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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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Practice Makes Perfect

A/N: You know I had to. Can you tell I have studied rhetorics at uni?

Summary: You are Mr. Ted Garcia’s political advisor and you help him with practicing his upcoming speech.

Pairing: Ted Garcia x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, oral sex m receiving, strip tease, dirty talk, verbal humiliation, praise kink, come swallowing, face-fucking

Word count: 2.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54597913

Practice Makes Perfect

“Go over it again,” you order as you are perched on the desk, one leg crossed over the other by the knee and your red-bottom stiletto dangling from your toes. You are gripping the edge of the table, and whereas your position looks downright sinful, the smile on your face sports innocence, “Go on, Mr. Re-elected Mayor.”

Ted whips around to face you, reaching up to loosen the knot on his tie. He smiles, a little uncertain of what to make of you, “You don’t know that yet, sweetheart.”

“I know you won’t win the reelection if you don’t practice,” you shrug your shoulders and then move your hands to lean back on your arms.

“I’ve gone over it a million times,” he says with a sigh, “Would much rather call it a day and order some food. We haven’t had Chinese in a while, have we?”

“Ted,” you stop him, “I need the speech tomorrow to be absolutely flawless. I’m your advisor; it’ll reflect badly on me if you stumble. Not to mention, I’m a woman so I have to work twice as hard to earn the public’s respect. They probably think you hired me to suck cock. That’s what they’re saying anyway.”

“Didn’t I?” He jokes and steps towards you.

You glare at him but there’s no malice in it, “I could get you fired for that statement, you know.”

“I should fire you for being so distracting,” he retorts. When he gets close enough, he reaches out to curl a strong hand around your thigh and uncrosses your legs. He steps between them but you shake your head when he tries to lean over you.

“Go over it again,” you repeat. You lean back a little further until you are able to lift your leg and place your heel on his chest, pushing him backward and away from you. He follows your silent order of staying back but still grabs your ankle hard enough to make you shiver.

“From the top,” you say to not lose face.

“And if I don’t, Ms. Advisor?” He challenges.

“You’ll regret it,” you tease him by sounding almost bored, “Try and see what happens.”

Ted sighs and lets go of your leg, simultaneously letting go of the idea of getting to fuck you as a way of ending his work day. He moves back to the center of his office, clears his throat, and shakes his arms as if trying to loosen up his tense body, “Right, let’s give it another go.”

You cross your legs again and wait. He is going to have no idea what hits him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of our beloved city, as I stand before you today, I am filled with hope and optimism for the future of our city…” He begins and his tone is laced with a charm that you know better than to believe. Others, however, will eat it up.

“Very good, Ted,” you praise when he is a few more lines in. He meets your eyes for approval, a playful smirk on his lips. You wipe it off his face not a moment after, having reached up to unbutton your shirt until it falls open and reveals your lace bra, “Continue.”

Ted’s gaze shamelessly lingers on your chest for a few seconds before he does as he is told. It is so easy, like Pavlov’s dog.

“We stand at a crossroads, where the decisions we make today will shape the trajectory of our city for generations to come,” he speaks with confidence, fuelled by the shirt falling off your shoulders and pooling around you on the desk. He looks deep in thought as he tries to remember the keywords that guide him forward in his speech but when you let a shoe fall to the floor, only to let the other one follow, he looks up to satisfy his curiosity, “And I believe that embracing technology is not just an option, but a necessity if we are to thrive in the 21st century.”

“God, you are killing it, Mr. Garcia,” you are only in your skirt and bra now but the bra won’t stay on for much longer. You reach up behind you to unclasp it but there’s no follow-through. You raise a brow in disapproval, “Well?”

“Fuck, where was I?” He runs a hand through his hair. You don’t blame him for forgetting because he doesn’t seem to have blood in his brain right now; it appears to have gone south where he is tenting in his suit pants.

“A mayor doesn’t swear,” you tut with a little shake of your head, hand still in a waiting position to expose your tits to him. You decide to help him, “My vision for our city…”

“My vision for our city is one where technology serves as a catalyst for positive change!” His voice is slightly louder than normal as if relief floods him because he knows by now that remembering will get him to see you naked. He straightens, “Where innovation brings economic growth, and where every person has the opportunity to succeed.”

You undo your bra and let the straps fall down your arms until you teasingly drop it onto the floor. Your breasts are exposed to the air conditioning unit sending out cold air in the mayor’s office, immediately causing your nipples to harden at the temperature drop. You let out a teasing moan and jump off the desk to make your tits bounce obscenely, “I wanna hear more, Ted. Please.”

“I— uhh,” his gaze is fixed on your chest.

You place a hand on the skirt’s zipper along your side, teasingly pulling it down along your thigh. It seems to kickstart his memory again, “Where smart infrastructure optimizes traffic flow, reduces energy consumption for a greener future, and - Jesus, baby - and thus enhances public safety. A city where access to high-speed internet and the newest devices is not a luxury, but a fundamental right…”

“God, you are so sexy like this,” you say with a grin, hoping that he catches onto the way your eyes drop to his mouth when he speaks, “Nearly convincing me, baby.”

You start to wiggle your hips to get out of your pencil skirt, causing your whole body to shake as you move the fabric down over your legs. It makes Mayor Candidate Ted Garcia’s whole brain go dumb because he stops reciting his speech altogether and simply admires the way your breasts jump with every movement of your lower body.

“Did I tell you to stop?” You ask when the skirt lies in the pile with your bra and shoes. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of your matching lace panties, “Just a little more.”

“But you’re nearly undressed,” he points out and hits his chest to clear his throat when his voice seems to have gone up an octave. He looks almost pained when you stop any motion to step out of your underwear.

“Listen, here’s what’s going to happen,” you move to stand in front of him with only inches between the two of you, “You’ll make the rest of the speech I wrote with your sexy, big cock in my mouth, and I won’t make you finish until you’re finished.”

Ted swallows thickly. He nods and tries to be cocky one last time during your relentless teasing, “You sure I didn’t hire you because of your fellatio skills?”

“Why don’t you use your own tongue instead of worrying about mine and make those little words roll off it?” You bite back, “One more line.”

“H-however, embracing technology is about a lot more than just improving efficiency,” he tries his best not to stutter too much. Oh, you cannot wait to hear him lose it when you close your lips around his beautiful cock.

“Mhm, what’s it about then?” You encourage. The panties come off then, pooling around your feet until you kick them to the side.

“It's also about fostering a culture of innovation and entrepreneurship,” he replies with his eyes between your thighs to watch your throbbing cunt. Despite your cool demeanor, you have never wanted him more than right now, and seeing him desperate and faltering because of something you have done is a feeling out of this world.

You sink to your knees with a dirty smile, keeping your eyes on him the whole time to watch the satisfying sight of his burning desire corrupting his concentration. You wish to tell him that he is so good today, that he hadn’t lied about going over the speech a million times.

You settle for showing it instead, undoing the button on his black slacks and then the zipper. He twitches behind the fabric. You are salivating by now, aching between your thighs to taste him on your tongue. You pull out his cock with little effort, grinning mischievously up through your lashes as it springs free and nearly hits your cheek.

“I’ll start dripping on your floor if you get it right, don’t you want that?” You say it and then start to gather spit in your mouth, preparing yourself for his generous size to slide past your lips.

“I want that,” he breathes, “Fuck yes, I want that.”

“Then tell me what you envision,” you hint and then you take him into your hot, waiting mouth. He tastes so fucking good, heavy on your tongue as you relax your jaw until he stabs the back of your throat.

He sucks in a breath as you hollow your cheeks and slowly pull off, only to repeat the move again and again, “I envision our city attracting the brightest minds from around the globe to come—“

You hum around his girth at the choice of word, a giggle bubbling up in your throat. The vibration of your noise makes Ted settle a hand on top of your bobbing head, ready to yank if it becomes too much and he needs release right then and there. He corrects himself professionally but falters once more because you moan at the taste of his precome oozing from the tip, “I mean work together and create the next huge— b-big thing.”

You reach underneath his dick to cup his balls and massage them in your palm, working your lips up and down his shaft simultaneously. You have to breathe deeply through your nose, resulting in your neck muscles tightening slightly while he speaks.

Ted moans out loud for the first time then, having gone past simply stuttering and swearing. He looks down at you with a slack jaw, and when he stays quiet for just a little too long, you start to pull off. He sounds panicked, yelling out a no.

“Of course, with great technological advancements come great responsibilities. We must be vigilant in protecting the privacy and security of our citizens,” as soon as he starts again, you go back into it with even more enthusiasm, removing your hand from his balls to reach up and grip his hip. You pull at it to show him what you want, and he breaks the long streak he has had with simply reciting his speech for tomorrow, “You want me to fuck that dirty little mouth? Huh?”

You moan in confirmation, nodding with his cock far down your throat. The eyes you send him have him breathing hard and nodding repeatedly, doing an experimental thrust, “Yeah, that’s what you want. You just wanna please your local elected official, you little slut.”

He can’t fail now. You furrow your brow up at him, trying to look displeased despite how wet you are right there on the floor. He catches on, tries his best to talk comprehensively whilst sliding wetly and repeatedly past the very tight space at the back of your mouth, “R-right, where was I? Shit, that’s right. That's why I will do everything in my power to implement the correct measures and promote trans - fuuuck - parency.”

You press your thighs together when you hear him moan through the end of his speech. He sounds so sexy that you can’t imagine stopping even if he doesn’t get to the last word, and you whimper around his thick cock to push him closer to the edge.

It’s the first tear that falls from your eye that has him on the brink but he still powers through, “Together, we can use the power of technology to build a city where innovation knows no bounds, and where the sky is truly the limit.”

You are sure it looks like you’ve pissed yourself with how wet you are by now, a patch having formed underneath your dripping cunt. You move your hips to find some kind of friction but to no avail. Above you, Ted rounds off his speech.

“So I ask you, my fellow citizens - fuck, honey, I’m gonna come… I’m gonna come right in your pretty mouth, ah, ah, a-almost - uhh, to join me on this journey towards a brighter future,” he thrusts his hips even faster at this point, his pitch climbing until he is whining instead of talking. The way you can feel his pulse on your lips lets you know that he isn’t lying, so you allow him to fuck your throat frantically even if it hurts a little, “Let us embrace technology with open arms, and together, we will— we will— shit, we will build a city that we can be proud to call home. Thank you!”

He comes as soon as he has said those last two words, and they become his mantra as he spills down your throat with several twitches of his cock that simply will not stop, “Thank you, oh fuck, thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

You swallow greedily, sucking him completely clean until he shakes his head in oversensitivity and pulls out of your mouth. He tastes like himself and power, enough to get you drunk.

“You are fucking fantastic,” he groans when tucking himself back into his pants. He crouches down to meet you at eye level, marveling at the way you are practically fucking yourself onto the air, “My sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I need you,” you pant with tear-streaked cheeks.

“Here’s an idea since I did so well,” he starts, reaching into his pocket to hand you his phone, “How about you call and order us some food and I rub your cute little clit while you do it? Then we’ll see who is the real professional orator here.”

You want to reply but you can barely press the number of his favorite Chinese place and you almost come the second he touches between your thighs.

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 7 months

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chapter xxii – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,000+

masterlist

Y/N spent the next three weeks hiding in her workroom, making various potions and charms and candles – and anything else that would help the human women and children who now had sanctuary in the Forest House. Many of them could not sleep due to nightmares or anxiety, feeling like they were still in danger. Others had other mental hurdles that prevented them from even finding the will to live.

So, Y/N had been working day and night, casting remedies for it all with her witchcraft.

She had barely been sleeping. Even worse, she was barely eating.

Servants would politely knock on her door and silently bring her giant plates of food for every meal – and even small plates of snacks. But as soon as they left, Y/N would forget the food was ever brought in the first place. She would just get sucked right back into working.

But the humans weren’t the only thing haunting her.

Y/N hadn’t seen Eris since her confession in the woods.

Surprisingly, it was because he had respected her request to give them space.

But she heard the people of the Forest House, and they gossiped in whispers.

Eris had apparently been working himself to exhaustion, visiting various villages across Autumn Court, speaking with the common folk, and delegating tasks to his advisors.

The wind constantly urged Y/N to go to him. But she managed to ignore their constant torment.

Y/N now worked on making a tea for the young humans who were anxious as ever, despite now being safe in Autumn Court. She understood that the fae realm was strange and scary – especially after their first exposure to the realm was nothing but torture.

Suddenly, the door to her workshop was thrown open.

The five bloodhounds napping near it jumped to attention and growled menacingly.

Lucien came strutting in, clearly on some sort of mission.

The dogs snarled at his interruption and lunged for him.

And if it weren’t for the invisible shield Lucien had clearly conjured with a lazy flick of his wrist, his ankles surely would’ve been torn apart by their jaws.

Y/N quickly looked back down at her work, not even acknowledging his entrance.

“I’m busy,” she muttered with obvious annoyance.

“Well, now…” Lucien announced as he got into her space, forcing her to address his presence. “You are taking a break.”

He stood against her worktable, blocking Y/N from continuing her brewing.

“Lucien, I do not have the mental energy to deal with your antics today. I have work to do.”

“And it will be here when we return. But for now, you are going on a walk in the woods with me.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Can’t you find some pretty courtier to entertain you?”

Lucien smirked. “But spending time with a woman who finds me irritating is so much more exciting.” Then his face turned serious as he studied her face, noting the shadows under her bloodshot eyes. “Come, Y/N. You haven’t left this room in weeks. The servants say you ignore every meal they bring you. And Eris…”

He stopped when he noticed her reaction from someone merely mentioning his brothers name.

“Well, we don’t need to talk about him right now,” he finally finished.

Y/N sighed, and then glanced outside.

When was the last time she’d left the walls of the Forest House? Perhaps some fresh air would do her good. And then she could get back to her work.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But the hounds are coming with and I don’t care if they bite you.”

All she could hear was Lucien chuckling behind her as she walked out of the workroom.

———

Lucien had insisted on Y/N wearing a cloak, but couldn’t convince her to put on boots – or any shoes for that matter.

“What’s the point of a walk if you can’t feel the ground beneath your feet?” Y/N scoffed at him.

“If you get frostbite and lose a toe, Eris will kill me…” Lucien muttered, barely loud enough for her to hear him.

To Y/N’s surprise, Lucien allowed a peaceful silence to settle between the two of them as they walked through the forest surrounding the property.

No guards insisted on joining them, so they must be safe enough to be unchaperoned.

However, they still had five smoke hounds surrounding them. They now sniffed the ground with precision, never straying too far from Y/N. Every so often, they would trot up to her, asking for pets or licking her hand.

“You know, they eventually will learn how to live again and without fear.” Lucien told her gently after some time.

Y/N just sighed.

“Humans are stronger than most fae give them credit for. They’re resilient and overcome such terrible things. They have to. Their lives are fleeting, to do otherwise would be a waste of a short and fragile life.”

Y/N glared at him. “Our lives,” she corrected. “Our lives are fleeting.”

Lucien watched her carefully.

“I see Eris told you of our last conversation…” she mumbled with irritation.

“Well, I had to force it out of him after he started snapping at everyone who dared look at him for longer than a second.” He looked Y/N up and down. “Believe it or not, he looks worse than you do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, you are always so kind, Lucien.”

“When did you start to think so little of yourself?” He countered.

“E-Excuse me?”

“Do you really think Eris cares about you being a mortal or without noble blood? I thought you of all people could see through his mask and see him for who is truly is. And does that really seem like a concern that would prevent him from loving you?”

“Do you hear how advisors and envoys from other Courts speak of Feyre? To them she is an ignorant child. Hardly unhuman. She still is learning so much about the ways of the fae.”

Lucien scoffed. “Only a fool would underestimate Feyre. She is the only reason we were freed from our curse. And she may also be the only reason we won the war against Hybern.”

Y/N stopped walking. “Why is Feyre a High Lady? She is the only female with such a title. Your mother is only the Lady of Autumn.”

“Because Rhysand wanted an equal. He values his mate's opinion and ethics – as he should. He is progressive in a way most fae will fail to ever understand. Could you imagine Beron Vanserra seeing my mother as anything more than his breeder?”

Y/N said nothing, but openly cringed at the word 'breeder.'

“And dare I say…if you truly believed yourself so undeserving of a similar title, then why do you hide away in the libraries of the Forest House, learning everything you can of Autumn Court and the politics of the fae realm?”

Y/N glared at him. “I do not wish to be ignorant.”

Lucien smirked knowingly. “Aye. That is precisely my point.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Why are you so invested in our relationship, Lucien? Recently, you have inserted yourself in a way that you have usually avoided in the past.”

Any mischievous expression that was left on his face had disappeared. He frowned and his eyes held sympathy.

“I believe my time here in the Autumn Court is coming to a close.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “W-W-What? Why?”

“Yes, my banishment has been lifted. But this place holds far too many bad memories. My nightmares are filled with them. I don’t think I was ever meant to return. I feel as if I was never meant to be in this Court at all...”

“B-But where will you go? Back to Night Court?”

“Most likely. Being away from my mate – despite her ignoring my existence – starts to take a toll on me.”

“You ache for her?” Y/N asked him gently.

Lucien blushed and hesitated before he finally nodded.

“Well, who will I make fun of and torment?” Y/N teased.

But before she could answer, a noise caught her attention.

Y/N held up her hand, signaling for Lucien to also listen. Which was silly, his fae hearing had picked it up long before she had.

“It is just a fox cry,” Lucien pointed out.

Then a small wind passed through and he knew she wasn’t listening to him.

“Not just a fox cry,” Y/N answered and started to follow the sound.

Then she suddenly remembered the smoke hounds that were surrounding them.

Y/N whistled to get their attention. And they whipped around to face her, waiting for her next command.

“Stay with Lucien,” she ordered them gently. “And don’t bite him.”

They all started whining, not liking her to go anywhere without them being able to follow.

Y/N rushed forward following invisible directions.

She didn’t stop until she found the source of the noise. And just around a cluster of trees, she found it.

A red fox kit, shivering underneath the trunk of a giant oak tree.

Y/N rushed forward, but then slowed when she just a few feet away.

The kit eyed her, still shaking from the cold and probably fear.

“Y/N, don’t touch it.” Lucien called out, having followed her a few steps behind, with the smoke hounds at his heels.

Y/N ignored him and kneeled in front of the kit. “Hello there. No need to be afraid. I won't hurt you.”

“Its mother will come back for it,” Lucien tried to tell her.

Then a gust of wind passed through, shaking the dry leaves like a chorus.

“No, it’s all alone,” Y/N called over her shoulder to him. Clearly, the wind had told her. “His mother was killed by hunters. He’s been here for days, waiting for her.”

She turned back to the kit. “Come on, little one. I will look after you. I know those dogs over there seem big and scary, but I won’t let them harm you.”

The kit let out a little whimper.

“I know you want your mama. But she isn’t coming back. I’m so sorry. But I will keep you safe.”

Then the kit shakily walked toward Y/N.

As he did, she took off her cloak, preparing to wrap up the shivering fox in it.

“What shall we name you?” Y/N asked the kit gently, as she stood with it wrapped cozily in her arms.

The wind brushed through her hair, and Y/N giggled at what they said. “The wind thinks we should call you Ronan. How does that sound?”

The kit squeaked out a happy noise.

“Ronan it is then,” Y/N answered back with a smile.

But when she turned to walk back to the others, Lucien was staring at her strangely.

“What? What is it?”

Lucien blinked, snapping himself out of it. “Nothing. It is only…there was once a tradition in Autumn Court. High Lords would gift their Lady of Autumn a fox kit to raise. Obviously the tradition hasn’t been practiced since before Beron’s time.”

“O-Ohh,” Y/N managed to stutter out.

What was he trying to say?

“Foxes are sacred animals in this Court,” Lucien continued. “Though they are tricky to tame, once you do, they are fiercely loyal creatures.”

“So why are you looking at me like that?” She asked.

“The Cauldron works in mysterious ways,” was all he would give her. “Come. Let us get our new friend home.”

Ronan almost instantly fell asleep as Y/N carried him to the Forest House. The kit already trusted her to keep him safe.

Y/N started muttering to him as they entered the gates. “We will get you the softest bed. And I will feed you fresh fruit and I’ll sneak the best cuts of meats for you. You will be spoiled rotten, Ronan.”

“Motherly instinct has already kicked in, has it?” Lucien teased.

But he didn’t expect for her entire body to stiffen.

“I have no desire to be a mother,” she answered darkly before she could stop herself.

That was when Lucien put together a whole different argument for Y/N forcing distance between her and Eris.

His posture straightened and his mouth opened slightly. Without thinking, he blurted out. “You are worried about an heir.”

It didn’t come out as a question; it was a statement.

Lucien now looked at her as if he could read her very mind, like a daemati. He could see every one of her fears on display. And she just stood their, as vulnerable as ever.

Before Y/N could defend herself or come up with some blatant lie, the guards around them stood at attention and turned to face the direction of the Forest House’s main entrace. And they bowed slightly.

Eris stood at the open door, watching the two of them.

It was the first time he and Y/N had seen each other since the lake.

And the two of them couldn’t take their eyes off one another. Their gazes locked.

“Leave us,” Eris gently commanded without looking away.

All Y/N could do was hear the shuffling of armor as Lucien and his guards quickly made their escape from the front courtyard, leaving her with the male she had been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

“And who is this?” Eris finally broke the silence, pointing to the fox.

Y/N clutched the kit tighter. “This is Ronan.”

Eris didn’t question her further. Instead he blindsided her with a subject change. “You haven’t been eating.”

She blinked in confusion, then recovered by glaring at him.

“I have respected your wishes to keep my distance these past few weeks,” Eris continued. “But when my guards and servants say you have not been eating nor sleeping, I will ignore such a request.”

“I am fine,” Y/N defied him.

Eris lifted a brow, challenging her.

But she was too tired to pick a fight.

“Come,” Eris gestured behind him toward the Forest House.

And she begrudgingly followed.

The two of them didn’t speak as they walked down the winding halls.

Eris didn’t stop until they were in the grand banquet hall.

There was a feast already prepared on the table. It could’ve fed a royal party. But there were only two dining chairs set at the long table.

“This is far too much food,” Y/N muttered.

“Yes, so you will not have the excuse of disliking the options,” he countered.

And before she could say anything else, he added, “None of it will go to waste. Whatever you don’t eat will be shared with others.”

For good measure, he sent her warning look and pointed at a chair. “Sit, Y/N. And eat.”

Y/N knew there was no use arguing about this. And the smell of the food alone made her realize how hungry she was. Her stomach ached from the emptiness.

She slowly sat with Ronan in her lap, who was fast asleep.

“And are you here to simply watch me?” Y/N asked Eris.

“No, I’m joining you.” He answered as he pulled out the other chair.

Y/N listened to her stomach and grabbed a few things that seemed appetizing, but also would give her fuel to continue working rigorously.

As if Eris knew she was already thinking about getting back to work, he commented. “The humans are in good health. I have my finest soldiers guarding them at all times. I even sent some of the hounds there to play with the children.”

“I know,” Y/N mumbled. Her eyes flickered up to his. “I know you will not let any harm come to them while they are here.”

He blinked. “Then why will you not rest?”

“If I can keep helping them, then I must.”

Eris sighed. “I am not telling you to stop. I am asking that you find balance. You will be helping no one if you are not taking care of yourself. Eating consistent meals and getting a full night’s rest is part of that.”

“I know,” Y/N repeated quietly.

Eris seemed taken aback by her submission. He was fully prepared for her to spend the whole meal arguing with him. But it only proved how exhausted she must be.

Without allowing himself to think of stopping, Eris’ hand reached toward Y/N’s face and cupped her cheek so gently.

“Please, talk to me.”

His words were pleading. His eyes desperate.

Her eyes teared up, but she blinked to control her emotions. “I-I-I’m just tired.”

“Yes, I know.” Eris agreed, but his look indicated that it was obvious there was something more than her general exhaustion.

“I do not like being away from you,” Y/N finally admitted quietly. “But I know it is what we must do.”

If she was less tired, she would never have allowed herself to speak such words.

Eris sighed and finally leaned back in his chair, dropping his hand from her cheek. “What I must do to convince you that it isn’t?”

But Y/N just shook her head, quietly begging him not to have this conversation right now.

As if sensing her turmoil, Ronan woke up startled. Then he took in Eris and growled as menacingly as a little, helpless kit could.

Y/N giggled as the ridiculousness of it brought her out of her gutter of emotions and cut the tension that had been building.

“Hush. None of that,” Y/N laughed before kissing the top of Ronan’s head.

Eris gave her a look, silently asking, ‘Are you going to explain this to me now?’

“I found him in the woods,” her voice sad as she explained. “His mother was killed by hunters. I’m going to look after him now.”

“You have a kind heart, Y/N.” Eris explain softly. “Any in need within your reach, you help. But when will you allow others to do the same for you?”

She couldn’t answer such a question. Instead, she stroked Ronan’s head and went back to eating.

The two ate in silence for the rest of the meal.

Eris didn’t stop eating until Y/N did, not wanting to give her a reason for finishing before she was actually full.

“I am sorry,” Y/N told him.

He gave her a questioning look.

“For worrying you.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I will always be worried about you, Y/N.”

And they both heard the unsaid possibilities with such words.

If she were to truly leave Autumn Court and Prythian altogether, how much sleep would Eris lose worrying about his mate being away from him, living a life without him? Could someone worry themselves so sick that they left the living completely?

“Come,” Eris stood and walked behind her chair to pull it out. “I will walk you to your bedroom.”

Silence once again settled between them.

But any time Eris got somewhat close to Y/N, Ronan would give him a warning growl. Clearly it hardly took any time for the little fox to grow attached to Y/N – and protective.

“Now I know how Lucien feels with my smoke hounds…” Eris muttered with a smirk.

“You don’t mind that I’ve taken him in?” Y/N finally asked.

“If it will make you happy, you could take on a dragon as a pet. However, it is not all that unusual for the ladies of this Court to take foxes as companions.”

“So I’ve heard…”

Eris nodded. “Did you learn that from your reading or from my loudmouthed brother?”

Y/N smiled. “The latter. He said the Cauldron worked in mysterious ways...but didn't elaborate."

His face turned serious. “Yes, it does.”

They were at he bedchambers just a moment later.

Eris stalled. “Goodnight, Y/N. Do try and get some rest tonight.”

—🍁—🍁—

Y/N shot up in bed, gasping for breath from a nightmare.

She was covered in sweat and had even soaked her nightgown, as well as the bedding.

Then she looked around and immediately found another reason for it: the fire at the other end of the room was roaring and none of the windows were open.

Strange. She always opened all of them before going to sleep.

No wonder she had sweat through everything, her room was like an oven. And the wind that comforted her every night while she slept had been kept out.

But then images of her nightmare flashed in her mind.

Her sister, eyes staring lifelessly up at the full-moon sky. Her dead child in her arms along with her.

Y/N had repressed the memory for so long, hardly allowing herself to think of her sister.

But Lucien bringing up motherhood and heirs earlier that day must have unlocked it from deep within her subconscious.

She shook her head as if the movement would erase the memories.

Then she slowly got out of bed to open the windows.

But as soon as she would swing one open, the wind would slam it shut.

Y/N glared at the gesture. “What are you playing at?”

She tried another window, and the wind did the same.

“Do you wish for me to roast alive?”

But the wind was not taking her sass.

Suddenly, a tornado-like gust flew into the room, whipping all the windows open.

“Go…to…him.” The wind called. “Do…not…be…alone.”

Then the windows all slammed shut in unison.

It should’ve made Y/N jump, but she'd grown accustomed to their dramatics.

And they were right: she didn’t want to be alone. And she definitely didn’t want to try to go back to sleep, fearing that she’d see more of her sister’s cold, dead body.

Forgoing a shawl or robe, Y/N tiptoed down the halls.

When she reached her destination, her fist hovered over the door.

But before she could knock, the door flung open.

“Oh,” Y/N gasped. “I…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you.”

There stood Eris, looking somewhat alarmed. He was shirtless, only wearing sleep shorts that stopped midway down his thighs. His hair was slightly messy, proving that he had been sleeping at some point – or at least trying to.

“What’s wrong?” Eris asked.

“Did you know it was me at the door?”

“Of course. I can smell you,” he explained as if it were obvious.

Eris could also feel her in his heart and his soul. She was his mate, after all. But he kept that bit to himself.

“Right,” she answered, feeling stupid for even asking.

He took a step closer to her. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Her answer hurried out, not wanting to alarm him. “It was just…I had a nightmare. A-A-And the wind is being cruel, making my room far too hot.”

But she quickly shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said once again. “I shouldn’t have woken you.”

She tried to make her escape, turning to leave.

Then she was suddenly being scooped up into Eris’ arms.

She squeaked in surprise and her arms gripped his shoulders by instinct.

He carried her fully into his bedchambers and kicked the door closed behind him.

“Eris, put me down!” But her voice was anything but stern.

“No.”

Then they were in his bedroom. And though it was nighttime, the moon still clearly displayed the giant windows taking up an entire wall. And they were all open, letting in the brisk night air.

‘Traitors,’ Y/N thought to herself.

Then Y/N realized that she’d never been in Eris' room before. Well, she stayed in his old room. But this was clearly a chamber for a High Lord, and it showed.

“This is unnecessary…” she groaned when Eris walked toward the giant bed.

He ignored her, of course, and gently placed her on the side of his bed.

Y/N expected him to jump right in along with her. But instead he took a step back and kneeled in front of her, forearms balancing on his knees.

“You have two choices: you can either tell me about your nightmare or you can keep it to yourself. But either way, I am sleeping in this bed beside you. Is that understood?”

Y/N was taken aback by his calm, yet unmoving, authority.

Realizing that he was expecting some sort of response, all she could mange was a stiff nod.

He waited a few moments to see if she would speak.

Instead, Y/N laid down in his bed, turning so her back faced him and pulled the covers high over her shoulders.

Eris sighed and stood, walking over to the other side of the bed.

He slowly and carefully joined her under the covers, making sure to keep a respectable distance between them. Which was fairly easy with how large the bed was.

He settled on his side, watching Y/N as she got lost in her head.

When he stopped moving, the room was filled with the crackling of the fire in the room that was much lower and calmer than the one in Y/N’s room.

A rumbling of thunder started in the distance and rain began to fall outside.

“I dreamt of my sister,” Y/N whispered.

Eris just waited, silently hoping his mate would keep speaking.

“She died in childbirth.”

He shifted ever so closer. “I thought your entire coven was killed by a nearby village.”

“They were,” Y/N muttered. “This was only a year before that. She had fallen in love with man from the village before the one that slaughtered us. He was smitten…but he did not love her the same way she loved him. Men were not common companions of ours. They either feared us – or wished to tame us and rip us away from our coven to take us for themselves.”

Her eyes glazed over at the memory.

“She thought he would travel with us, that she could have a family and her coven. It only took a couple of months before she was with child. But just weeks before the baby was due, there were complications and she went into labor. And even with a whole coven of magic, we couldn’t save her. They said that the man had cursed her – whether he realized it or not – and the magic was too strong to save her. He wasn’t even there when it happened."

Her voice shook as she finished. "I held my sister’s hand as the life left her body. Her baby didn’t survive.”

Tears dripped down Y/N’s face.

“We had a ceremony for her... and he didn't come. It was like he had never met her at all. He took what he wanted, and didn’t mourn my sister. But he was the only reason she was dead.”

Y/N rubbed the tears from her face.

“What was her name?” Eris asked her gently.

A sad smile pulled at her lips. “Neve. Her name was Neve.”

Eris couldn’t help himself any longer. He pulled Y/N to him, cradling her into his warm chest.

He kissed the top of her head before he whispered in her ear. “I am sorry that you lost her – and in such a manner.”

“I thought I was so alone after she died. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the loneliness when all of them were taken from me.”

Eris’ pupils shrunk as he got a dazed look. “I grew up in a home filled with servants, advisors, courtiers, my brothers. But…” His words died out. Perhaps it was selfish to compare his life to hers.

But Y/N squeezed him.

“The worst loneliness is felt while surrounded by others,” Y/N offered sympathetically. “Yes, I lost my family, my coven…but to live as you did – and for centuries! I am sorry for you, too.”

Eris pulled away from her so he could look in her eyes.

“Y/N, we do not have to be alone anymore.”

She gave him a pained look. So, Eris wouldn’t push her.

“At least for tonight,” he corrected slowly. “We will not be.”

He pulled her into his chest again. “Sleep, Y/N. I will fight your nightmares.”

And it only took her minutes of listening to the sounds of the rain mix with Eris’ soft breathing and smelling his autumn scent for her to give in to sleep.

—🍁—🍁—

The next morning, banging at the bedroom door startled Y/N awake. Either Eris had heard the interrupter long before her or he had already been awake for awhile, because he barely reacted to the sound.

Though with Eris’ magic, no one was permitted to enter without his permission.

Y/N was sleeping on top of Eris’ chest as he sat with his back against the headboard and his arms wrapped around her.

“Eris!” Lucien yelled as he continued to bang. “Y/N has gone missing! She was not in her room and she slept through her lessons! No one has seen her in the house all morning!”

Eris and Y/N shared a mischievous look, but still didn’t move away from each other.

Suddenly, Y/N couldn’t stop herself from falling into a fit of giggles. When Eris smirked down at her, she stopped, moved away from him, and hid under the covers.

With a groan, Eris got up and moved to the door.

Even just the subtle action of opening the door was done with clear irritation. “She is fine,” he growled at his youngest brother.

Lucien looked over his shoulder just in time to see Y/N peak out from the covers, her face clearly hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, good.” Lucien’s tone was sarcastic, but it was clear he was honestly relieved to see her alright. “Mother wishes to prepare you for the coronation.”

“W-What?” Y/N stuttered out her confusion as she sat up in bed.

Lucien glared at his brother. “You didn’t tell her.”

Eris rolled his eyes. “We both know this is an unnecessary spectacle…”

Lucien glared harder, then turned his attention to Y/N. “An official celebration for Eris becoming High Lord. It will be a grand ordeal, I assure you. And my mother was looking for you to get your dress fittings started.”

––––––––

Thank you thank you thank you for being patient with me. Also, thank you to everyone you messaged kind and supportive words. hope this was worth the wait. 😅

Chapter XXIII

#gust & flame #eris vanserra #eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #autumn court #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #high lord of autumn #lucien vanserra

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thelightsandtheroses · 10 months

Text

Secret Smile: Checks and Balances (Chapter Three)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose. Word Count: 3.4k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, mentions of alcohol, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used. Author Notes - Thank you for all your comments, reblogs so far - they mean a lot. As always your comments and feedback are deeply appreciated, I’d love to know what you think of the chapter and fic so far. There is a Narcos Easter Egg in this chapter and if anyone catches it, please please let me know by sending me a comment or ask - I am super curious to see if anyone notices it. The gorgeous banner is by @/wildemaven

Chapter Two| Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

If ten years ago you had told your younger self that you’d be working with Javier Peña to bring down a cartel while you were living in Colombia, you would have laughed.

You would have laughed a lot at the sheer absurdity of it all.

You might, however, have thought how great that scenario could be. While Javier was always your brother’s friend and not yours, ten years ago you liked him and would have thought that he’d make a good colleague. He was smart, he was funny and he didn’t make you feel awful every time Rafa also drove you to the mall at the weekend like most of Rafa’s friends did. His other friends acted like there was decades between you rather than just a few years.

If Javier actually wanted you here with him, was open to working with you, perhaps things would be different. It might even feel more like you could have imagined it would.

He doesn’t want you here though; it’s clear he doesn’t want anyone in this role, but also that somehow it’s worse for him that it’s you.

You ended yesterday with a tentative peace but it feels so unsteady, so easily broken.

None of this is what you anticipated when you took this job. You were supposed to be escaping a difficult work environment by leaving the country in the first place. What you had told your friends was an adventure, an experience you needed to have while you still could, is actually turning out to just be a repeat of the same old challenges in a different setting.

The coffee and food’s pretty good though. You wonder if it’s worth it just for that.

Your coffee pot hisses on the gas stove as you make your way up to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. You barely slept last night so you’ve already been up for some time and are planning on getting into the office early.

Your apartment is one of the many the embassy provides for its staff. It’s plain and the furnishings are basic, but you’re comfortable here. You’re based on the ground floor, so you don’t have to worry about the stairs. The main living area walls are a little faded now and the paint colour falls somewhere between orange and peach. The apartment is surprisingly spacious though, however after living in such a small apartment in DC it could just be your perception.

You’ve tried to make it your own by swapping the two dog related sketches hanging in the hall that you couldn’t any make sense of with photos of your loved ones instead. You have a lot of questions for the person who lived here before. Were they dog people? Was it an inside joke perhaps?

If you could stop tripping on the split level, this place would probably be perfect.

The few personal touches you’ve either bought from DC or in your first week in Colombia have helped make it feel homely though. The patterned comforter on the faded leather couch, a few photos of friends and family scattered around, several orchids you fell in love with and foolishly thought would be easy to keep alive.

You take a large gulp of your coffee and take a bite of your eggs, turning the radio on while you finish eating.

You freeze as you hear the newsreader’s words, abandoning your breakfast instantly, before picking up your handbag and walking straight out of your apartment.

This is going to be a mess.

You’re already in Javier’s office when he arrives, sitting cross legged on the black Chesterfield couch, scanning through a file.

You had arrived at the embassy an hour earlier than you usually would. Most people were still at home or on their way in and you were looking forward to the quiet. You’d made a beeline for your office to get ahead of what had happened but Robert, one of the other lawyers, was also already in and you didn’t want him hearing everything.

You went to Javi’s office instead. Thankfully one of the janitors let you in and you had started building a response plan immediately.

This situation with Duffy and Lopez could definitely become the sort of mess you needed to help manage.

You look around at the papers strewn on his desk and you are slightly impressed by the amount of chaos you’ve caused in less than an hour.

Javi looks decidedly irritated by the scene in front of him. You quickly untangle yourself off your seat and stand up, guiltily picking your cup of coffee off his desk.

“Is this a treat I can expect every morning?” he asks lightly.

“Well, the early bird does catch the worm, Javier.”

“Apparently so.” For a second, he sounds so familiar. This isn’t the Agent Peña you met in the ambassador’s office yesterday. This is Javi, Rafael’s best friend. This is the same Javi who waited outside your school with Rafael when you were being bullied and the three of you would walk back to your house together. There’s mischief in his voice and for a second, he sounds younger.

You can’t get lost in memories now though.

”Did you hear about Duffy and Lopez?” you ask, skipping straight to the reason you’re here in his office.

Javier nods, runs a hand through his hair. “It was on the radio as I drove in.”

“I’ve been on the phone already, that’s uh, why I used your office. Robert’s already in mine and I needed privacy. They’re furious, Javi. Please tell me that they notified the police in Cali this was happening. Please?”

“It was a fast-moving opportunity,” he says, wincing at the way your face darkens. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t. Historically we’ve also had issues with that sort of thing, people in other people’s pockets so - this is just how it goes. You’ll learn that along the way.”

“Shit. Okay, we can - we’ll uh, we’ll deal with it. It’s done, can’t change it now. I’ve got some ideas, it’s manageable.”

“So, what do we do here then, Blue? You gonna help me navigate this?” You raise your eyebrows at Javi’s tone. There’s annoyance in his tone but he says your nickname softly. He looks exhausted already, as though he’s been stationed here for a decade as opposed to a day. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth though. He’s been here before, he spent years here.

“Why else would I be here?” you ask flatly. “I didn’t even get to finish my breakfast this morning. There’s a meeting - actually, you have a meeting in just over an hour with the Colombians and the ambassador. We need to be ready for it. You need to be ready for it, Javi.”

“So, we what? What’s the play? You said you had some ideas, I’ll all ears.”

“I think Duffy and Lopez’s visas are guaranteed to be pulled at this point. That’s probably non-negotiable. I think you’ll have to eat some humble pie, same with the ambassador but that should be enough. It’s the principle, they want to make it clear to both you and the ambassador that they’re running things, not us, okay?”

Javi exhales heavily. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke. Much. More socially than anything. Rarely.”

Javi raises an eyebrow at you.

“I mean that I don’t have any on me.” You look at Javi’s dejected face. ��I’m sorry!”

“This is going to be a great day, isn’t it?”

You smile widely. “That’s more like it, Javi. Keep up that winning attitude!”

Javi walks into your office later that afternoon. After helping him prepare for the meeting with the Ambassador and Vargas, you’ve been pulled into your own meetings, handing off projects you’d started before you were allotted this special assignment.

Several of your colleagues look up at him with a range of expressions from curiosity and admiration to annoyance. Everyone else is packing up for the end of their day but you’re still at your desk. At first you weren’t sure what you were waiting for but now you know.

He looks dejected. That’s the first thing you see. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked out of him; he’s flat. Even his eyes look lifeless somehow.; they’re dull, colder even.

You’ve never seen him like this before; you remember him so differently. He was driven and ambitious, yes, but there wasn’t this visible weight pulling him down. His smile met his eyes back then.

At least, that’s how you remember him.

Javi loosens his tie a little as he leans against your desk; you look at his tie, it’s blue and gold today.

“Rough meeting?” you ask politely, picking your coffee cup up and taking a delicate sip.

“They’re not letting me replace my team in Cali,” he says in a low voice, “Did you know about this? Was this one of your ideas>”

“Oh.”

“Look, it’s bad enough Duffy and Lopez are out. I get why, I’m okay with it. They’re telling me I can’t send any other agents out there though? How do I do my job because I’ve been back less than a week and my agents are questioning me already. Are you gonna help me navigate me that? That’s what I need from you.”

“I’m sure there are reasons,” you say gently. If Javi says the word ‘navigate’ one more time, you think you might kick him, or slap him, or spill your coffee on him. No, no, you wouldn’t waste your coffee, even if it is bad quality.

“Yeah, the reason is that they don’t want any of this. You do realise what you’re here for, don’t you? This assignment, what they want from you … it’s to block me.“

You scowl. “I’m not blocking anyone, Javier. I’m just here to help and to ensure everything is by the books, watertight so that we have a strong case when we extradite them.”

“You actually believe that?” he asks, an incredulous expression on his face.

You falter slightly. You did believe that - you want to continue to believe that, but if you’re honest you’re not so sure anymore.

“I do,” you say, smiling tightly.

“By the book. You think they’re playing by the book? Do you know how all the checks and balances work down here? The Cali cartel are negotiating a surrender with no consequences. It’s a negotiation where they have all the bargaining power, that seem right to you?”

“You can’t pretend that rules don’t matter, that checks and balances are irrelevant. It’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say that,” Javi says, shaking his head.

Rules matter to you. It might sound uptight and inflexible, but there’s a system for a reason. Your whole career has been about upholding standards, about ensuring that justice is obtained when rules are broken. You’re not quite as evangelical about it as some of the people you went to law school with, but this matters to you.

It matters because you know what it’s like when those checks and balances don’t matter; when rules are taken as loose guidance or stretched and exploited until they break. You carry those invisible scars from DC, coupled with the complete sense of failure that the rules hadn’t mattered. Not in that scenario, not when it what came to it.

Maybe Javi’s right.

“It’ll be by the book,” Javi says gently, looking at you with all of his attention. “But I can’t guarantee they’re out there doing the same thing.”

He’s standing so close to you right now. You can smell the sharp mint on his breath, either gum or those tiny solid mints you get a tin. You’re not sure which it is; which one of the two is most like Javi anymore. The mint is clearly to mask something, not alcohol, but you can just about make out lingering traces of cigarette smoke following him too.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a growing sense of dread constricting around your stomach like vines.

“What do you know about what’s happened in Yumbo?” he asks in a low voice.

There’s a small TV in the office. The local news plays in the background; the calm intonations of the newsreader fading into white noise.

You look over to see footage of Cali and walk closer so you can hear the report. This is the tragedy Javi told you about.

The cause was a gas leak?

No, because Javi told you that the journalist who approached him had indicated it was the Cali cartel. Why would the inspector say this though?

You left DC for a reason. For many reasons actually. If there is one thing that would affect you it’s a cover up, it’s deliberately concealing the truth. You can’t take watching a miscarriage of justice before you; that’s not why you got into law.

Javi’s right. The Rodriguez brothers, all of them, they need to be held to account, to justice.

You don’t want to be the blocker; you don’t want to be the person bought in to stop justice being served. You thought this role would be about ensuring a watertight case, one that would get justice.

No. No, this is not what you signed up for. This is not what you were promised.

Javi’s right about something else too - you’re naive. It surprises you. You thought the years of legal work, of life experience would have altered that, but clearly it hasn’t.

It’s time to change things.

You neatly stack the paperwork and lock it in your desk, before sweeping your Filofax and assorted pens into your handbag.

You need a plan.

You need to find a way to fix this.

You remind him of home.

Laredo hasn’t felt like home in years, but it transpires you can’t escape your hometown. Javi laughs bitterly; turns out that he can’t even escape his hometown more than two thousand miles away.

It’s not that home is Laredo. You don’t just remind him of there; you remind him of who he was before. Before the DEA, before Escobar, hell before Lorraine even.

It’s unspeakably cruel that you’re the one who has been bought in to ruin his chances of getting this one right.

Talking to Stechner in the bar made it clear; he’s here as decoration. Agent Peña; the man who helped bring down Escobar and will therefore add weight to the legitimacy of these negotiations. There’ll be no police work, no actual justice.

If there were any justice in the world, Javier, you’d be in jail.

Stechner’s words haunt him, continually replay in his mind. That whole exchange rendered Javi too much like his old self. Less than forty-eight hours in Colombia and he’d started smoking again, slept with an intern, all his plans lay in ash.

It became worse when he spoke to Martinez after the meeting about Duffy and Lopez. Martinez made it clear that he’d helped create this problem.

Javi lights a cigarette, moves from the couch to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

This is such a fucking mess already.

He’s taken aback by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Automatically he grabs his sidearm from the coffee table, holding it low as he moves to the front door.

“Javi?” a familiar voice asks.

Javi opens the door, placing his gun down on the hallway table.

“Really?” you ask, watching the scene from the doorway with raised eyebrows.

“How’d you know where I live?” he asks, returning to the doorway and tapping his fingers on top of the door jamb as he leans against the doorframe.

“I may have access to paperwork,” you say, a slightly shifty expression on your face. “They have a few of the attachés housed in this building, I think.”

“That is kind of creepy, Blue. Just turning up like this and looking at paperwork and -”

“Shut up. Please shut up.”

“If I just turned up -”

“I’m leaving,” you say, lips pursed together with annoyance or frustration.

Javi smiles in spite of himself, reaches out to touch your arm. He can smell your perfume; crisp and bright. Citrus and sharp notes rather than the softer vanilla and gourmand perfumes he’s used to. It suits you.

“It’s fine.”

He holds the door open for you, lets you walk right into his apartment. He notices how you scan the space around you, brush imaginary dust off your clothes.

You’ve changed since the office; you’re dressed more casually. A loose t-shirt with a band logo, jeans and sandals. You look younger, more how he remembers you. He’d always been Rafa’s friend, not yours, but sometimes you’d talk to him when he was waiting for Rafa or if you bumped into him in town.

You used to be like that; friendly. Your childhood nickname of Blue was a reference to the flowers you loved as a child, and it wasn’t just bluebonnets, it was any flowers at one point. It was a misnomer though, a joke on a joke, because you’d never seemed morose when you were young. You were always cheerful, optimistic, almost unfailingly positive. Even now, Javi sees that brightness in you, a little duller, a little dampened by time. It’s still there though, shining through layers of bureaucracy.

“So, what’s going on?” he asks. He wonders if you’ve heard about him sending that agent and his partner to Cali, if you’ve come all this way to admonish him.

He braces himself for the criticism, for the scolding at breaching processes, at not telling you. He had to do something though.

“You were right.”

Javi doesn’t skip a beat, manages to hide his surprise. “Obviously. So, you came all this way to tell me that?”

“I -”

“What was I right about again, cariño?” he asks, aiming for lazy disinterest but genuinely curious.

“They want me to block you. They’re working on the surrender and the gas thing - they just covered it up, Javi. People died. Children died, and hundreds got sick and it’s just swept under the carpet? The Cali cartel face no consequences for this? I - they just surrender and no one knows?”

Javi doesn’t say anything. He’s not entirely sure what your play is, if you’re testing him or if what you are saying is genuine.

You look wrecked though; he can see the frustration and despair in your eyes, a familiar expression he’s faced in the mirror more than once since he joined the DEA.

It’s real. It’s real, or you’re the best damn actress he’s ever met.

“You must hate me.”

“Nah, not really. It’s - maybe I need someone to help keep me in the lines.” If he had had you a few years ago, maybe Cali wouldn’t be in the same place right now. Martinez’ words earlier, the way he looked at Javi, repeat again and again in his mind.

When you sell your soul to the devil, you’re not allowed to ask for it back.

Javi needs to stop the Cali cartel, to arrest the godfathers, to prove it can be done and that justice, justice will matter. He thinks it might be the only way he’ll know peace right now. He’s trying, he’s trying so fucking hard to make it right this time.

If they let him. Hell, if you let him. They even chose a ghost from home to be the person who’s there to block him, stop him. Javi swears it’s deliberate.

“What did you say earlier? Checks and balances matter. That’s right too.”

“Oh, because I’ve been thinking and it’s all fucked up. I think we need to still - people need to see them in handcuffs, through the system, that’s what’s needed.”

“Okay,” Javi says, unsure of where you’re taking this, certain he’s misunderstanding the message between your words.

“And it does matter, doing this right does matter. You and me, we make this watertight, by the book, but we have to get them, Javi. We have to get them.”

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fili-urzudel · 4 months

Note

If you don't mind #9 and #7 with Thorin and Dwalin.

7. Sleeping in a dog pile

9. Forehead touches

I was quite honestly immediately inspired by this one, it was just bridging the gaps between every flash of inspiration I had lol. It felt nice to write something platonic, and I hope that this was close to what you had in mind, or if it wasn't, it's still something you enjoy. <3

Word count: 1.1 k

Warnings: Might getcha in your feels idk, old man dwarf Balin POV

Pebbles - Platonic Balin, Thorin, and Dwalin

Dwalin could hardly keep still, hands fidgeting with the head of the wooden axe Adad had gifted him some months ago. "Will you let us stay up as late as we want?"

"No," Balin answered sternly, still feeling a bit strange, entrusted with all this authority. "You will go to sleep when Amad and Her Highness said you need to go to sleep. And you'll eat your dinner."

"I thought brothers were supposed to be fun."

"I thought sons of the advisor to the king were supposed to be well behaved," Balin said, before ruffling his brother's dark hair. He hadn't quite gotten the hang of braiding it yet, so he decided to leave it all out, and it stuck out quite impressively from his head. "And you can have fun, just be mindful. It's not your house. And be gentle with Dis, she's just a little'un."

"Aye, aye," he waved him off.

The older dwarf hoisted his school bag over his shoulder again before knocking on the door to the common quarters of the royal family. "Come in!" The princess's voice rang through, and Balin took a deep breath as he pulled the door open.

"Dwalin!" Thorin jumped up from whatever it was he was doing at the table to all but tackle his little brother, initiating their special handshake that always ended in a headbutt.

He had taught them it.

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" As he spoke, Frerin and Dis came running up, sticking to either side of him and forcing him to drop his bag of schoolbooks on the floor. "Ah, at least someone cares," he joked, a hand on each of their backs.

"Thank you for showing up early, we're about ready to leave," the princess told him with a genuine smile. She was always so warm. "I know you'll all have so much fun!"

"Not too much," Prince Thrain reminded them.

"Of course not, sir."

"I know you're a good lad, Balin," Thrain reassured him. "I'm sure we'll return to clean plates, clean rugs, clean clothes, and no damaged art, right?" He asked, pointedly turning to his eldest son and his best friend, who seemed to be tuning him out.

"Yes, da."

"Yes, sir!" They said at the same time.

After a round of goodbye and another set of reminders for Thorin and Dwalin, the pair were off, and Balin could get started on his homework. Right?

"Dis, you've got to finish your vegetables," Balin encouraged her, though he knew the words would have irked him when he was her age.

"But I don't like green food," she pouted, blue eyes welling with on-demand tears.

"Thattagirl," Dwalin praised, and Balin shot him a look that had him shrinking in his seat.

"They're good, I prom—Frerin, that had better not be drawing clay," he warned as he saw the pebble nearing the wall with a suspiciously clenched fist. "I may not be your ma but I won't let you color the walls either."

After redirecting Frerin's creative energy to parchment, Balin cleaned up after dinner.

It wasn't much easier after.

"Boys, no wrestling on the furniture," he said exasperatedly, still trying in vain to do his schoolwork at the dinner table. He moved his papers and books haphazardly in his arms to the table in the sitting room, hoping to dissuade them from trying again.

They continued amusing themselves with tasks of varying volume, and Balin was almost done with his essay on the First Age when it went quiet. Too quiet.

"Boys?"

"Quick, pick it up!"

"Why weren't you watching her?"

"She's your sister!"

"She's your sister too!"

"You're older!"

By that point, Balin had made it to the room at the end of the hall—the master bedroom. Someplace none of them should be.

The scene was simple enough to decipher. A vase of some sort lay on the ground, formerly perched on a table that Dis must've walked into and knocked over. Surprisingly, the noise was not enough to make her cry, but enough to make the other pebbles start panicking.

It wasn't a big deal. Honestly, if it was anyone's fault, it was Balin's, something he would readily admit to when the prince and princess returned.

But the pebbles thought they were in big trouble, with enough anxious energy to keep them up all night.

"Why, you little goats!" He roared, and the pebbles perked up almost instantly. "You'd better run!"

Dis shrieked and toddled away, the others in hot pursuit. Balin chased them around tables and the kitchen island, catching them and earning more screams every time they hid behind a bed or chair.

He let them get ahead of him just enough to confer among themselves, and when he caught up, they attacked.

"Get him!" Dis cried in her small voice, and Balin couldn't hide his smile.

Frerin and Thorin each took an arm, and Dwalin bowled them back onto the couch. "My own brother, betraying me!" he shouted, closing his eyes in defeat.

The couch was wide, wide enough for the five of them to spread out as they wished. Dwalin lay on his chest, his untamed hair tickling Balin's chin.

Thorin laid his head on his stomach, his baby sister in his arms and his little brother laid out on his legs.

And finally, they could rest, Balin thought as not-so-quiet snores filled the room.

"Balin?" A small voice asked, and it took a moment for him to realize it was Dwalin's. It had been a while since he sounded so... little.

"Yeah, nadad?"

"I'm sorry for not being better tonight."

"You were just having fun," he assured him. "It's alright."

"Are you sure?"

Balin touched his forehead to his brother's briefly, patting his back. "Yeah. Go to sleep, nadad."

His brother snuggled back up to his side.

He would clean up the vase later. He would tell the prince and princess when they got home and apologize profusely for not watching them more closely.

But right now, it was nice being right where he was.

My, where did time go?

It had been a long time since then, Balin reminisced. A lot had changed. They were charging to recover the mountain he had lived most of his life in. He had a couple hundred more grey hairs, and all the pebbles had full beards now. The ones that were still alive, at least. Dis had pebbles of her own, and they were on the quest.

He wasn't sure, but he did know one thing. It was an absolute fact, actually, as Thorin and Dwalin lay snoring on each arm.

Some things didn't change much at all.

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #balin the dwarf #balin the hobbit #balin lotr #thorin x dwalin platonic #dwalin fundinson #thorin oakenshield #balin fundinson #balin and dwalin #platonic lotr #platonic fanfiction

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we-were-beautiful · 1 year

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The Fox and The Hounds pt.1

A/N: Hello all, so this is my first time writing for anything from Acotar that I have gotten to a point that I feel confident enough to post It has been almost two years since I have really written anything so I might be a wee bit rusty, but I had the cute autumn court head cannon that I needed to get out of my head. Also no Beta here we die like men

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warnings: none

Wind gently rustles the leaves of the forest surrounding the humble home in the forest, somewhere distantly a river babbles deep in the misty woods. By humble home it truly translates to manor nestled deep in the Forest. The sound of dogs barking breaks the peaceful silence around the home most days, and on occasion one could catch a glimpse of the sleek gray hounds darting throughout the property.

The L/N family were a well respected family within the Autumn Court. Thorne L/N had made his name in court as an advisor and counselor to Beorn in conjunction with the lucrative businesses he ran on the side. However what the family was most well known for was their smoke hounds.The most well-bred and coveted hounds came from the L/N estate. Of his four children the only one who took interest in the dogs was his youngest Y/N. With seven hounds of her own Y/N was clever when it came to which ones should be bred together and what new bloodlines to bring in. Y/N quickly became one of the go to breeders in Autumn with pups from her stock being highly sought after. While not the most traditional route for a lady of the court, Thorne allowed Y/N to keep up with it as it brought her joy and it kept her home under her mothers watchful eye.

A small yip can be heard as a red fox darts around Y/N’s ankles as she moves through the kitchen. Coming in from the kennels Y/N moves sluggishly; putting on the kettle and grabbing a cup to make tea. The fox yips again; this time nipping at her heel. The action however seems to not have the desired effect; nonetheless Y/N moved about the kitchen to fetch the spoiled fox’s breakfast. Seeing the female grab the bowl the fox moved standing on its hind paws resting its front paws on the cabinet to watch the female prep its breakfast again loudly yiping when she wasn’t moving at a fast enough pace for the little creature.

“Ginger.” Y/N hushes the fox and sets a bowl of food down on the ground. Ginger had been a mating present from her father to her mother when the mating bond had snapped. It is an old Autumn Court tradition for a Female to receive a fox kit from her mate or fiance before the ceremony. The foxes were seen as a token of good luck and served as a constant companion for a female in her home. The room is silent save for the soft click of her boots as she moves about the floor and the fox scarfing down food. She hadn’t planned on leaving the manor today so she found it fit to wear trousers paired with a cream blouse and a forest green vest with golden leaves embroidered into the fabric. The kettle lets out a screeching whittle from thee stove breaking the early morning quiet

The female let out a yawn as she poured the boiling water into the delicate cup. The unexpected all-nighter was really starting to take its toll on her. One of the servants had roused her in the middle of the night. Bellatrix, her prized hound, had gone into labor. While this wasn’t her first litter it still took quite a bit of time and Y/N preferred to be there for her hounds just in case things went sour. Luckily for all parties involved things went smoothly and all 6 of the pups were healthy.

Looking out the window the dark sky began to take on hues of purple and orange as the sun started to rise across the colorful Autumn forest. The birds slowly started to awaken their song, joining the rest of the white noise of the forest. Y/n takes a hold of the delicate teacup, wrapping both of her hands around it savoring the warmth against her chilled fingers. Steam rose up from the cup dancing in ambiguous patterns as she took the first sip of the hot tea.

Y/N let out a sigh she knew she would have to go back out to the kennels soon to start feeding the hounds. She could only hope that she would be able to take a small nap before her fathers visitors made their way to the estate. He might have mentioned who was coming, but if she was being perfectly honest with herself she hadn’t been paying attention. Knowing her father it was probably another advisor coming in for brunch before they would go out hunting with the hounds. Leaning against the counter, taking a sip of her tea, her sensitive Fea ears pick up on the inhabitants of the manor slowly waking up to start the day.

The cook was the first person she had seen since she had been fetched last night and the older wood nymph jumped a little seeing the younger Fae leaning on the counter drinking a cup of tea. Upon seeing the new arrival Ginger started yiping again, going to wind around the Nymph’s feet.

“Lady Y/n I wasn’t expecting to see you here this early in the morning.” The nymphs comforting voice brings a small smile to Y/N’s face

“Bella her pups in the early hours, I was tending to her most of the night.” Y/N yawns out, gently setting the cup into the sink in the kitchen “I probably should get back out to the kennels to tend to the rest of the dogs before breakfast.”

“Just make sure you are done and cleaned up before the High Lord and his family arrives.” Her voice is calm despite the news that she dropped on the poor girl's lap.

The High Lord and his family, that's who her fathers guest were. She knew that Beron and her father were close friends since childhood, but this was the first time in her 65 years that they would be hosting the High Lord of Autumn at their home. Typically in the past her family had always traveled to the Forest House for formal events and her father traveled back and forth for his work. The thought sent chills up her back while the High lord and his family had been cordial and friendly with hers; they still had a rather terrifying reputation, and some of his younger sons often looked at her like she was a piece of meat. She would dance and converse with them at gatherings when approached but she clung to her father and brothers side the moment she could get away.

“I forgot that High Lord Beron and his family were coming. Thank you for the reminder Aspen.” Y/n nods before heading towards the door to head back towards the kennels. This news ment she would have to rush getting the kennels ready for the day so that she could go get dressed for a meal with the high lord. Typically she helped the servants with the task regarding her and her family's hounds, she wanted to ensure that they were receiving the best care that they could. The hounds from this estate were prized for a reason. She had known that one of her hounds pups had been purchased by Lord Eris but she had been away from the court at that time with her mother visiting her mothers kin in the Hewn city.

Eris was about the only one of Beron’s four sons that she could stand. In all her interactions with him he had been kind to her, chasing away his younger brothers when they were making her visibly uncomfortable. It also helped that the two of them both had a passion for the famed smoke hounds, so the conversation between the two had never been too dull. When the High Lord had announced Eris’ engagement to Morrigan; Y/n felt like someone had ripped her heart from her chest. It confused the poor girl, only 40 at the time, as to why she had felt like this. The two had never had anything more than friendly conversations at the balls and formal dinners that they had both attended. The pain in her chest had dulled when news had spread through the court about the disastrous outcome of that short lived engagement. There were unfortunate outcomes for her when the rumors spread about why Kier had nearly killed his own daughter. Most of these days Y/N could barely leave the manor without one of her parents or brothers escorting her; and even at formal events she was always under someone's watchful eye, just in case she might have gotten the urge to sneak off with a male. Not like she would do that anyway she was more than content to stay here with her hounds rather than go out and socialize with other females her age whose only goal in life was to marry up or with males who were only interested in what lies beneath her skirts.

Y/N let out a scoff as she entered into the noisy kennel. Her Family owned 18 total hounds, seven were her own personal hounds, five belonged to her father. And her three brothers each had three. Y/n had bred most of the hounds in the kennel bringing in a fortune for her family; however with 18 dogs comes a lot of work that takes some time. Y/N rolls up the sleeves to her shirt as she walks over to the first kennel, one of her fathers hounds, gently clips the leash onto the collar before leading the dog out of its kennel and clipping it onto one of the tiedown points on the center walkway so that she can begin the morning process.

Far more time than she would have liked has passed before she gets to Bellatrix’s kennel .Even with the two servants assigned to the kennels the laborious morning process takes much longer than anticipated, especially after finding out that two of her brother's bitches were in heat. She would pick out two males later to stick in the kennels with them to see if they could yield another two litters. At the moment though Y/N is currently checking over Bellatrix and her pups while listening to the pitiful whines from the kennel across the aisle where the pups sire was housed

“Khalid, Quit your whining. I will bring you over in just a second.” She scolded the dog, Missing the kennel doors open and her help freezing as the newcomers walked in.

Five people walk into the kennels. Her father and mother lead the High Lord Beron, The heavily pregnant Lady of Autumn, and Eris into the kennel. Ginger and another fox quickly darted into the kennel playfully chasing after one another accidentally slamming into Y/N’s legs pulling her attention away from Bellatrix and her pups.

“Y/N” Come greet our guest.” Her fathers voice rang throughout the kennels which suddenly seemed far too quiet as if the hounds knew the power and importance of the individuals that had just walked in. Y/N however was surprised by her father springing up and turning to face the newcomers, well aware that she was not appropriately dressed for this situation. Her cheeks flush in embarrassment as she makes her way towards the group.

“High Lord’ Y/N drops into an awkward curtsy not used to the performing the action in trousers instead of a dress “I apologize for my state I must have lost track of time”

The last thing Y/N wanted to do was bring shame to her father in front of one of his closest friends and her plans were to be ready and dressed before they had arrived, but Beron surprisingly just laughed it off, much to everyone's shock. While Beron had a reputation for being cruel, he had treated her like his own daughter and had even been named her godfather when she was born should anything have happened to her parents.

“Well this is part of why we were coming, to visit your prized hounds Y/N, I had expected to find you here.” His deep voice rang throughout the kennel “ I am in the market for a new hound and word is going around the court that one of yours is expecting a litter.”

“Well my Lord you are in luck Bella had her litter last night. So I currently have six puppies that will be available once they are weaned. Would you like to get a quick look?” Y/N raises from her curtsy, giving the high lord a smile. Beron holds out an arm for her to take as she leads the group back to Bellatrix’s kennel.

“Now I wouldn’t pick one out just yet as we don’t know what their personalities are going to be like just yet as they are less than 12 hours old at the moment. We can check back in about three to four weeks when they have started wandering away from mom. You will get the first pick of the litter of course my Lord.” Y/N prattles as the group looks on at the hound and her puppies. Another whine sounds from the kennel behind them reminding her of Khalid

“One moment.” she excuses herself, as her father and Beron start talking prices for the pup.” grabbing the lead off the wall, she steps into the kennel clipping it on and walking him over to the other kennel. Quickly opening it and unclipping the hound letting him dart off towards Bella and his pups looking on the scene like a proud father laying down next to Bellatrix, gently nosing one of the pups back towards its mother when it tried to wiggle away. Latching the kennel shut Y/N turns to face the group again, watching her parents and the high lord and his lady talk.

“Do you breed your hounds outside of your family’s kennels?” Eris’ rich voice meets her ears pulling her gazes toward him.

The moment that Eris’s rich cinnamon eyes meet Y/E/C , It's like all the air is sucked from the room. The mating bond snapping into place, the gold thread connecting the two of them together. Y/N cant help herself as she involuntarily takes a step towards the Autumn heir, towards the one that the mother had deemed to be her equal. Eris, the cruel heir of autumn, was her mate.

“Mate.” The words came from Eris' mouth before he could even think about stopping them and the room went silent as all eyes went to the two of you.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #autumn court #the fox and the hounds

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rans-baby · 2 years

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bonten as high school staff

teehee just bonten as your local high school staff members :3 thank you to my love @megumi-divine for bouncing ideas back and forth with me it's so fun ♡

MIKEY

home ec teacher who will only teach his students how to make desserts because "you can never have enough desserts!"

students got sick of it so he invited emma to guest lecture (read: teach) them how to make real food

will call the students with nut allergies and lactose intolerance "the weakest link" and shame them publicly

HARUCHIYO

CHAOTIC CHEM TEACHER WHO’S REALLY UNQUALIFIED TO TEACH

will "accidentally" teach his students how to make drugs

takes students phones because he wants all the tea

"your boyfriend is ass, and i saw him holding hands with another girl the other day, want me to beat his ass?♡"

one time accidentally created carbon monoxide and knocked all of his students out

"we could have DIED!" "yeah well I COULD HAVE DIED TOO YOU SELFISH FUCK"

RAN

that random coach that subs for other classes and is not qualified for any of the jobs he's given

races his students just to prove that he's faster than them

blows the whistle at random times just to scare his students and will sometimes do it to a beat of a song when he's bored

"you guys would never survive the streets smh"

RINDOU

the history teacher who couldn't care less

"idk they're all dead anyways what's the point?"

talks about politics all the time and has the best intentions but the way it comes across is so misguided

"BITCHES DESERVE ABORTIONS. I DON'T WANT THAT SHIT"

he's trying

KAKUCHO

the beloved literature teacher that everyone comes to with their problems

makes spotify playlists and will both teach and learn about his students on a personal level

"how's your dog? he was having stomach aches the other day right?"

literally no one pays attention in class bc he's TOO fine

TAKEOMI

the trash academic advisor who does not help with college apps AT ALL

"it's not my fault you're a fucking idiot jesus"

definitely smokes in his office, but literally who is going to stop him

"i have asthma" "did i ask?"

has almost gotten fired multiple times but somehow still works there

“back in my day” headass

KOKONOI

that econ teacher that tells all of his students to get into stocks and nfts and does not elaborate on how to actually do it

"just... buy it"

will come to school in designer shit and gives money to the lower income students and is so kind about it, would never make them repay him

but will scam the rich students "you need money for weed? just pay me back with 30% interest and you got a deal"

thoughts on writing hc's about high school staff bonten and milf!reader?

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #bonten x reader #mikey x reader #kakucho x reader #kokonoi x reader #ran haitani x reader #sanzu x reader #takeomi x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #ran x reader

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princesssarisa · 2 months

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The next set of tales I've read in Cinderella Tales from Around the World hail from Iceland, the Faroe Islands, and Denmark.

*One Icelandic tale, which Heiner's book features in three variations, is The Story of Mjadveig, the Daughter of Mani, also known as Stepmother Story. The heroine, Mjadveig, is a princess, and after her mother dies, her father King Mani's advisors urge him to remarry. In a foreign land he finds a charming widow and marries her. But unbeknownst to him, both the new queen and her own daughter are evil giantesses magically disguised as humans, and depending on the retelling, they either abuse Mjadveig or tie her up and abandon her in the wilderness. But either way, Mjadveig has a dream at night in which her mother advises her to follow a certain path, and the next day she obeys and finds a little house, where she lives in safety. On the way there, or at some point when she goes out, she loses a shoe. Soon afterward, a prince arrives from another land, and he finds the shoe, is struck by its delicacy, and sets out to find the owner. The giantess queen lies that it's her own daughter's and secretly cuts her daughter's foot to make it fit, but of course a bird reveals the truth to the prince, and then he finds Mjadveig and falls in love with her. He forces the giantess stepsister to appear in her true form, then kills her and tricks her mother into eating her flesh. This causes the queen to reveal her own giantess form, and the prince kills her too.

**One of the three variants ends with Mjadveig's marriage, but in the other two, some time later, she meets her dead stepmother's sister, an equally wicked giantess. The new giantess magically takes Mjadveig's shape to replace her, and sends the real Mjadveig to her brother, a giant who imprisons her under the sea. But a herdsman and a dwarf ultimately rescue her and return her to her husband, and the giant and giantess are killed. (This is obviously similar to Gaelic versions like Fair, Brown, and Trembling.)

*The book also includes another Icelandic story, The Tale of How Three Damsels Went to Fetch Fire, though this is less of a Cinderella story and more of a "Kind and Unkind Girls" story combined with Beauty and the Beast. There are three sisters, and both of their parents spoil the older two but abuse the youngest. One day each sister in turn goes out to fetch fire, and each in turn comes to a cave where a hideous yet polite giant and his dog live. Of course the older two sisters behave badly, but the youngest is kind despite her fear. The giant turns out to be an enchanted prince whose spell the youngest girl breaks, and he marries her.

*There's also one story from the Faroe Islands, The Girl Who Got Meat and Clothes in the Mound. Again, this is really more of a "Kind and Unkind Girls" tale. An abused and starved stepdaughter finds an earthen mound containing a table with rich food, remembers to thank God in prayer before she eats, and later she finds elegant clothes inside the mound, which attract the attention of a prince, who marries her; but when her stepsister goes to the mound, she eats without praying, and gets nothing more.

*Now we move on to Denmark. There are many different Danish Cinderella stories, but most of them include similar motifs.

**Most Danish Cinderellas are abused by a stepmother and one or two stepsisters. But some give her two biological sisters who abuse her after their father's death. Still others have her run away from her stepfamily, or be left all alone in the world after her father dies, and become a servant at the prince's castle in the tradition of Donkeyskin/All-Kinds-of-Fur.

**Her magical helper is most often an animal – typically a dog, but sometimes a red calf, a cat, a dove, or in one version an eel in a pond. A few versions feature a dwarf, though, a few others have her mother rise from her grave to help her, one other has an old woman who gives her three linseeds that contain three beautiful dresses, and yet another has her her helped by a merman she meets when her sisters send her to catch a fish.

***The versions with the red calf are basically the same story as The Blue Bull from France – she and the calf run away together, the calf is killed but still grants her wishes in death, and the rest of the story is a Donkeyskin/All-Kinds-of-Fur variant.

**Sometimes she also receives finery and a coach from a tree, often a lime tree, which either her dog or her mother's spirit tells her will give them to her. Sometimes while the tree gives her the finery, the dog or other animal does her chores for her while she's gone.

**Some versions start out like Puss in Boots. The three sisters' father dies, and leaves all his property and money to the older two, but just a dog to the youngest. Then the two older sisters treat the youngest like a scullery maid, but the dog becomes her magical helper.

**The event she attends is nearly always church. Only two variants have a ball instead, and those two show obvious signs of being based on the Grimms' and Perrault's versions, not authentic folk versions.

**In many versions, when she goes to church, she chants "Light before! Darkness behind!" or some variation on it (sometimes with "Mist behind" instead). This ensures that no one who tries to follow her can see where she goes, either on the way or coming back.

**Almost all versions include the theme of the (step)sisters (or other ladies, in the Donkeyskin variants) cutting their feet to make the shoe fit, only for a bird to reveal the trick.

**In one version, after the prince has the church steps smeared with pitch and the heroine's shoe sticks, he also steals a ring from her finger just before she escapes. Thus all the ladies have to try on both the shoe and the ring: some can wear just the shoe, others just the ring, but none except the heroine fit both.

**Only three variants continue the story after the heroine's marriage, but none have her stepmother or sisters try to murder her. Instead it's her children who are endangered. In two, the magical helper – a dog in one, a strange man in the other – wants to take away her children as payment for his help, and the last part of the story becomes a version of Rumpelstiltskin. (Silly note: When I read these versions, I couldn't help but think of "Cinderumpelstiltskin" from The Stinky Cheese Man.) In the third, the stepmother throws each of the heroine's newborn babies into the pond. But the magical eel in the pond who helped her earlier brings them back – but only after he's been appeased with a gift of many bushels of salt, which she promised to give him earlier but then forgot.

Next country on the list: Sweden.

#cinderella #fairy tale #variations #cinderella tales from around the world #heidi ann heiner #iceland #the faroe islands #denmark #tw: violence

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voraciousvore · 1 month

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Giganterra (Chapter 5)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (4) | Next (6)

Word Count: 3.4k

------ Chapter 5: Sacrifice ------

King Charles desired to be alone, for he needed some time to brood. He dismissed his servants and sat by himself in his throne room, upon the magnificent golden throne embedded with precious jewels and decorated with intricate metalwork, the symbolic seat of power. A storm raged outside, splashing buckets of rain against the tall windows and darkening the luxurious purple and blue adornments of the room with somber gray. The occasional rumble of thunder echoed off the high ceilings and the stone walls, providing a forbidding ambience.

He was deeply troubled. His giant counterpart was waxing in greed and hedonism, and he wasn’t sure if he could hold off his assault indefinitely and maintain his kingdom. King Richard normally sought to replenish his supply of human maidens about once every six months, so for him to demand more so soon was highly concerning. It was hard enough to find people to fulfill the quota without having to essentially double the quantity. Not to mention his atypical request for men this time as well. What was he planning to do with them? King Charles had never actually met King Richard, since the giant king considered proper diplomacy with the humans below his dignity, but he could infer why a giant man might desire tiny ladies.

He huffed, closing his eyes and massaging his temples with his hands. He was stressed and discouraged. He tried his best to maintain the dignity of his reign, and of his people, but he couldn’t help but see it all as a farce. Even as he sat upon his throne, within the halls of his authority, he knew he had no real power in the situation, no bargaining chips. He had no choice but to roll over like a submissive dog and take the abuse, and he hated every second of it.

Even so, beyond his inner circle, he maintained a veneer of calm composure and regality. He couldn’t allow his kingdom to fall into depravity and chaos, without the firm guidance of a strong king. He shouldered a heavy burden, but not one as heavy as the poor souls who ended up in the clutches of King Richard.

The creak of a door opening heralded the entrance of another man into the room. King Charles glanced up to find his advisor, Giovanni, standing at the threshold of the great hall. He was a lanky and timid man, not very sturdily built, but useful for his intelligence and analytical nature.

“Come!” the king commanded in his rich voice, and Gio scurried forward, giving the king a respectful bow. “What is it? Speak.”

“I found one, sire. I scoured the jails and dungeons all across the land, and there was one specimen worthy of a king. A lovely young lady, with caramel skin, glossy brunette locks, and tawny eyes.” Gio’s voice, in stark contrast to the king’s, was reedy and uncertain.

“And what was her crime?”

“Oh…” Gio fidgeted with his hands. “Petty theft. She stole food from a market stall. Despite her beauty, she’s just a poor peasant…”

The king sighed with a labored grimace. “Not a crime worthy of banishment, torture, and death,” he mumbled under his breath.

“E-excuse me, sire?”

“What’s her name?”

“Uh… Tanya, I think?”

“Very well. She’ll have to do.” King Charles stroked his chin with a ponderous expression. “What about the men?”

“Well… since we’re not sure what the men are for, I wasn’t certain what qualities to look for… but there are far more able-bodied young men in the prisons than women, so we have plenty of options to choose from,” Gio concluded.

The king nodded, kneading his forehead to stave off a nascent migraine. After suffering through King Richard’s reign for as many years as they had, the human kingdom of Minimaterra had a system of selection in place to determine who would be chosen as tribute. The very concept was brutal and execrable to everyone involved, but they were powerless to refuse the giant king, lest he retaliate and enslave them all. The ruling class enacted their policies for the greater good of humanity.

The first chosen in the selection process were convicted criminals. While there were plenty of prisoners in the system, finding people suitable for tribute was more challenging. King Richard was very picky in his personal tastes, and always sent one of his trusted servants for the sake of quality control, so the humans couldn’t simply choose anyone, or else the tribute would be rejected. They had to be young, beautiful, delicious maidens, which excluded the entire male population, older women, and any woman that wasn’t pretty enough to fit the standards of a king. It was difficult to find such a fine specimen in the jails, especially with all the women they had already sent to Giganterra. Not to mention, women were far more hesitant to commit crimes when even the most petty infraction could result in such terrible life-changing consequences. In Minimaterra, women were taught from a young age about the dangers, with parents warning their children that they would be gobbled up by the giant king if they misbehaved.

After convicts, the next tier for selection was volunteers. In exchange for their noble sacrifices, the king honored a request, or provided one of their family members with a lifetime stipend. Although this method was effective in procuring more desirable individuals, it was not sustainable in the long term. Such a commitment placed rising financial burdens on the royal treasury over time. Minimaterra was a peaceful and reasonably prosperous kingdom, but resources in their limited territory were finite. The humans had no opportunities for trade with other kingdoms to facilitate economic growth, since Giganterra walled them in on all sides and kept them isolated from interstate commerce. The coffers would run dry eventually. When that happened, and he could no longer buy people’s cooperation, the human king would be forced to conscript free women against their will, an unsavory notion he wished to avoid if possible.

“Have we gotten any volunteers yet?” the king inquired, leading into the next logical point of inquiry.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Gio replied. Even though he was in the presence of royalty, he couldn’t stop himself from shuffling his feet uneasily. “A woman named Candy signed up this morning. She was babbling on, some nonsense about following her destiny and finding true love. She said she just had to visit Giganterra at all costs. I think something is off upstairs, but she is quite physically attractive, so she will be perfect.” When Gio reported to the king, he didn’t spare details: He knew the king wanted all the available information, so he would be more knowledgeable in making informed decisions.

“Okay. Was she the only one?”

“No, your grace, there was one more. A woman named Eren. She was very… shall I say... fiery? She had a savage look to her, like she was about ready to stab somebody, but still enough feminine beauty to appeal. Another quality candidate, in my humble opinion.”

“Hmmm. So three women. We still need two more. And with only a few days until the deadline...” the king mused gloomily, grinding his teeth. “Gio, bring me some refreshments. And fetch me entertainment. I need a break.” Gio bowed and left to carry out his orders. He held the position of an advisor, but he was more than happy to serve the king with anything he required. The king rubbed his face with his hands. He slumped down, remaining on his throne, as if clinging to whatever authority he could muster.

Gio came back quickly with a bottle of mead and an elaborate charcuterie board loaded with a variety of exotic cheeses, meats, crackers, nuts, and fresh fruit. He was accompanied by the court jester, Cesar, who put on a show to entertain the king. He juggled, performed acrobatics, recited humorous limericks, and told jokes. The king didn’t smile or laugh, but Cesar was unbothered. He was a goofy, confident, outgoing guy with a vibrant personality, unable to be dampened by the more serious king.

Another servant entered the great hall and came near the throne with a deferential bow, waiting to be noticed. The king gave him permission to speak with a wave of his hand. “Your Majesty, there’s a mother with her daughter who is requesting an audience. They’re here to offer themselves as tribute.”

King Charles’s heart jumped in his chest. “Send them in,” he ordered, releasing the servant. He indicated to Cesar to halt his routine and the jester stood off to the side, hands clasped stiffly behind his back. The servant returned leading two women behind him, a haggard older woman with a stern mien with a much younger, thinner girl who looked barely old enough to be of age. The timid girl was hunched over, hugging her arms around her slim body like a shield.

“You offer yourselves for tribute?” the king asked, his voice echoing in the empty hall. He leaned forward to look down upon the commoners.

“Not me—her,” the mother proclaimed, roughly shoving her daughter forward. The young lady looked miserable and scared, her eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape. King Charles regarded her thoughtfully. She was rather plain, with bushy, ratty hair and limbs like twigs. She appeared to be unkempt and sickly, as if mildly underfed, with no curves and a flat chest. The king frowned. She was hardly the ideal candidate to satisfy King Richard’s perversions, but he was getting desperate. They could probably hide her flaws with makeup and padding.

“What’s your name?” he asked her.

Her mother cut in before the girl could reply. “Her name is Addison,” she interjected. “How much can I get for her? I heard I can get payments for life?” Addison cringed, ever so slightly, but kept her mouth sealed shut. She seemed just as afraid of her aggressive mother as being sold off against her will.

“That is correct,” the king confirmed. “But it must be her choice, not yours.” He stared at Addison expectantly. She hesitated. Her mother prodded her hard in between her shoulder blades. With her mother’s glare blistering her back, Addison reluctantly nodded.

The king felt an unsettling twist in his guts. He knew accepting her answer would be morally wrong. She was clearly under duress, being manipulated, threatened, or abused for the gain of a heartless family member. Yet, he felt trapped. Either way, he would have to send somebody, whether they wanted to go or not, with brutal consequences for failure. Presently, he lacked a sufficient quantity of maidens. He couldn’t allow himself to feel sympathy for this girl, just because she looked young and pathetic. He had to consider the greater good.

“Alright. I accept.” He turned to the servant that guided them in. “Take care of the details, please.” The man dutifully nodded and escorted the pair out. The king sighed and poured himself more mead. He needed a stiff drink.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty? If I may be so bold?” Cesar piped up, stepping towards the throne.

“Proceed,” the king allowed, draining his glass.

“I heard King Richard requested men as well as women this time around. I’ve given it some thought, and... I’m willing to make the sacrifice! I will go to Giganterra!” the jester announced, raising his pointer finger triumphantly. The bells in his hat jingled merrily with the motion.

King Charles looked him up and down, baffled. “Cesar, I appreciate your selfless bravery, but that won’t be necessary. We will have enough male convicts to fill the quota.”

Cesar’s face fell, but he set his jaw with determination. “But... quality is important! I’d be a better choice than some lowlife thug!” King Charles realized he did have a good point. Cesar was gifted with a strong, lithe build, and he was exceedingly handsome, with bright green eyes, wavy brown hair, a sparkling smile, and toasted skin. If he were a female candidate, his selection would be a no-brainer.

Even so, the king shook his head. “No. I don’t understand why you’re being so insistent.”

Cesar, spurned a second time, resorted to begging. He crumbled to the floor on his knees in an overly dramatic display of supplication, clasping his hands above his head. “Oh, please! Pretty please, sire, let me go! I really wanna!” he whined, giving the king doe eyes. The action was made more ridiculous with his particolored outfit and bells.

The king was nonplussed. “Why?”

“Because...” Cesar began, and paused with a blush. He decided to lay all his cards on the table. “Because I want to meet the giantess princess!”

“What?”

“That’s the reason why he’s asking for men, isn’t it? We’re well acquainted with his preferences by now; we know he has a thing for pretty ladies, not men. The men must be for his daughter! Oh, please, your grace, let me go! I so badly want to go!” He’d fantasized about giantesses since he was a young lad, and now was his chance to finally become acquainted with one in the flesh: huge mountains of soft, warm flesh, preferably with bulging breasts, a slim waist, and toned thighs and buttocks. He could hardly contain his lust as he prostrated himself before the king.

“You really want to go that badly?” The king shook his head in disbelief, yet for the first time that day, Cesar was finally able to make him chuckle. “Alright, Cesar: I shall grant you your wish. May God have mercy upon your soul.”

“Oh, thank you, sire! Thank you!” Cesar bowed and thanked the king profusely. He grinned from ear to ear, flashing his flawless white teeth. He would do everything he could to please the massive princess.

The humans still needed one final person to satisfy King Richard’s boundless lust and gluttony. As the days passed, and the deadline drew nearer, the human ruler became more desperate, calling for a single brave soul to step forward and save them all. They needed a miracle to avoid calamity.

Offering oneself as a sacrifice to the giant king was considered a noble, courageous, and selfless act, a form of martyrdom for the sake of humanity. Such a concept could appeal to those who wished for a larger purpose, wanted to inject meaning into their empty lives, or, in a darker vein, those who did not consider themselves valuable. As tragic and ghastly as this reality was, King Charles was in no position to refuse those lost souls who willingly gave up their lives.

Jackie, a resident of Minimaterra, found herself in an intolerable position. A year ago, a close friend of hers who had suffered a catastrophic personal tragedy chose to sacrifice herself. Jackie mourned the loss deeply and always wondered what happened to her, after she was taken. Her friend had no close family left, so she specified that Jackie should receive the stipend from the royal treasury in exchange for her life. With every payment, Jackie stewed deeper in guilt and despair. She didn’t want money, nor did she want to materially benefit from her friend’s demise: She wanted her friend back.

Her conscience gnawed at her every day as the calls for tribute became more urgent, and the pressure on her increased. No amount of tears sufficed as proper penance. She felt empty inside, despite overflowing with sadness and remorse. A grim idea surfaced in her mind, one that couldn’t be suppressed once it began to fester. While she feared what may happen to her, she sought to fight against her own insignificance and existential nihilism and do some good for her fellow man. For better or worse, she gave herself up to the giant king.

And thus, all the tributes were chosen: Candy, out of an earnest desire for love; Jackie, out of a sense of guilt and selfless justice; Eren, from a thirst for vengeance; Addison, too timid to stand up to her greedy, overbearing, abusive mother; and Cesar, out of pure horniness. The remaining two, Tanya and a male convict named Graham, were chosen against their will, and would not learn of their damnation until the giants came to collect them.

As a courtesy to the brave souls who self-selected for tribute, King Charles elected to meet with them personally on the day before they were sent off to a grim, yet uncertain, fate. He assembled all the volunteers together, excluding the prisoners. Most of them, with the exception of Cesar, had never been inside the castle before, so they were awed by the lavish opulence of the furnishings, the high ceilings and wide corridors, and the fine art pieces. The servants herded them like lambs into a private room with luxurious couches and gourmet refreshments.

They partook in the fancy hors d’oeuvres, some of which were so rare that the commoners had no idea what they were actually eating. Overall, the mood in the room was tense and gloomy. Addison huddled awkwardly on a corner of the embroidered couch and eyeballed the food hungrily, as if afraid somebody would slap her hand if she tried to take some. Eren seared a hole in the coffee table with her thousand-yard stare as she angrily munched on an appetizer and fantasized about slicing open the throat of a giant in glorious, bloody revenge. Jackie withdrew into herself, accepting her destiny with melancholic stoicism. Candy and Cesar were the only two who were chipper and chatty. Candy was oblivious to Cesar’s flirtatious advances as she prattled on about fortune tellers and handsome knights, stars blinding her vision to the gruesome truth.

A servant announced the entry of King Charles, and his subjects all stood up and clumsily bowed, not used to being in the presence of royalty. The king acknowledged them and gestured for them to sit; they scrambled to obey. “Thank you all for coming,” King Charles addressed the small group. “The salvation of humanity rests upon your shoulders. Our civilization would crumble without your noble contributions to the cause.

“As a token of our thanks, I invite you all to enjoy a night of luxury in my palace. You will be provided with lodgings of the highest caliber. Eat and drink and be merry to your heart’s content, for tomorrow your lives will permanently change.” The king omitted that he provided such accommodations to keep the tributes from backing out of their obligations.

His expression grew serious and intense. “I have one more thing to ask of you, from those who have already given their all.” He paused before uttering words of startling gravity. “You need to do anything you can to assassinate the giant king.”

The air seemed to suck out of the room as everyone sat in stunned silence. Eren’s face contorted into a malicious grin. The king continued to speak. “We’ve tried, in the past, to smuggle in weapons or poisons, but our efforts failed miserably. King Richard’s royal taste tester is a giant with an exceptional nose for detecting poisons of any kind, so we weren’t able to hide any toxic substances in sufficient quantity to kill a giant. And, of course, weapons significant enough to maim a giant are too difficult to conceal.”

“But we aren’t going to give up so easily. You will likely be dehumanized, locked up, and powerless at your size, but don’t underestimate yourselves. Do what you can. Use your eyes and ears and voice. Gather information, foment dissent, endear yourselves to his enemies, use any scrap of influence you can get to worm your way into the minds of those with strength. Divide and conquer!”

The assembled parties nodded, the cogs in their minds turning and scheming. “Good luck to you all. Enjoy the rest of your evening,” the king concluded, excusing himself from the room. He sent in the servants with bottles of drink and sumptuous meat dishes and desserts for his guests to enjoy their final night of freedom. They ate and drank and reveled in luxury, yet the king’s words hung heavy in the back of their minds. No longer were the tributes resigned to their fate; they had a mission to accomplish.

Chapter 6

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #g/t story #sorry if this chapter kinda sucks I struggled with it and had to rewrite it twice #but the following chapters are much much better and worth the buildup!#it's hard to introduce so many characters so quickly but necessary for the story to happen

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moronic-validity · 6 months

Text

Stockholm Syndrome

Part 3 of Stockholm Syndrome

18+ as always, Warnings: This one includes near-drowning

The day passed.

He drifted to off at some point, but couldn’t seem to stay asleep.

He would wake up every few hours, walk around the cell, then lay back down and try to drift off again.

He could hear footsteps coming near the dungeon, but never going in.

He could be patient.

In fact, it would be better if he stayed out.

Simon wasn’t sure how much time passed before Winter walked in, pulling a small cart behind him.

“Ooooh Simon,” Winter called cheerfully to his captive audience, “I’ve brought you breakfast!”

Simon perked up, then steeled himself.

“There’s no catch, my love, I just want to make sure you’re eating,” Winter didn’t bother unlocking the cell, he just melted the bars, refreezing them once he was inside.

Winter raised a table from the ground, complete with a delicate tablecloth that appeared to be made from snowflakes.

“Simon, will you join me?”

Winter set the table, setting one plate on the ground and the other on the table.

That’s when Simon noticed there was only a single chair.

“Here love, I made your favorite,” Winter uncovered the plate on the floor, showing a bowl of cereal, “Come on over here?”

Winter took his place at the table and waited patiently.

Simon walked over to the plate on the floor and stared at it. It was a bowl of corn puffs, the breakfast he ate when he missed home.

“Before you even consider it,” Winter said knowingly, “dogs do not eat at the table. Your food stays on the ground.”

“I’m…not a dog though,” Simon weakly argued. He was still determined to not give him the satisfaction of breaking him, but he was hungry.

Winter clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.

He stood up and walked around Simon, placing a hand on the small of his back.

“Dogs should be obedient,” he mused, “but they need proper training, don’t they?” He smiled, rubbing small, usually soothing, circles into the small of Simon’s back, “Kneel for me.”

Simon considered his options. He didn’t want to give in, but he didn’t want to face Winter’s wrath.

Winter rested his other hand on Simon’s shoulder.

It was his last warning. Simon knew that.

Winter shoved him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of the bowl.

The impact made him clench his teeth in pain. His body wasn’t what it used to be and his knees weren’t the best to begin with.

“You always make things so difficult,” Winter moved his hand from the man’s shoulder to the back of his head, stroking tenderly, “Now eat.”

Simon looked for utensils and found none.

“Don’t you want a taste?”

“I don’t have anything to eat with.” His voice was flat.

“Oh, you are just so silly,” Winter said with a laugh, “Dogs don’t eat with spoons, do they?”

Simon stared at the bowl.

He had lost his appetite.

Winter saw the color drain from his lover’s face and frowned.

“Eat.”

“I’m not all that hungry…” Simon trailed off, knowing his words would have consequences.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, I told you to eat.” his voice grew colder and he tangled his hand in the older man’s hair.

“I would really rather not..” his voice wavered.

Winter clicked his tongue in annoyance.

It took one forceful shove to put Simon’s face in the now soggy cereal.

Simon gasped in shock, only to be met with a mouthful of cereal and a noseful of milk.

He did his best to push up and away from the milk, but Winter’s hand stayed firm, forcing him to hold his breath.

“Eat.”

The command rang out through the dungeon.

Fearful of being cut off from the air for much longer, he did his best to swallow the cereal that had invaded his mouth.

From the angle, he couldn’t seem to get it down his throat and began to panic.

He started coughing, causing milk and cereal to splash from the bowl and cover the surrounding floor.

Winter finally removed his hand from the back of his former advisor’s head.

Simon’s head shot straight up and he kept coughing and gasping for any bit of air.

“Enough of the dramatics Simon,” he rolled his eyes, “can you eat on your own or do I need to continue helping you?”

He took several more heaving breaths, closing his eyes and attempting to calm himself down.

Winter danced his fingers along the backside of Simon’s head yet again, a warning.

Simon bowed his head again, said a small prayer, and carefully took a swallow of what was left in the bowl.

He wasn’t sure why, but after the first mouthful, it seemed to get easier.

He kept eating.

Winter hummed in contentment and took his place at the other side of the table with his own food.

Once they were both finished, Winter took their bowls and put them back on the cart, then pulled the table back into the floor.

“You’re such a messy eater, my love,” Winter pulled the pocket square out of his jacket and wiped the milk and cereal off Simon’s face.

The act was filled with such gentle affection, that Simon closed his eyes and found himself leaning into his touch.

Winter smiled, then placed his handkerchief on the cart.

“I love you, Simon.”

“I…” Simon trailed off, opening his eyes, remembering where he was and how he got there, “Then why did you do all of this to me?” He stared at Winter, his expression hardening.

Winter tensed and frowned.

“I must be going now,” he walked to the door of the cell, having forgotten the cart entirely, “I’ll be back.”

Winter rushed out of the dungeon, clearly upset.

Simon sat back on the bed and eyed the cart that was left behind.

There wasn’t anything of note left on it, just the empty bowls, Winter’s spoon, and his handkerchief.

He couldn’t believe he had eaten on the floor like a dog.

He couldn’t believe all that had happened.

He couldn’t even remember what had started all of this.

He laid back on the bed.

He found his mind wandering again.

He knew he loved Winter, or better put, that he loved Winter at some point, but how do you love someone who treats you this way, He reminded himself of all the ways Winter had hurt him, but then his mind looped back, wondering if he didn’t have some blame in the matter.

He shook his head, a physical action to help clear his thoughts.

He had heard of it before, hell, he wanted to rely on it to get a wife.

Stockholm Syndrome.

Mix the cruelty with the loving gestures and eventually, they begin to justify the cruelty. They say the acts of violence were deserved and that none of this would have happened if they behaved. Eventually, the person would believe that it was love between them, not obsession and the brain’s attempt at survival.

Even as The Ice King, he could never bring himself to truly act out the level of cruelty needed. He never wanted to hurt people, he was just…lonely.

Maybe that was Winter’s issue, that he didn’t actually want to hurt Simon, that he was just lonely and terrified of losing him.

That made sense.

He knew that Winter had an amplified version of his own personality, and while the madness of the crown was broken, he knew from personal experience that there was a lasting scar.

The next time Winter came in, he would do his best to talk to him and, more importantly, listen.

#teddy talks #theo's thoughts #winterkov #simon petrikov #simon x winter king #simoncest #the winter king #simonpetrikov #winter king x simon #winterking #nsft

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