline as from the Lord (3:11) —being attentive to instruction (4:1) —in getting wisdom, not forgetting it (4:5) —avoid evil at all costs (4:15ff) —consider the wisdom God has put before you (example of the ant ch.6) —memorizing God’s Word and instruction (6:20ff) —defines wisdom as instruction that is better than silver, gold or jewels (8:10-11) —wisdom is discerning what God hates (8:13) —understanding God’s sovereign rule over our world (8:22ff) —defines wisdom as a banquet “come eat and drink” and “live and walk in the way of insight” (9:1-6) —wisdom is instructing others (9:8) —the wise study and invest in knowledge (10:14) —blameless, upright, seeking counsel, gives freely (ch.11) —loves discipline and loves knowledge (12:1) and is willing to discipline his children (13:24) —promotes humility over vanity (12:9) —wisdom is good sense that wins favor (13:15) —fear of the Lord (which leads to wisdom) is a fountain of life (14:27) —a gentle answer, a gentle tongue (15:4) —wisdom leads to rejecting bribes and being fair (15:27) —being instructed in wisdom by the fear of the Lord (15:33) —slow to anger (16:32); good sense makes one slow to anger (19:11) —loves at all times (17:17) —wisdom is knowing that God’s name is a strong tower and to run into it and be safe (18:10) —intelligence is acquiring knowledge, seeking knowledge which leads to wisdom (18:15) —wisdom will affect subsequent generations (20:7) —allowing the Lord to execute justice and waiting for His deliverance (20:22) —seeing danger and responding appropriately (22:3) —speaking rightly leads to worship! (23:16) —wisdom is knowing when to speak, when to stay silent (25:11) —wisdom leads to contentment and understanding who we truly are (chapter 30 in particular) —chapter 31 is a good description of wisdom in action

Fear of the Lord = a desire for instruction + a heart of humility + God’s design for life which results in wisdom

Foolishness: —listening to evil plans (1:10ff) —refusing to listen; ignoring counsel (1:24-25) —leads to being cut off and rooted out (2:21-22) —rejecting discipline (3:11-12) —crooked speech, devious talk, swerving to right or left (4:24-27) —following after temptation (all of chapter 5, chapter 7 and the example of the adulteress) —sowing discord, perverted desires, slumber, lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, heart that devices wicked plans, false witness, one who sows discord (6:12-19) —pride and arrogance (8:13) —describes Folly as a loud, seductive and knows nothing who calls to fools and entices the simple (9:13ff) —sluggard, perverse mouth, slander, quick to talk, slow to speak (ch.10) —violence, cruel, evil, belittles, lacking sense, lacking discretion (ch.11) —a fool hates reproof and is stupid (12:1) —what is right in your own eyes (12:15) —despises the word and brings destruction (13:13) —the fool spares the rod and hates his son (13:24) —relying on a way that seems right to a man that leads to death (14:12) —a fool oppresses people and insults his Maker (14:31) —manifests in being hot tempered and stirring up strife (15:18) —a fool rejects wisdom and despises himself (15:32) —arrogance in heart (16:5) —plots evil, spreads strife, dishonest, violent, ignores evil (16:27ff) —listens to evil lips (17:4), seeks rebellion (17:11) —doesn’t seek to understand anything (18:2) —desire without knowledge brings a man to ruin because of his folly (19:2-3) —the fool stops listening to instruction which leads to straying from the words of knowledge or rejecting wisdom (19:27) —making rash vows! (20:25) —haughty eyes and a proud heart (21:4) —failing to see danger, but running ahead (22:3) —oppressing the poor to increase wealth (22:16) —giving oneself over to addiction (23:20, 30): examples within Proverbs are wine/strong drink, but also the adulteress and the prostitute —repeating folly is like a dog returning to vomit (26:11) : a good description of someone who continually rejects wisdom —foolishness is lack of self-control (15:28) —forsaking the law and praising the wicked (28:4)

Foolishness = rejection of instruction + arrogance + rejection of God’s design for life which results ultimately in death

3 ways to grow in wisdom based on Proverbs

1. Seek out wisdom by gaining instruction —in humility and with great purpose and intentionality —look for wise counselors in my life and ask for help —never stop learning and growing in knowledge and wisdom

2. Seek out wisdom by starting first with the fear of God —reject the temptation to define wisdom internally and by myself —work diligently to understand God’s Word so that my thinking, behavior and emotions are changed by God, not by culture or faulty sources

3. Understand wisdom by linking Proverbs to Jesus (or reading Proverbs through the lens of Jesus) —1 Cor 1:26 to 2:16 “for we have the mind of Christ” —relying on the Holy Spirit to give understanding and significance when reading through Proverbs and working to apply wisdom to myself, my family, my church and my ministry

#bible365 #proverbs

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lifeofresulullah · 4 years

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The Life of The Prophet Muhammad(pbuh): The Conquest of Makkah and Afterwards

The Conquest of Makkah: Part 7

The Prophet Enters the Kaaba

The Messenger of God sent somebody to Uthman b. Talha and asked for the key to the Kaaba. Though Uthman b. Talha’s mother urged him not to give the key to the Kaaba to the Prophet, Talha gave him the key.

The Messenger of God entered the Kaaba together with Bilal, Usama b. Zayd and Uthman b. Talha (may God be pleased with them). He had ordered beforehand that the pictures and idols inside be removed; however, there were still some traces of them inside. He gave an order for those traces to be cleaned up.

After staying inside the Kaaba for a while, the Prophet came out. Meanwhile, almost all of the people of Makkah had gathered and were waiting for the decree of the Prophet about them.

They wondered if the Messenger of God would throw tripe against their faces as they had done to him? Or, would he throw thorns on the road and make them walk on thorns? Or, would he torture and insult them? Would he put a rope around their necks and make them walk around the streets as they had done to some Companions? Would he torture them by making them lie down on scorching sand? Would he leave them hungry and thirsty? Or, would they be expelled?

No, Messenger of God, for whose sake the universe was created and who was sent as mercy for the realms, did not do any of them.

The Sermon of the Conquest

The Messenger of God stood by the door of the Kaaba. He was looking at the people with a smile on his face. After praising and thanking God, he recited the following sermon:

“There is no god but Allah; He has no partners.

He fulfilled His promise; He helped His slave and eliminated the enemies that gathered against him.

Know it well that all of the things that belong to the Era of Jahiliyya and that are regarded as means of pride like feuds, and conflicts regarding property have been abolished.

All people were created out of Adam; and Adam was created out of dust.

“O mankind! We created you from a single (pair) of a male and a female, and made you into nations and tribes, that ye may know each other (not that ye may despise each other). Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is (he who is) the most righteous of you. And God has full knowledge and is well acquainted (with all things).” (al-Hujurat, 13)

General amnesty

After his sermon, the Messenger of God asked the people there: “O Qurayshis! What do you think I will do to you?”

The Qurayshis said, “You are a generous and good brother. You are a generous and good nephew. We think you will do good things about us.”

Thereupon, the Messenger of God said,

“My situation and your situation are like what Joseph (Yusuf) said to his brothers.”“I am saying to you what Yusuf said to his brothers, ‘This day let no reproach be (cast) on you: God will forgive you, and He is the Most Merciful of those who show mercy’” (Yusuf, 92).

“You can leave; you are free.”

The best pardoning is to pardon when one has power; the best favor is the favor done in return for bad deeds. The best mercy is to show mercy on those who have not shown mercy on you. That was what the Messenger of God did because he was taught the following by God Almighty:

“Hold to forgiveness; command what is right; but turn away from the ignorant.”

At that moment, the Qurayshis were waiting in the presence of the Messenger of God lowering their heads and opening their hands. If he had wished, he would have killed all of them in return for the oppression and tortures they had inflicted upon him or he would have enslaved them; he could have confiscated their land and exiled them.

However, the Prophet, who was sent as mercy to the realms, did not do any of them. His only aim was to conquer people’s hearts. Thanks to this exceptional attitude of his, the Prophet served his aim very well. Upon his merciful behavior, pardoning and generosity, the Qurayshi polytheists abandoned their feelings of hatred and enmity; they embraced Islam.

History witnessed such a magnificent spiritual and ideological revolution for the first time.

No Migration after the Conquest

It was on the day when Makkah was conquered.

Abdurrahman b. Safwan brought his father to the presence of the Messenger of God. He said,

“O Messenger of God! My father will pay allegiance to you and promise to migrate.”

The Messenger of God said, “There is no migration after the conquest of Makkah.”

Nevertheless, Abdurrahman wanted his father to benefit from the spiritual reward of being a muhajir. Therefore, he went to Hazrat Abbas, the Prophet’s uncle. He asked Abbas, whom the Prophet loved a lot, to intercede for him.

Abbas accepted Abdurrahman’s request and said to the Prophet, “O Messenger of God! You know my friendship with that person. His father came to you to pay allegiance by promising to migrate but you did not accept him.”

Makkah, which was the only remaining castle of the Arabian polytheists, had been conquered. Islam gained great strength through it. Therefore, the Prophet decided to end the institution of migration. That is why, he did not answer his uncle, whom he loved a lot positively. He said, “There is no allegiance for migration from now onward.”

The migration that the Messenger of God ended was migration from a Muslim land, where Muslims could practice Islam freely to another Muslim land. That is, it was migration from Makkah and places near Makkah to Madinah when the Prophet was alive.

The Second Sermon of the Prophet

On the second day of the conquest, after the noon prayer, the Messenger of God went up the ladder of the Kaaba, leaned back the Kaaba, praised God and addressed the people as follows:

“O people!

There is no doubt that God rendered Makkah haram and untouchable on the day He created the skies and the earth, the sun and the moon; it will remain haram and untouchable until the Doomsday.

It is not permissible for a person who believes in God and the hereafter to shed blood and to cut trees within the boundaries of the Haram of Makkah. To shed blood in Makkah was not permissible before me and it will not be permissible after me, either.

Those who are listening to me here should convey what I say to those who are not here.

…

From his point onward, the family of a person who is killed will have two choices. They will want either the killer to be executed or blood money to be paid to them.

There is no doubt that the most disrespectful, ferocious and fiercest person toward God Almighty among people is the one that kills a person or kills a person other than his murderer or that kills a person in order to take revenge remaining from the Era of Jahiliyya.

A person cannot attribute himself to anybody except his father or a relative of his fathers. A child that is born belongs to the owner of the bed.

It is the duty of the plaintiff to bring evidence to prove his claim and it is the duty of the denier to swear an oath.

There is no Jahiliyya treaty in Islam or migration after the conquest.

A Muslim is a brother of another Muslim; all Muslims are brothers. Muslims are like a single hand against their enemies; they act in cooperation.

...

The bloods of Muslims are equal to one another. They try to fulfill their duties; the weakest of them try to fulfill even the most difficult ones.

Know it very well that a believer, a Muslim cannot be killed for an unbeliever; nor those who have vows among them can be killed for unbelievers living in the land of unbelievers due to their vows.

There is no exchange marriage without dowers in Islam.

A man cannot marry the aunt of his wife while he is married with her.

It is not permissible for a woman to give away the goods of his husband without his permission.

A woman is not allowed to go on a three-day journey or a longer one without being accompanied by one of her mahram men.

Know it very well that a will is not necessary for inheritance. Members of different religion cannot be the inheritors of one another.

The diyah of one finger is ten camels. The diyah of a deep wound under which the bone is seen is five camels.

No prayer can be performed after the morning prayer until the sun rises. No prayer can be performed after the afternoon prayer until the sun sets.

I prohibit you from fasting on two days: One of them is the day of eid al-adha, the other is the day of eid al-fitr.

I showed you the way that you can understand.”

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7deadlycinderellas · 4 years

Text

I have no use for rings of gold, I care not for your poetry 4/4

Ao3 link

Jon barely manages to arrive the day before the wedding, and Arya doesn’t even get to see him until early in the morning the day of.

Arya’s up with the sun because of nerves. When the handmaid comes to fetch her, she feels like her stomach might boil over.

Mother had the maids draw her a bath in her solar, and she scrubs every inch of her skin to the handmaid and her mother’s standard. Once she’s dried off, Sansa comes to join them.

They help her dress, even though she’s been handling that by herself for so many years. First her chemise, smallclothes, all of soft linen, and then her stockings.

Then they laid over it, her gown, fine soft wool with trailing sleeves and a round neckline. The cloak knots over her throat, protecting it from the cold.

Sansa is combing out her hair when the words start spilling from Arya’s mouth.

“What if we marry and he decides he wants a proper lady as his wife? What if I’m so awful at everything I just end up embarrassing us both? What if-”

Catelyn cuts her off with a pin pressed roughly to her scalp.

“Arya, given my own perspective on our entire failure to curb your less ladylike behavior, I can safely say that Gendry has no right to say he doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”

That only does a bit to settle the butterflies in Arya’s stomach.

Butterflies that can barely touch the level of the ones Gendry is experiencing right now.

His clothing requires far less preparation than hers, so he has far more time to pace and mutter and think of even more things that could go wrong. He doesn’t voice too many of them, not to Ned or Robb, or Bran when he sticks his head in to offer to help. Still after all of this, he doesn’t feel right sharing these doubts with anyone who isn’t Arya.

Arya’s finished and merely biding her time, when there’s a knock.

Her heart swells when Jon sticks his head in and asks if he can have a minute alone with her.

When he steps forward, Arya is suddenly self-conscious. There’s a swooping realization that she comes up to his chin now. He stares at her for a moment, before chuckling, and moving in to hug her. She can’t help herself, lets out a tiny squeal and launches herself into his arms.

“I was so scared they wouldn’t let you leave,” she admits against his chest.

“I was too,” he admits, “I was worried you would be scared and need someone to whisk you off over the wall and I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

Arya sniffs.

“It’s alright. I don’t think you need to.”

Her face pulls itself into a strange expression. She’s not sure how to describe it, and Jon has never seen it on her face before.

Jon steps back, his hands still on her shoulders.

“Seven hells Arya,” he says, breathless, “Do you actually want to get married?”

Arya’s face flushes deeply, but she doesn’t let it affect her speech. Her embarrassment has no place here.

“He’s a good man, Jon,” she says quietly, “He’s my friend. But, these people that they want us to become once we are married...neither of us feel like we can do it, we’re both terrified. And I don’t know if we’ll be enough.”

“Arya,” Jon tells her, patting her head, but trying for once not to muss her astonishingly neat hair, “You were one of the bravest little girls I’ve ever met. I doubt the years I’ve been gone have changed that. There’s no challenge I don’t think you can face. And if Gendry is your friend like you say- I don’t doubt it, you could always make friends- then you should be able to lean on each other to make it easier.”

He claps her shoulders twice again.

“Speaking of Gendry, I should go give him an extra dose of brotherly terror.”

“Please don’t,” Arya asks, “he’s nice, I swear, even if you probably won’t believe it when you meet him.”

Jon chuckles, “I make no promises.”

Once he leaves, Sansa and Catelyn return to help her finish up. She even lets Sansa powder her face, even though the puff makes her sneeze.

Before she knows it, a maid sticks her head in to tell them they're ready.

Margaery comes to fetch Sansa back, and she takes a moment to congratulate Arya. She leans in close enough to her ear that Catelyn can’t hear.

“I’d bet you’re faster than every single man here. You should use that to your advantage, though once you’re back in your chambers, there’s no need to rush.”

She leaves before it hits Arya what she’s talking about, so she shakes it off. She’s nervous enough as it is.

Eventually Ned comes to retrieve her from Catelyn, and they make their way to the Godswood.

Arya had not relented on this during planning. While Catelyn had made sure that all her children raised knowing the faith of the seven, Arya had always kept the old gods. She was of the north, and so would be her wedding. Gendry had shrugged, never having been a man of faith himself.

Though, the officiant is still the wizened old Septon from the town.

Arya’s mind drifts during the ceremony. She’s never thought much of the vows. She always preferred the sound of the southern vows. But when Gendry wraps her in his heavy, fur lined cloak, it fits her shoulders and she feels warm and content.

As they kneel to pray, she meets Gendry’s blue eyes, which are crinkling at the corners with a smile, a smile that she realizes is mirrored on her own face.

The kiss isn’t strictly necessary, but she sneaks it anyway.

And then there’s applause and yelling, Arya just barely being able to make out the faces of her family, and the two of them are lost in the crowd.

The feast begins, and the food and drink flows, and Arya reaches under the table to find Gendry’s hand and squeeze it. They are greeted by an endless number of people with an endless line of congratulations.

Between eating bits of her venison, Arya whispers to Gendry.

“If we even hear a hint of the word ‘bedding’, we’re going to run,”

She nods towards the exit, which is at least unblocked.

Gendry’s eyes are wide.

“I thought that was a joke? Highborns really do that?”

Arya snorts.

“Definitely not a joke, so unless you want nearly every woman in this hall trying to get a grab of your naked self, I suggest you follow my lead.”

He squeezes her hand tighter after that.

Arya gazes out on the dance floor once the music begins. Dancing is far from being the worst of the womanly arts she’d been taught, if it weren’t for all the stupid ettiquette rules, she might actually enjoy it. But it’s her wedding, so she gets the prerogative just to sit here and watch.

Off to one side, she watches Sansa and Margaery dancing, hands clasped, less than an arm’s length apart. Arya’s chest pulls tight watching, she hopes Sansa took her advice. Her sister deserves to be happy as much as she does.

Eventually though, the drink keeps flowing and the chatter quiets, and Arya hears one of her father’s older bannerman slam his mug on a table and begin to stand.

Arya seizes Gendry’s hand, standing abruptly.

“Follow my lead.”

Because if there’s one thing Arya knows she can do very well, it is run. And she does, full speed. Gendry never drops her hand and stays behind her, never once holding them back.

By the time they reach her chambers, and Arya bolts the door behind them, they’re both panting and out of breath.

Arya pats the bolt as Gendry sits on the end of her bed. Once she’s sure it’s locked, she sits beside him.

“We might get a few lingering outside, but I don’t think any of my family will let them start shouting suggestions like they do sometimes…”

And Arya remembers why they’re here. They’re married, and her bed will, for tonight, be their marriage bed. Her stomach lurches and her skin tingles with a combination of nerves and anticipation.

Gendry’s cheeks have become very red and he’s rubbing the back of his neck and she suspects he’s having the same thoughts.

Just as Arya clears her throat, Gendry opens his mouth and lets out an “erm.” She chuckles.

“The kissing felt nice,” Arya starts, quiet as a mouse, “We could just start there and see where it goes.”

Gendry nods, a little too quickly, and reaches for her hand again.

His lips do feel nice still, and his hand in hers feels nice too. His hand leaves hers and slowly makes its way up her arm to her neck. With a deep breath, Arya lets her eyes fall closed. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands, so she lets them sit on Gendry’s doublet.

He pulls back for a moment, and Arya plays with the fastener on the front of the garment.

“Can I?” she asks. Gendry swallows roughly, and then nods. Her hands undo the fasteners quickly, before she loses nerve, and pushes the leather from his arms.

He still has his undershirt on, but it seems like a line has been crossed and kissing him again when they’re done is easier.

After a moment, Gendry’s hands begin to fumble at her back. Arya’s confused until his voice says, “erm, you’re going to have to help me.”

“Oh,” she says, reaching back and twisting, “There’s a string tucked back here somewhere…”

She feels him pull the wrong side, and stretches, “not that one, that just makes it tighter-” but eventually, her wiggling manages to get the ties pulled loose, and the top of her dress pools around her hips.

She stands up and pushes it further to the floor. Standing like this, undressed, with Gendry’s eyes locked on her, makes her feel strangely powerful. She takes a deep breath, and with a rush of courage, pulls her chemise over her head too.

The stunned look on Gendry’s face makes it all worth it. Arya feels herself burst out laughing.

“What?”

“You just look so happy,” she admits. If she’d known the sight of her tits would make him smile so much, she’d have shown him them years ago.

He carefully reaches out with both hands. His fingers are gentle, but callused, and the rough pads feel surprisingly nice against the soft skin.

“What can I say,” he says, grinning wolfishly, “tits are great.”

Sometimes Arya feels she really doesn’t understand men anymore than women.

She reaches and tugs on his undershirt.

“Come on, you too,” she says, only a hint of impatience. He has it off in what seems like no time, and Arya pushes herself half into his lap in anticipation of feeling his bare skin against hers.

Gendry makes a grouchy noise when her move means he can’t touch her as easily, so she responds by nipping the side of his neck. She grins at seemingly getting the upper hand, when Gendry turns the tables back by ducking and managing to run his tongue over a nipple.

Arya is suddenly brought into another fit of the giggles by the thought of the word “nipple”.

“It’s alright, there’s nothing wrong,” she says through her giggles when Gendry looks up at her, concerned. She squishes herself closer against him, kissing his cheeks and his neck, and finding that soft little hollow behind his ear.

Warmth pools between her legs, she recognizes it, but has never felt it this intensely before. The furtive wanderings of her own hands could never even hope to bring these feelings to her. With a shock, she realizes she also recognizes the growing hardness pressed against her.

With a rush of boldness, Arya runs a hand down Gendry’s chest and stomach, fingers brushing questioningly at the laces of his breeches. Her feelings of courage are betrayed that she can tell that her face is entirely and completely beet red.

It’s not that she’s never seen a man naked before, she thinks when he nods and she begins to undo the laces, she’s seen her brothers naked hundreds of times when they bathed in the pools in the Godswood. But it was neve this close, and she was never, well, looking.

She gets his breeches loose, and her hand snakes underneath the fabric. Her mind barely has time to process that she’s actually touching Gendry’s cock, when he gasps, and grunts into her neck, and all of a sudden her hand is sticky.

“I’m sorry,” Gendry babbles, pulling back, humiliated. Arya looks at her hand and connects the dots.

“Already?” she asks, standing to reach for a cloth by the wash basin, to wipe her hand. She then passes it to Gendry, who dabs off his crotch, red-faced. His breeches are still hanging open, his cock soft and tender-looking.

“But, it- it’ll come back right?” she asks, confused.

He nods softly, finally managing to meet her eye. She laughs softly, trying to put him at ease.

“It’ll take time though,” he turns and rests his head on her shoulder and she feels a rush of affection she can’t really explain. “Might be a blessing in disguise though. All the advice I’ve gotten on this from men who seemed even half-decent said that you’re the one who will need warming up.”

Arya smiles, and Gendry reaches to push off her small clothes and stockings. She doesn’t tell him that she already feels quite warm.

“I may not know quite what I’m doing,” he nearly whispers, “But I’ll do my best.”

She doesn’t tell him that she’s come to like the idea. The idea that she’s not going to be compared to the memory of other women, that she’ll be the only one who gets to see him like this, to feel him. That this will be just for the two of them.

Once she’s naked, Gendry pushes his own clothes off onto the floor and gently nudges her up the bed towards the pillows. His eyes rake over her, and Arya tries not to feel too exposed, even when he reaches and nudges her thighs apart.

Gendry thinks back to some of the girls he knew in Flea Bottom, one’s who had on occasion let him kiss or touch them outside taverns or in alleyways. They’d never gotten properly naked though, and he’d never gotten to take such a good look before.

Arya’s gone red-faced yet again. When she’d flowered, she’d taken a hand mirror and put it between her legs, attempting to get a good look at her own cunt. She hadn’t been impressed.

“Kind of looks like a monster from under the ocean right?” she says, nervously, and then yelps when he grazes a finger along her.

“Have you ever heard ‘the Dornishman’s Wife’?” he asks, voice stuttering, ignoring her comment.

Arya nods, not sure where this is going. Gendry presses his fingers against her harder.

“Girl who worked at the same alehouse my mum used to- I would go back to see them all sometimes- married a man from Dorne. All the other waitresses teased her mercilessly...because of it I learned what the song meant. “

Arya’s mouth gapes.

“-you want to-” She knows what he’s talking about. She’d practically curled up and died hearing Sansa describe it, even as the thought intrigued her. She wonders if she should tell Sansa that boys can do it too.

“The other girls all teased Ruth a lot, but they seemed quite jealous of her too.”

His fingers start moving against her, as though searching for something.

“Oh, here,” Arya tells him, reaching down to move his fingers, “Further up, where the bits all come together.”

He finds the little nub, and rubs it softly. Arya keens.

“That wasn’t so hard,” Gendry says, sounding proud of himself, “Some men talk like it’s trying to find a rock at the bottom of the sea.”

Then he leans forward and licks it, and Arya lets out possibly the most undignified noise she’s ever made. She reaches out for the back of his head and runs her fingers through his hair. Gendry’s tongue runs itself over all of her cunt, watching her eyes carefully for any signs of discomfort. None come, Arya’s quickly wound tight at the sensation, panting, rolling over to her own peak quickly, quicker than she’s ever come by herself.

“So how do I taste?” she asks, breathless, trying to bring herself back down to earth.

Gendry’s head pops up from between her knees, and rests on her stomach, eyes still looking for hers.

“Sticky and sour.”

Arya huffs, offended and he laughs.

“Not in a bad way...kind of like a really, really ripe peach.”

Well, she supposes a peach is at least much better than a sea monster.

Gendry pulls himself up beside her on the pillow.

“That was-” he says, out of breath.

“Yeah,” Arya agrees.

With a glance downward, Arya feels a blush prickle at her neck.

“Looks like you’re ready to go again.”

Gendry pulls himself halfway up the pillows, and then leans over and touches her face softly.

“Ready to give this a shot?”

Arya nods.

There’s no coming back from this. Their marriage will be official, unbreakable, in the eyes of the gods.

She nods again.

To her surprise, Gendry grabs and pulls her over on top of him. When she looks down at him quizzically.

“You’ve pretty clearly got a better grasp of this than me.”

With that vote of confidence, Arya reaches between them. His cock is swollen and red, somehow both hard and soft at the same time, but she doesn’t take too long to marvel. She takes a deep breath, lines them up, and slowly sinks down.

Gendry sits himself up a bit higher as she slowly presses down until he can’t go in any further. Arya goes still, and his kisses one cheek softly, and her nose, and the corner of her mouth.

“You know that feeling,” Arya starts slowly, “When you hit your elbow against something- that kind of fast, white feeling before it actually starts hurting? That’s kind of what it’s like.”

She breathes in and out a few times, and relaxes all her muscles.

“It’s better now.”

She starts to move slowly, gingerly. After only a few movements, she realizes she doesn’t need to be so careful. She guides Gendry’s hands to rest on her hips, and starts to speed up with a deep groan.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he whispers, raising his hands to cup her breasts. She is, he thinks, hair hanging in her face, skin flushed all the way down to the top of her breast.

Arya can’t quite process his words, so she turns her head to rest on his shoulder as she moves.

None of this quite fits anything she expected, not the flowery songs Sansa used to coo over, not the way Theon used to talk about fucking whores, not even quite the nebulous image of her mother and father’s happy marriage.

Gendry’s below her, breathing in unison. He tries to grab a nipple between his lips. She’s still somehow surprised how good his cock feels inside her, hard and warm, and how solid and strong he feels underneath her.

He moves his hands up to the backs of her shoulders, and squeezes her closer to him, kissing her softly on the mouth.

“I’m too close again.” he mutters,

Arya nods, and doubles down, sinking onto him harder and faster, and reaching between them to touch herself until she feels her muscles contracting around him again, just as his head collapses onto her shoulder and he spills inside her.

Once their breathing slows, she retrieves one of the other cloths by the basin, and notices the table has also been set with two mugs of water and a tray of wintercakes.

It’s strange. The outside world had seemed to disappear. She passes Gendry a cake before running the cloth between her legs.

The thin red streak along it when she brings it away from herself makes her scoff. They had nothing to prove to anyone but each other.

“It seems,” Arya says, returning to the bed and making a spot for herself under one of Gendry’s arms, “That the two of us make quite a team.”

Gendry smiles.

“That’s a good word for it,” he says, “A team. We’ll need that when we have to face the world tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” Arya mumbles, turning to kiss him once, “Can’t we just stay here?”

Gendry pulls his arm tighter, so she’s rolled half on top of him.

“Sounds good to me,” he mumbles sleepily, “But first, a nap.”

Arya nods, half drifted off herself.

They wake, and their hands reach for each other twice more that night, and once more in the morning, sheets rustling in the early dawn’s light.

When they dress in the morning, and move to go face the rest of Winterfell, Arya opens the door to find only Sansa and Margaery sleeping outside the door.

Margaery wakes at the movement.

“Sansa chased as many of the others off as she could,” she mumbles sleepily.

Arya smiles.

“Tell her thank you.”

“I should say congratulations,” she continues, “I’ve been to a lot of weddings, I don’t think I’ve heard that much laughter come out of a bridal chamber before.”

Arya smiles even wider.

She nods her head in Sansa’s direction.

“Does she make you laugh like that?”

Margaery ducks her head, and Arya lets her be.

Her and Gendry leave, and Arya faces the morning with her head held high, that she, wild Arya Stark, had managed to do something properly.

One by one, the guests begin to leave. Arya squeezes Sansa tight. She’s not quite sure exactly what happened, but Margaery is leaving with her, with no words of a betrothal.

She hugs Jon goodbye too, before he leaves for the Wall again. He doesn’t have to ask her anything, not after she’d caught his eyes on her that morning at breakfast, when Gendry had been idly playing with her hair and she had had a stupid smile on her face.

Over the next days, their things are packed up and they prepare to leave for King’s Landing again.

“Do we really have to go?’ Gendry whines the morning of, “I fucking hated King’s Landing, even if I only got to see the slummy parts.”

“The nice parts were no better,” Arya assures him. She holds his hand as they make their way out to where Ned has the rest of the party waiting to leave.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” she says, brightening, “It takes like a month to get there by the Kingsroad. Maybe by the time we get there, it’ll be gone.”

Gendry looks at her oddly.

“How?”

“Maybe a cache of the Mad King’s wildfire will randomly explode. Maybe a lost Targaryen will come and demand their throne back. Maybe a kraken will rise from the sea and attack the place.”

Gendry laughs, and Arya’s chest fills up with warmth. She knows what to call this feeling, but she won’t. She’s not ready yet, but someday she’ll be ready to say it.

“Whatever we find there, we’ll face it together,” she assures him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Gendry looks down at her, and her heart skips a beat when she wonders if he’ll be the one to say it first.

“Yea. Like you said, we’re a team.”

Arya nods, and there’s a yell from the others, so they go to find their mounts, ride south, and face the future.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #gendrya #fic

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mrlnsfrt · 4 years

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Mental Health, Music, and the Bible

So here we are, 1 Samuel 16:14-23. To be honest I spent a week wavering, unsure if I would tackle this portion of 1 Samuel or just skip over it and hope no one noticed. This is a very challenging portion of scripture and many of the resources I usually use did not address the questions the text brought up in my mind. But as I woke up today and set down to write the post I felt compelled to write on it and also I was able to find one recourse that really helped me gain a better understanding of some of the issues taking place in this narrative. So let’s follow the story and deal with these issues as they come up.

In my last post, Heart Matter, we witnessed the anointing of David as the next king of Israel. Along with the anointing, David also received the spirit of the LORD (1 Samuel 16:13). In this post we follow the progression of events and discover that the spirit of the LORD has departed from Saul.

Choices and Consequences

Saul has been making a series of bad choices.

First, he offered a sacrifice instead of waiting for Samuel as God commanded. (more info at Obedience During Emergencies)

And Samuel said to Saul, “You have done foolishly. You have not kept the commandment of the Lord your God, which He commanded you. For now the Lord would have established your kingdom over Israel forever. But now your kingdom shall not continue. The Lord has sought for Himself a man after His own heart, and the Lord has commanded him to be commander over His people, because you have not kept what the Lord commanded you.” - 1 Samuel 13:13-14 NKJV

Second, Saul made a rash vow and was willing to kill his own son. (more info at Abuse and Misuse of Religion)

Then Saul said to Jonathan, “Tell me what you have done.”

And Jonathan told him, and said, “I only tasted a little honey with the end of the rod that was in my hand. So now I must die!”

Saul answered, “God do so and more also; for you shall surely die, Jonathan.”

But the people said to Saul, “Shall Jonathan die, who has accomplished this great deliverance in Israel? Certainly not! As the Lord lives, not one hair of his head shall fall to the ground, for he has worked with God this day.” So the people rescued Jonathan, and he did not die. - 1 Samuel 14:43-45 NKJV

Finally, God told Saul to completely destroy the Amalekites but Saul spared king Agag and the army took spoils from their defeated enemies. (more info at Mostly Obedient)

Now the Lord sent you on a mission, and said, ‘Go, and utterly destroy the sinners, the Amalekites, and fight against them until they are consumed.’ Why then did you not obey the voice of the Lord? Why did you swoop down on the spoil, and do evil in the sight of the Lord?” - 1 Samuel 15:18-19 NKJV

We must keep these events in mind as we look at Saul in 1 Samuel 16. I would like to highlight that the problem is not so much the poor choices that Saul made, but rather his lack of repentance. We do not see Saul humbling himself and seeking God.

Saul had said, “I have sinned,” but he never repented. No doubt he regretted the consequences that flowed from his preference of self to the will of God; but he still loved to have his own way. The spirit that prompted to set aside God’s command for his own choice was unchanged. It in itself was a state of war; but still it was restive, unsubdued; it chafed under restraint and conviction of rejection, and sometimes would break out in fury that its preferences should thus be chastised. “As a bullock unaccustomed to the yoke.” It is this element of cherished sin, this persistent continuance in the original state of mind that contracted guilt, which poisons the entire life. It sets the whole man at war with God, and renders irksome what to a penitent, lowly heart would be meekly borne. Truly when men sin, and “will have it so” they are so far left to themselves as to work out in their life all manner of miseries.

- Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Ed.). (1909). 1 Samuel (p. 304). London; New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company.

This would be similar to you being completely aware of a sin in your life, but instead of humbling yourself before God and begging His forgiveness, you feel angry at God for making such a big deal out of such a small sin. You’re not sorry about your behavior, you don’t think it’s that bad if bad at all. You’re upset about the consequences that accompany your poor behavior. You’re upset that you can’t just be happy with your choices, but you have no desire to turn to God. You refuse to humbly come to God, even though you’re fully aware of His coming judgment and that you are living your life outside of His will.

Transition

A transition has been coming for a while and now becomes more clear. From this point forward the story is more about David than Saul. Saul is still king, but the story is now about how David became king. In the first 13 verses of 1 Samuel 16, we witness the anointing of David, and now we witness the Spirit of the LORD departing from Saul.

But the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and a distressing spirit from the Lord troubled him. - 1 Samuel 16:14 NKJV

God caused it?

This is a troubling passage. At first glance, it gives the impression of Saul being the victim of God’s bullying. It is challenging to read a text translated from a different language, especially if it was written a long time ago, in a very different place, with a very different culture. The more we read the Old Testament the more we become acquainted with the ancient Hebrew way of thinking. When you consider that God is ultimately in charge than in a way everything that happens had to be allowed by Him. I don’t wish to pursue this too far for it will distract from the main point of this passage but I do want to give you an idea of the Hebrew way of thinking. The story of Job is probably one of the best places to illustrate this point.

There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was blameless and upright, and one who feared God and shunned evil. -Job 1:1

I will super summarize the story and if you’re not familiar I would recommend reading at least the first two and last two chapters of Job. Job is faithful to God and Satan questions Job’s love and devotion to God. God gives Satan permission to cause Job to suffer.

9 So Satan answered the Lord and said, “Does Job fear God for nothing? 10 Have You not made a hedge around him, around his household, and around all that he has on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. 11 But now, stretch out Your hand and touch all that he has, and he will surely curse You to Your face!”

12 And the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your power; only do not lay a hand on his person.”

So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord. -Job 1:9-12 NKJV

So Satan goes off and causes all kinds of destruction and calamities to come upon all that Job possesses. Yet God receives blame for what He allowed Satan to do.

While he was still speaking, another also came and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and consumed them; and I alone have escaped to tell you!” - Job 1:16 NKJB (bold mine)

It looks like God sent fire to destroy Job’s sheep and servants. But we know this was Satan’s fault and not God’s. At the same time, Satan could not touch anything that belonged to Job without God’s permission. Are you beginning to see how it is and isn’t God’s fault?

In chapter Job chapter 6 we witness Job’s suffering from his perspective.

For the arrows of the Almighty are within me; My spirit drinks in their poison; The terrors of God are arrayed against me. - Job 6:4 NKJV (bold mine)

God loves Job, God is not shooting arrows at him, God has not arrayed any terrors against Job. But God gave permission to Satan to do it. Satan delights in causing suffering, he is the enemy Jesus refers to in Matthew 13:28.

The point is that the departure of the Spirit of the LORD allowed for a distressing spirit to come upon Saul. Did God actively send it, or is it described this way because God allowed it by removing His spirit from Saul? Both are possible, my personal preference is that God removed His spirit and Satan jumped at the opportunity to torment the king of Israel.

Mental Health

There are well-meaning Christians who believe that all mental illness is in essence a distressing spirit sent by God or some form of demon possession that can be cured with a stronger devotional life. I have yet to be convinced of this. I believe that prayer helps in all situations. I also believe that God has gifted people in ways that they help others heal. I believe that there are people gifted with the ability to help others heal emotionally and psychologically. I believe that God gives doctors and nurses and others wisdom to help heal the body and counselors, psychologists, and psychiatrists the ability to heal the mind and emotions.

We have people in the Bible who love God and yet suffer from emotionally.

The sons of Korah seem to be struggling with depression and anxiety when they penned the words to Psalm 42.

Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him For the help of His countenance. -Psalm 42:5 NKJV

Jesus also experiences trouble in His soul.

“Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save Me from this hour’? But for this purpose I came to this hour. - John12:27 NKJV

Interestingly both the author of Psalm 42 and Jesus were emotionally intelligent enough to recognize what was happening. The author of Psalm 42 recognizes he is feeling down and disquieted. Things are not going well, he is struggling and feels like God is distant. He knows that he needs to trust in God, he knows that God will save him, even though right now he feels down. You should read the whole Psalm, you can feel the struggle in the words. This man knew God, believed in God, yet his soul was cast down and disquieted.

Similarly, as Jesus approached His death, his soul was troubled, John 12:27. Matthew records the following.

Then He said to them, “My soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even to death. Stay here and watch with Me.” -Matthew 26:38 NKJV

Jesus recognized that He was not well. His soul was exceedingly sorrowful. So Jesus sought the help of His closest friends. He did not want to be alone.

These examples are of people who had not rejected the LORD, were not living in rebellion against God, and still struggled in their innermost being with feeling down. They were aware of their feelings, they understood why they were feeling that way and that God was in control, they had faith, yet they still struggled. When you struggle with feeling down, abandoned, like there is so much sorrow in your life that it might just kill you, Jesus knows what that is like. The inspired writers of the Bible experienced emotional struggles and perhaps would have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety. They sought help, and their faith helped in the battle. I know of pastors who struggle with depression, with anxiety, Godly man and women who need medication due to hormonal imbalances.

There is still so much that we don’t understand about mental health. But in the Bible, even prophets struggle emotionally, sometimes even asking God to kill them.

But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he prayed that he might die, and said, “It is enough! Now, Lord, take my life, for I am no better than my fathers!” 1 Kings 19:4 NKJV

That was Elijah, the prophet who never had the opportunity to die! Talk about unanswered prayers. I have a series on Elijah and part 4, The Depressed Prophet is probably my most read blog of all times. Struggling with mental health is not necessarily a sign of rejecting God. But imagine struggling and not having the assurance that God is in control, that God is loving and merciful, everything will be okay in the end. Do you think that helps or do you think it would make it more difficult?

Saul needs help

Saul’s servants notice that he needs help.

And Saul’s servants said to him, “Surely, a distressing spirit from God is troubling you. Let our master now command your servants, who are before you, to seek out a man who is a skillful player on the harp. And it shall be that he will play it with his hand when the distressing spirit from God is upon you, and you shall be well.” - 1 Samuel 16:15-16 NKJV

Saul’s servants recommend music therapy. If you have ever listened to music you know that music has a special influence on our emotions. Music works in mysterious ways that seem magical. We still have much to learn regarding music, its power, and influence. With that said, we should also be careful with anyone who believes she has it all figured out. I really have to control myself here because I have strong opinions on music and have been involved with it my whole life. But let’s stick to the text we are studying. If Saul is struggling with fits of rage, anxiety, depression, paranoia, etc. (I won’t cite every occurrence for the sake of time but as you read about Saul’s life form this point on you see examples of these.) It makes sense that music would be helpful. Soothing music definitely helps calm the nerves.

Talent Search

And now we witness the birth of Israel’s Got Talent!

So Saul said to his servants, “Provide me now a man who can play well, and bring him to me.” 1 Samuel 16:17 NKJV

As Saul’s servants get busy with auditions and the setting up of the stage and the sale of tickets one of the talent scouts finds David!

Then one of the servants answered and said, “Look, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, who is skillful in playing, a mighty man of valor, a man of war, prudent in speech, and a handsome person; and the Lord is with him.” 1 Samuel 16:18 NKJV

This description is troubling. How much time has gone by since the anointing of David? How old is David? Let’s take a closer look at the text. The word translated as “servant” is נַעַר (naʿar) which can also be an indicator of age meaning this could have been a young man. Why is this significant? Because a boy’s definition of a mighty man of valor is different from that of an adult. Imagine this boy knows David for a few years and witnessed or heard about David bravely fighting off bears and lions? Would this cause this boy to see David as a mighty man of valor? Or imagine David has sent a few would-be sheep thieves away wounded and scared. Maybe this would cause the local children to view him as a warrior while he had never really fought in a war or been a part of a formal army.

Another possibility is that the main point of this story is to transition from Saul to David. This would allow for this story to not be necessarily placed in chronological order but rather thematically. Therefore David is being described as the man that the audience knows him to be, the greatest king Israel ever had. So the narrator would be attributing to David all his qualities and contrasting him with Saul, even if all these qualities have not yet been demonstrated in the sequence of stories as they are being told.

David is a hero, a musician, and most importantly the LORD is with Him, and not with Saul. Saul had been a great man, now he needs the help of David who will ultimately surpass Saul because the LORD was with David.

Saul meets David

King Saul is so impressed with David’s resumé he cancels the talent show, which is really too bad since he never had the chance to listen to the bagpipe player.

Therefore Saul sent messengers to Jesse, and said, “Send me your son David, who is with the sheep.” 20 And Jesse took a donkey loaded with bread, a skin of wine, and a young goat, and sent them by his son David to Saul. 21 So David came to Saul and stood before him. And he loved him greatly, and he became his armorbearer. 22 Then Saul sent to Jesse, saying, “Please let David stand before me, for he has found favor in my sight.” 23 And so it was, whenever the spirit from God was upon Saul, that David would take a harp and play it with his hand. Then Saul would become refreshed and well, and the distressing spirit would depart from him.

- 1 Samuel 16:19-23 NKJV

Once again this verse is troubling. In the next chapter we have Saul not knowing who David is and I wonder again if this is not just a summarized account of how David began to learn about what life was like in the palace and in a sense began the new phase of the preparations to become king. God had provided a way for Saul to train David without Saul knowing that David would be the new king. If Saul had been humble and willing to obey God, perhaps he and David could have been best friends and enjoyed each other’s presence and God’s blessings. But sadly Saul was not interested in following God’s will.

Saul’s Rebellion

I wish to highlight a point I don’t want anyone to miss. Saul was rejected not because he made mistakes but rather because he refused to repent. Saul was not interested in following the will of God and this is why the spirit of the LORD left him. Saul was aware of this and this contributed greatly to his mental breakdown.

Guilty men, who will not sincerely repent and seek rest in Christ, know that judgment is coming, but they take care to hide that truth from others, and often bear a terrible strain on their spirits. - Spence-Jones, H. D. M. (Ed.). (1909). 1 Samuel (p. 304). London; New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company.

The music David played provided a diversion that soothed Saul’s nervous system. However, as we will find out as we continue to read the story, it did not cure Saul. Try to imagine the subduing influence David’s music had on the restless Saul as David poured forth to his harp strains of love and trust and hope in God! But as in all cases of mere diversion, the benefit was transitory. The underlying problem remained. The old fears would eventually come back in force. Saul had not sought the true remedy.

There is a lesson here for all of us. We must stop trying to seek rest and peace apart from God’s loving embrace. You can come to church, listen to Christian music, and find temporary peace and relief, but unless you make Jesus you LORD and Savior, the effects will only be temporary. As long as you continue to embrace a known sin you will not experience the peace the surpasses all understanding, even if you have a personal harp player.

This passage is not about the instrument or the type of music that David played, but rather about David’s relationship with God. Since the spirit of the LORD was with David and David made choices that were in harmony with God’s will, God blessed him and his music and everything he did. If this passage was about the type of music David played we would have been given more details on how to cast out demons through music. But all we have from David’s music is the words. If this passage and others that mention David playing had been descriptive than every church would need to have a harp to help with exorcism along with careful instructions regarding the chords and strum pattern and rhythm.

Call to action

There is one main thing that I want you to take away from this study, and that is your need for a deeper relationship with God. A relationship that clings to God when your soul is troubled, distressed, and downcast. A relationship that submits to the will of God even when it not your will (Luke 22:42). A faith that refuses to let go of God even if you feel like He is causing your suffering. A relationship where you know God as your personal Savior and not just the God of your parents, or spouse, or friend.

Do not hold on to sins that you know are keeping you from God. Turn to God, humble yourself, accept His will, and receive His salvation.

This will not make life easy, but it will guarantee your victory.

#Mental health #Music #Old Testament #Narrative #David

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