#raymond de merville fluff

[mistresskayla-blog1]

The Katarite (Storyteller)

Characters:

Raymond De Merville as Shin Minamoto (warrior) x OC Mizuki Heiki

Lyn's Writing Event - Week 3 - Day 19 (late submission)

May 19th: Week 3: Shinto (Japan)

Characters: Raymond De Merville (as Shin Minamoto, a warrior) x OC (female courtier turned samurai) Mizuki Heiki

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Pilgrimage (history jump)

Word Count:

Location: Near Kyoto, Japan, rural valley – circa September 1184   “Heiki Rebellion”

Warnings: graphic violence, samurai, ritual disembowelment, suicide, interrogation, dominance, death, character death, some angst, fluff possibly. (in full fic- part 1 is tame)

Definitions:

Biwa – bard (minstrel)

Heishi   - Soldier (belonging to an allegiance or faction)

Samarai – warrior (belonging to a master or family)

Isogaba maware – make haste slowly

            The wind rushed over Mizuki’s face, fall was setting in, leaves playing around her in swirls. She tucked her clothes tighter against her form, her hair in a tight braid down her back, blowing along with the wind. She didn’t want to shiver, as it wasn’t that cold, but she had been on the roads for hours and still was not any closer to the soldier’s she had seen pass her village a day ago. They must be resting further into the forest. Mizuki scanned the landscape, looking for smoke or sound. The sunset was falling behind the peak and a warm glow flowed through the valley towards her, reaching for her as she stepped towards the forest line.

Mizuki kept walking, trudging with her gear on her back, a small rattle of her cup kicked against her hip with each step. She was going to have to be quieter in the night if she was going to make it to their camps. The further she got into the forest, the darker it got around her, and she prayed against the medallion on her neck for good spirits to protect her. Mizuki stopped short when she heard some commotion, men were talking, and a fire’s glow was starting to take shape among the shadows of the trees. Mizuki smirked and set her gear down, slowly. She removed her cup, and shoved it into the sack, as she took out a piece of rope. She looked up and saw a branch from the flicker of the fire as it whooshed bigger suddenly. She was only about 10 yards away. She wrapped the rope around the trunk of the tree and scurried up it, resting on the first sustainable branch, tucking the rope into her sleeve. The branch leaned over towards the fire ring, she could see the men now, smell the smoke.

A twig snapped below her, and she stiffened, looking down from her perch, to see two darkened but bright eyes looking up at her. Mizuki held her breath, not noticing that the larger fire was illuminating her branch for that second.

The eyes dropped to the ground, and it spoke, a deep voice billowed against the crackle of the fire, “Do you know of any rabbits that climb trees?” Shin spoke to his men. The men looked towards him and laughed, in riotous response. “Not I? they usually keep to the ground, Captain” one said. Shin looked to Mizuki’s perch again, sneering, “Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Shin threw a dagger at Mizuki’s branch and she flinched, falling off the branch and crashing into his arms. Shin caught her, then set her down roughly and pinned her against the trunk of the same tree, “What are you doing here?” Shin gritted teeth shone, his breath on her cheek, his hand on her neck.

Mizuki’s eyes were wide, and she looked around her, the men starting to take attention at the Captain’s words. Mizuki found her breath and her voice, “I am coming to find the bards.”

Shin dropped his hand, “The biwa? Dressed like that? and climbing trees, you are far from the biwa” he shook his head, “Why are you really here?”

Mizuki stood still, Shin was still close, but he wasn’t holding her to the tree anymore. A light minstrel song started through the trees then, and Mizuki watched as Shin turned his head towards the sound. Shin’s eyes darted back to her, “I see. So climbing trees is just a hobby then, fair one,”

Mizuki looked down, “No sir, just a way of staying safe at night, so no one can,” She looked back up at him, and the pause made him understand. Shin smiled softly, “clever,” he praised. Mizuki allowed herself to smile shyly.

“What is your name?” Shin asked. Mizuki started to respond and a minstrel came up to them brightly.

“Good evening, I see you have found our muse, she has been wanting to find the brigade again, and travel with more, suitable company”, the minstrel jeered, elbowing towards Shin who was expressionless in the dim light.  The minstrel’s smile dropped, and he came closer to Mizuki, “My dear, we were worried you were taken, but I see you have found the soldiers you wanted”, Mizuki looked at him her eyes bright, as if to say ‘don’t give all my info away’.

The minstrel retreated and stepped away from them, attending to the jovial soldiers around the fire.

Mizuki shifted herself and stepped away from Shin, “I wasn’t. I am able to make it my own way, thanks Biwa”. Then as if ceremoniously she turned back to Captain Shin and said, “I am Mizuki.”

Shin placed his hand on his chest, “I am Shin, Captain of the guard of the Minamoto clan.”

Mizuki gulped quietly, knowing that she was now in the middle of the encampment of the rebelling soldiers of the Minamoto clan. She bowed slightly, “It is a honor to meet you, may I join your company for the rest of my journey,”

Shin looked at her again, inquisitively, “And what skill do you bring?”

Mizuki looked back at him, eyes sure, “I am trained in weapons, tactics, I can scribe”,

Shin looked thoughtful, “Can you cook? Or heal?”  Mizuki narrowed her eyes, trying not to be offended by the high skills she offered already. Shin, saw her reaction and tried a new tact.

“We don’t have much use for scribe, but we may, can you hunt?” Shin asked, rubbing his chin.

Mizuki grinned, “Oh yes, I can catch many things smaller than I.”

Shin returned the smile, “Good, well, then, welcome to the company.”  

Mizuki thanked him with her nod solemnly, “I will not let you down Captain.”

“See that you don’t. I don’t have much use for you if you cant fight, or pose as look out”, he smirked, looking back up to her branch, “Maybe you should work on that.”

Mizuki’s heart sunk a bit but was agreed that if he didn’t want her for any womanly things, she would be safe from harm, on the ground. The minstrels tended to drink too much at night and get rather handsy. Mizuki took to sleeping in the trees for safety, while the minstrels more or less fell asleep around the trunk of the tree she was inhabiting.

Shin watched her retrieve her sack from the tree, and was impressed with her climbing skills, her nimble little form scurried quickly and was down again within a moment. Much more graceful than when he had spooked her into his arms. She would have to cover her hair, and stop smelling like flowers too, that drew him a core sensation. He pulled the belt tighter on his tunic and took a deep breath. Mizuki did not notice Shin’s demeanor change, she simply walked past him wrapping her rope and sat down by the fire.

Shin walked to the fire to address the men, “Listen, I am introducing you to Mizuki, she, will be joining us for the rebellion, she is skilled, and will only take orders from me, is that clear.”

Some men were listening, and others were not, but most of them grunted or acknowledged Shin’s words. The ones that did, eyed her with devilish intent, and Mizuki tried to ignore it. Mizuki sat down, grabbing a bowl from the firepit ring, and scooping some stew out of the pot hanging. It was sour, and smelled foul, but she was starving, and she ate it even as it burnt her taste buds from the temperature. Shin again, watched her with curiosity.

Mizuki watched Shin now, realizing how tall he was against the other men, and how attractive he was. Mizuki squirmed in her seat, she had been offered plenty of manly options in her life, as a former courtier it was all duty and pretense, but she had laid with a man before. She had been betrothed, until he died from an illness. Mizuki still had not felt love, not known the stir of fancy. Looking at Shin now, something stirred within her, it felt dangerous, and different. Mizuki dropped her gaze back to her bowl and kept eating. When she finished, she set her bedroll down and curled up on it like a small animal.

The other men had fallen asleep, and the embers of the fire died down. Shin entered his tent, pausing towards Mizuki’s form, and retreating for the night on his cot.

---

The next morning, the sun broke through the trees early, and Mizuki heard the birds quell before she felt the sun. She gathered herself and went to find some food and water. A stream cut through the dense forest and Mizuki gathered water in her satchel. She drank from her hand, crouching at the stream, this time alert she felt a presence and drew her own kinife from her boot.

She stood quickly spinning around, “Better little sprite” Shin smiled down at her. Mizuki’s knife was poking into his tunic and armor, “Now, what are you doing out here?” he asked.

Mizuki looked at him puzzled, “finding water and breakfast.”

Shin looked along the banks of the stream, “I see, and what is it, you are going to find for us?”

Mizuki looked at him, confused, “Captain, you said I wasn’t the cook, but I can gather berries from over there,” she explained pointing towards a bush across the stream.

An arrow shot through the trees as she spoke, and Shin pushed her down to the ground swiftly, crouching himself against the embankment, “So much for breakfast,” he grunted, letting go of her, and running back towards the encampment. He shouted in Japanese, “Isogaba maware.”

(PART 2 tomorrow)

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @legolasbadass @scariusaquarius @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie @lathalea @enchantzz @riepu10 @amylupotter

Lyn's Writing Event 2024 - Day 19

[shiinata-library]

This story is finished on AO3 if you want to read it!!!

14 chapters and 63k words. Good luck!

Waking up in the Middle Ages [1/14]

Relationships: Raymond x OC

Summary: A modern French girl woke up in the Middle Ages, she was excited about mediaeval things until she realised it was less fun than expected.

On AO3

Note 1: I'm still alive! My life is complicated at the moment, and I have a lot of WIP of Kíli and Bilbo stories, but I'm a bit blocked on it, so I'm moving on to something radically different!

Note 2: the OC is French but the dialogues are in English to make it easier for everyone to understand.

Chapter 1

“Are you a knight?” Sophie, a French petite woman with brown eyes and long wavy chestnut hair, asked when she saw a man wearing armour stopping his tired, heavy steps in front of her. “Your armour is great! Shouldn't you have a horse if you are a knight?”

This very morning, she woke up alone in a cold forest she never knew. It wasn’t the only thing she didn’t know. How did she get here? Why didn't she meet anyone walking all day in this dark forest even in the afternoon? Why was this man dressed like a knight? Plus, he seemed hurt.

“Are you in pain?” she asked as she approached her hand to his bloody neck.

In a violent, quick gesture, he chased her hand. The metal of his gauntlet hurt her and she immediately frowned, stepping closer to him.

“I just wanted to help you! No need to react like that!” she shouted, her anger surpassing her fear at the sight of his face becoming furious. “Can you talk at least, or do you just hit people instead of answering? Even if you can’t talk, you don’t have to be like that! Let me help you.”

This time he grabbed her wrist firmly, very firmly, and his other hand went to the pommel of his sword. Sophie winced at the gradual pain, but she didn’t give up. She sighed as she tried to take back her hand.

“Fine, I won’t touch you. Can I just follow you to the next town? I don’t know where I am so…”

With an angry, haughty gaze, he made a no with his head, then he winced, some blood escaping from his wounded neck, even though it was covered by a piece of cloth. Instinctively, she came closer to him until she saw his furious gaze. Raising her hands in front of him, she apologised and promised she won’t touch him as she stepped back.

Leaving him no choice, she followed him. His steps were determined so she thought he knew where he was going, but when the sun began to set, she seriously started to doubt it.

“Admit you’re as lost as I am…” Sophie said as she was collecting wood to make a fire, which she guessed by seeing him stop walking to collect some.

His only answer was a half-sigh, half-groan. Well, maybe he was tired of hearing her talk all afternoon, but his armour was so intriguing! So detailed, so real! Something was so captivating about him! Next to him, she looked ridiculous with her normal clothes: a black slim jean, a green hoodie, and her sneakers. However, in the middle of the forest, he looked more normal than her.

When the night was totally dark, she was freezing. At first, it seemed a good idea to camp next to a river. She could easily drink or clean her hands, but now the cold prevented her from sleeping. Even the fire he made wasn’t enough. So she waited until he fell asleep to lay down next to him. His armour was less cold than she thought. Maybe it was thanks to the fire. In any case, she ended up sleeping.

The awakening was more brutal than she thought. The sun was barely rising when Sophie felt a nudge in her back. She grumbled as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. The knight looked at her as furiously as the day before.

“I didn’t touch you. I was only cold…” she sighed as she stood up to drink some water.

The first day was fun but if he already started the day by hitting her, she should abandon him. Who wakes someone up like that seriously?

After he put out the fire, Sophie thought the time she would go pee behind a bush he would disappear, but he was still in the same place when she came back. Weird, but something told her it wouldn't be the weirdest thing she would see today. As she was shaking her hands to dry them, her gaze ended up on his wounded neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take a look at your injury before we leave? It seems serious. You should clean it, at least with the river’s water, otherwise it will get infected, if it isn't already.”

Her tone was more serious than yesterday because she really started to worry about him. He looked at her for a moment before sitting down as he removed the piece of cloth around his neck.

Well, it was worse than she thought. She wasn't ready for this, plus she hadn't eaten since yesterday, so she almost fainted. The tree next to her was a good support.

Inspire. Exhale. Inspire. Exhale. Inspire… It’ll be fine.

She took his piece of cloth and cleaned it in the river. Then, she walked to him and sat down in front of him.

“Do you want me to try to clean your wound? Just a little. It looks fragile, and I don't want to make it worse.”

He looked at her for a long time motionless. It was hard to understand him with such angry eyes all the time, but she finally understood in his eyes he agreed. She cleaned his wound as best as she could and went to rewash the cloth. After drying it as much as she could, she gave it back. He couldn’t help but wince when he put it back around his neck.

.

Their morning walk was quiet and boring. Like the day before, the forest was the same and her companion was still mute. Could he talk with a neck like that anyway?

Plus she was hungry, so hungry! She would eat anything!

Apples! She ended up finding apple trees! She shouted of joy, startling the man next to her. She climbed a tree as she used to do when she was young, and picked four apples. Once one the ground, she gave two of them to the man.

“Oh, maybe I should cut it into pieces so that you chew as little as possible. Hm, I don’t have a knife. Do you have one?”

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised as he took a knife out of his armour and cut his apple himself. His neck was injured but not his hands. Feeling stupid, she looked away from him as she ate her apples.

Finally, after two new hours of walking, they arrived in front of a castle. Sophie was overexcited to go. 

“Is that a real mediaeval castle? It’s quite developed but it doesn’t look like a renaissance’s one. Oh, I’m so excited to visit it! Are you from there? Are you making a film in it? It looks great! So real! I love mediaeval things!”

A new expression appeared on his face. Another than “I’ll kill you if you touch me” or “Are you stupid?”. Now, it was more “What are you talking about?”, but still angry, of course. Could this man have had any eyes other than angry ones anyway?

As she walked to the castle, Sophie observed everything. The more she approached the castle, the more her good mood faded. Everything looked too real to be a film, and there were no film cameras. Was it real? How was it possible? Did she arrive in a place where people lived in mediaeval times? Like the Amish or is it a multi-day festival where people are in costume?

Everything seemed too real to be a festival. The mud and dirtiness were too real. The first time she saw the knight, he didn’t look clean, while her clothes still smelled of her washing liquid. Speaking of clothes, as she was walking in front of the entrance of the castle, everyone looked at her like a circus freak, yet her clothes were full of dust and her shoes were full of mud… It was true her clothes had nothing to do with theirs, but please, there were even children pointing at her!

Once they passed the drawbridge and entered the castle walls, she wondered if coming to this castle wasn’t a bad idea after all. Perhaps she should find another town, quieter and normal. The only advantage she had was that no one seemed to dare approach the knight. As much as they looked at her strangely, they lowered their eyes when they noticed him and went on their way.

Who was this man to scare so many people? Alright, just his eyes were scary, but there was something. Was it wise to follow him? Wasn't he going to sell her or trade her for food?

A shiver ran through her body but it was too late to turn back as the tall wooden door of what appeared to be the main dwelling of the castle opened before her.

“Sir Raymond de Merville,” a guard started as he bowed.

English wasn’t her native language, but Sophie was used to hearing English and usually understood when a person spoke in that language, but here she only understood a few words like "wait" or "master".

Sir Raymond de Merville as he was named by the guard nodded, then turned to look around with his arms crossed on his chest, visibly irritated. Sophie slowly came closer to him silently and did the same.

Sophie didn’t think a second she could be in another country. All the time she spoke to him, she spoke to him in French. It was surely the reason he never talked to her. She lowered her head, thinking about how much she must have annoyed him.

Yet, Sophie had one particularity. The more scared she was, the more she talked. So she didn't hesitate to try to talk to him again.

“Where are we?” she whispered, still in French, as she looked at the castle. “Why is everyone dressed like in the Middle Ages? Is it a cult? Will you sell me for a sacrifice?”

When she was about to ask him the same thing in English, she heard a small laugh but when she turned toward him, his smile faded. She frowned as she hit him on the arm.

“I’m serious! What makes you laugh?” she grumbled until she saw his eyes becoming angry and his gauntlet cracked as he clenched his fists. “Oh, I’m sorry. I promised I wouldn't touch you…”

For once, she didn’t try to speak again. She remained silent, as if speaking could give him a reason to sell her, or worse. 

When the guard came back, he opened the door and let him enter. Then, the guard’s eyes turned to her, expecting she would say something, but she didn’t know what to say or how to speak to him. His English sounded weird, or rather very old, something she never learned. 

Plus, if she truly was in a place like the Middle Age, anything a woman would say could be used against her, and she didn’t want to die today. Sophie realised she couldn’t speak as she wanted from now. It was already a surprise Sir Raymond de Merville didn’t kill her on the road…

“With me,” she heard in English in a beautiful baritone voice as the knight walked inside.

“Wow, your voice is beautiful!” she whispered to him in French as she joined him, hoping he understood what she said.

His only answer was the usual look “Are you stupid?”, but his eyes were just a little bit less angry than before.

.

In the castle, it was easy to understand who was rich and who was poor. The poor were running everywhere with simple clothes while the rich were just sitting and laughing, dressed in beautiful clothes. As much as Sophie was repulsed by things like people eating with their dirty hands or servants whose feet were so dirty that their toenails were as black as the floor, her eyes couldn't help but be amazed by the architecture and decoration of the castle or the outfits that people wore, both rich and poor.

Speaking of which, Sir Raymond de Merville seemed richer than any other knight. Even from his back, his behaviour and his gait showed he was important. Something she hadn’t noticed when she was in the forest.

The guard led them in a big room, in front of an old man who looked the richest of the castle. Sitting on an armchair behind a table, he stood up when the knight walked toward him. The other people found the plate more interesting than the knight.

“Sir de Merville,” he started as Sophie followed the knight, looking attentively at the old man to understand him. Yet, the only words she understood was “mission” in a way too much police tone.

The knight didn’t wait to answer. His first sentence was easy to understand, “It has nothing to do with you.” He replied in a low, severe voice. The next sentences were talking about “horse” and “room”, but it wasn’t the thing she was attentive to. The knight’s behaviour was still but his tone was harsh. The tension in the room was almost palpable. 

The rich man sighed and called a guard. He spoke to him, ordering him some words, until his look turned to Sophie. His old eyes made her so uncomfortable that she hid behind the knight.

“Please, don’t abandon me…” she whispered as she tried not to touch him. 

Sir de Merville sighed as he moved a little away from her. Sophie’s heart started to pound. Would he really sell her? For a room or a horse? For both? She wasn't even worth either of them at that time in history.

“I’m his healer!” she said in English, with her poor French accent, while her heart was about to explode.

The old rich man burst out laughing, and he wasn’t the only one after her intervention. The whole table laughed at her, men and women alike. One of them almost choked on his wine.

If she knew where to run away, she would leave immediately, but the castle seemed like a labyrinth for her, so she stayed still, looking at the floor until the knight spoke. His words were short but they all stopped to laugh before he firmly took her upper-arm and pulled her to follow him. The old man’s guard followed them as well, showing the way.

.

Once the guard left and a servant brought them something to eat in their room, Sophie could relax. Except the part where they were in a small room, alone, for the whole day and night. Something was different from sleeping outside, but she chased all her thoughts.

Thinking will be for later, now she must eat while she can. As she sat over the table, she tasted some plates, hoping she wouldn’t fall sick afterwards. Some of them were hot, so she ate them quickly, still leaving him a share. The knight removed his gauntlets, sat over the table, and ate in silence. Sophie was almost used to his silence, but now, she had a lot to ask him.

“Sir de Merville,” she started in English. “Thank you for not selling me to this old man. Can you just explain to me where I am?”

He chuckled before resuming his seriousness.

“Speak French. Your French is bad, but your English is worse,” he said in French in his now usual low tone.

His French was also difficult to understand for her, but it was better than English. Hearing him speaking French made her beam.

“You speak French! Then, you could understand me all this time! But your French is bad too, I–” she shouted with joy in French until he glared at her. “Oh, I’m sorry. So, where are we?”

“We’re in Ireland. Now, let me sleep.”

She always wanted to visit Ireland but not in this way…

The discussion seemed close since he stood up and laid down with his armour on the only bed, his back to Sophie. It wasn’t the night, so she wasn’t tired yet. She started to observe the room and touched everything as discreetly as possible, but when she heard the knight groaning, she put the candlestick she was holding on a table. 

Finally, she should sleep. No one could know what will happen tomorrow, so she might as well enjoy the warmth of the fireplace and sleep warmly. She took two covers in a trunk at the end of the bed and made a makeshift bed by the fire, hoping she won't end up full of ashes like Cinderella.

.

The next day, Sophie woke up at the sound of the knight’s armour. She sat up slowly, looking around the room to remember where she was. At the view of the knight, she quickly remembered everything. It wasn’t the kind of man she used to see when she was in her time, or her world. 

The knight was removing his piece of clothes around his neck.

“Hello Raymond, did you sleep well?” she said as she rubbed her eyes until she saw him looking at her with the look “I’ll kill you if you touch me”. “What have I done now? Oh maybe your name? How were people called in the Middle Ages? Not by their first name, it seems. By name? The whole title? I’m not going to call you Sir Raymond de Merville every time. Oh, by the look on your face, I suppose I should.”

He just replied with a sigh as he stood up to clean the piece of clothes in a water’s basin. 

“You really should find a healer to help you,” she said as she stood up and tapped her clothes to remove the dust. “It’s already a miracle you survived with this injury.”

“I don’t have the time for that. I need to live quickly to find a way to go back to France,” he grumbled as he replaced the piece of cloth around his neck.

“Oh! Can I go with you? I want to go home. Please, Sir Raymond de Merville,” she tried. “You will need an assistant, right? Knights always have a… How do you name him? The boy who follows you everywhere to help you.”

“You don’t seem useful at all,” he replied firmly as he put his gauntlets back. 

“Please! I will do anything you want!” she said as she ran to him until you remembered not to touch him. “Please, please, please!”

The knight opened the door and exited the room. Leaving the door open, he waited, looking to the right and left, before sighing “Follow me, but not a single word on the road”.

Sophie had never smiled more than at that moment. She quickly put her covers on the trunk and took her bag with her. 

The sun was barely rising and the wind was cold. According to the leaves of the trees, she had already understood it was the end of summer, and that wasn’t good. Living in the Middle Age was already hard, but in autumn or winter, she wouldn’t survive. Following the knight to France was the better thing to do. Maybe if she went to the place where her home will be hundreds of years from now, she could go to her time. It was the only solution she could find for the moment, so she decided to follow one of the scariest men she has seen in her life. 

Sir Raymond de Merville went directly to the stable. A young boy seemed to recognize him and brought him a horse with everything he needed to ride it.

“I need two,” he said but the boy made a “no” with his head. “It wasn’t a question.”

“I, hm, I don’t know how to ride. I don’t need one,” Sophie timidly said, receiving an annoyed look from the knight. “I can walk.”

The boy’s eyes shifted from Sophie to the knight several times. Without saying anything, the knight took the horse's reins and left the stable. Sophie quickly said a thank-you to the boy before following the man who was already checking the horse. 

After getting on the horse, he held out his hand to Sophie to help her to mount. She managed to get before him not without difficulty. He, who didn't want her to touch him, was now so close that she could feel his breath on her neck. To avoid thinking about it, Sophie concentrated on the landscape. Everything was trees, roads, and small houses. Nothing to do with the cities or even the countryside where she came from.

In the middle of the day, they took a break only to eat apples and let the horse rest. In less than half an hour, they resumed their trip. Sophie remained silent all the time, afraid that he would leave her in the middle of nowhere. Yet, there were so many things she wanted to say or ask! Maybe she could ask quick questions, right?

On the way in a quiet forest, Sophie cleared her throat. 

“What year is it?” she asked, not moving, her gaze still on the landscape.

The knight took his time to answer. Maybe he was in his thoughts, but he finally replied in a sigh: “1209”.

The 13th century, it could have been worse, but it could have been better. Sophie thought of his answers and all that it implied in terms of what she remembered of that period. A long time passed before she asked a new question.

“How long will it take us to get to France?” 

“A month, or two. Depends on the boats.”

Oh, right, boats. 13th century’s boats. It made her think so long that the night was about to fall and the humidity was already beginning to be felt. At least, it hadn't rained since she arrived!

As they dismounted the horse, Sophie understood they would sleep outside tonight, in a small cave. After helping him to gather some wood for the fire, they ate fruits and bread they bought on the way, with his money of course. 

As the first night they spent in the forest, she waited until he fell asleep to lay next to him, and in the morning he gave her the same awakening as the other day. After helping him to clean his neck, they resumed the journey.

Since the first day she arrived in the Middle Age, she wondered how and when she could take a bath. She only washed with the cold water of rivers to the most intimate places or those that could smell. So, she hadn't really washed for 4 days and she hated it. The water from the rivers was always very cold so she hoped they ended up in an inn tonight.

“Do you think we will sleep in an inn tonight?” she finally asked as the sun was high in the cloudy sky.

“Do you have the money for it?” he said, his first words from this morning.

“I could sell some things from my bag,” she answered, shrugging. “I have some objects I’m sure anyone could be interested in. Do you want to see them?”

“No. Don’t move or you will fall,” he said, still looking in front of him, as if she wasn’t here with him. “We will go to an inn when we get to the port.”

“What port?”

“The port to reach England.”

“How long will it take us to–”

“Two days. Now, silence or I leave you here.”

Ireland’s countryside was kind of beautiful, but she didn't want to be abandoned here, so she remained silent. 

Two days passed like the others. The knight bought food when they crossed villages, he made the fire before the night fell, he led the horse... In short, he did everything while Sophie followed him as quietly as possible. A few questions here and there, but nothing compared to the first day of their meeting. Sometimes she even fell asleep on the horse, her back against the rigid chest of the knight.

The afternoon they arrived at a big city with a port, Sophie’s smile came back, and her words returned. She was so excited about everything: Middle Ages port and boats, people, architecture, food, and oh! Maybe a bath?

They directly went to the port to ask when the next boat to England would leave. All the captains he had spoken with told him they would only leave in the morning. They had no choice but to stay in an inn for the night. 

Sophie could hardly hide her smile. 

They got off the horse and she followed him without a word. The knight walked in the city until he stopped to speak to an old man. Sophie didn’t understand what they talked about but she saw the knight giving the reins’ horse to the old man while he gave him a little bag of money. 

Still silent, Sophie followed him to an inn, then to a room. The room was warm and dry. The opposite of all the nights they spent outside. She smiled at the view of a bed and a couch. Such a luxury! She knew in the Middle Age an entire room cost a lot, maybe one third of the price of the horse, so she tried to help him.

“Do you want me to sell some of my things to pay you back for part of the room?”

“No,” he said as he started to remove his gauntlets, then his boots. “Don’t leave the room.”

“But I need to pee…” she sighed

“God! You’re worse than a dog! How many times did we stop during the day?”

He sighed as he saw her silence with a putting face. Sometimes she was testing his patience like a kid and he hated it.

“Go, but do it quickly. I’ll need you.”

“For what?” she shouted, impossible to hide her surprise.

“They will bring a bath, and with my neck, I’ll need you. You said yourself that you would do anything to travel with me.”

For the first time, she saw him laugh, surely because of her reaction. She stepped back a little, trying to compose herself. She had to help him to bathe while she couldn’t even touch him to heal him. She had trouble understanding him, but did she have a choice?

“Alright. I’ll be quick!”

Without delay, she left the room. After finding a discreet place to pee, she went to the marketplace. She was amazed by what she saw. Although the mud and the humidity were everywhere, the villagers seemed to be in a good mood. Sophie found a shop looking like an apothecary and approached it. She asked an old woman to exchange a remedy for her new notebook from her bag. Surprised by the quality of her product, she gave her several ointments and herbs, and then it took her a while to make Sophie understand what they were for. Not to forget anything, she wrote everything down in another notebook.

When she went back to their room, the knight was looking at her with his usual angry eyes. She dropped her things on the table and ran to him. The bath was already in the room while he was always fully dressed.

“I’m sorry! I’ll help you! Stand up.”

With a grunt, he stood up and raised his arms. Sophie had no idea how to remove an armour, so she touched everything until he commanded her all the things she had to do in the right order.

Surprisingly silent, Sophie did perfectly and quickly what he told her. When he was only in very light shirt and trousers, she started to raise the bottom of his shirt, but he quickly grabbed her two wrists. Her eyes raised up to his with incomprehension.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a low voice.

“What? I’m helping you. Don’t you want to take a bath?” she replied, frowning.

“Exactly, I'm going to take a bath. It's fine now, I don't need you anymore,” he said as he let her wrists go.

She looked at him entering the bath with his clothes until she remembered Middle-Age’s people never bathed naked, afraid of the diseases that the water could carry.

Sophie sighed to have missed the opportunity to see him naked. What little she had seen and touched seemed particularly muscular. Too bad.

“Give me the soap,” he ordered once he was laying in the water.

“Can I have a bath as well?” she asked as she fetched him the soap on the table with a hopping smile.

“You don’t need one.”

“Of course I need one!” she said as she crossed her arms on her chest. “I didn’t wash for days! My clothes are dirty from sleeping on the floor and I didn't even have the time to wash them! I’m sure I stink! I need a bath!”

“You don’t stink…” he loudly sighed. “Give me time to finish my bath in silence and the water should still be warm when I'm done.”

With a big smile, Sophie nodded. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the icy river water.

Leaving him to bathe in silence, Sophie observed and touched everything in the room, just like the time she had stayed in the castle. Some objects were so strange for her that she couldn’t know what they were used for. 

Focusing on a small object on the table, she jumped when he stood up in his bath and ordered her to bring him his towel. Or a dry piece of cloth called a towel.

She reacted quickly as he walked in front of the fireplace, his clothes dripping. After she gave his towel, she returned to her object, trying to focus on it while the knight’s wet clothes fit his whole body very perfectly.

Once he was dry, she had to help him to get dressed. The faster she went, the faster she could take her bath, so she hurried. Once he was fully dressed, she asked him to sit on a chair.

“Why?”

“Because I bought an ointment to heal your neck. Don’t move, I will apply it to your clean wound,” she said as she got the ointment from her bag and put it on the table before turning to him.

“You will do nothing!” he said in a low voice as he took her wrist firmly.

“You're hurting me,” she only said with eyes as angry as his own. “Just sit down. I won’t kill you! Why would I want to kill the only person who helped me? Just–”

His grip became even firmer and Sophie squinted. Not wanting to leave him without care, she insisted.

“I just want to help you because you helped me.”

She didn't know if it was the tone of her voice, her determined eyes, or her words that convinced him, but the knight ended up sitting in a chair without moving. Sitting in front of him, she applied the ointment with delicacy. Once she finished, she noticed his gaze. Something had changed. It was 5% less angry than before, or maybe 10%!

Sophie stood up, smiling.

“It's over! I leave you free! You can go wherever you want when I take my bath.”

“Wherever? I paid for this room, I won’t leave this room.”

“W-what? I don't want you to see me naked! Go out! I’ll be quick!”

The knight tried to stay but Sophie insisted so much, with so many endless words, that he preferred to leave.

Once she was alone, she could remove her clothes and enjoy the bath, now lukewarm. The soap didn't have a smell but it seemed to work well despite the water being dirty from the previous washing. All traces of dirt under her fingers were gone and her hair seemed much lighter and fresher.

When she finally felt clean, she stood up and grabbed a dry towel. Fortunately, they had several of them! Out of the bath, she wrapped a towel around her and took another to dry her hair. She walked to the fireplace, hoping she would dry quickly. But she didn’t dry as quickly as she thought., and when she heard the door open, she instinctively turned towards the noise, seeing the knight enter. She froze while he entered as if nothing happened.

“Hurry up and get dressed, it's almost time for dinner. You–” he started while he was closing the door, then he finally looked at her. “Why are you naked?”

It was the first time she saw his surprised eyes. He ran a hand over his face before taking a step toward her. 

“You’re a woman?” he said in front of her, his eyes still full of surprise.

She wanted to step back but the fireplace prevented her. With her towel wrapped around her, her feminine forms were more visible than in her clothes. She never told him she was a woman, but for her, it was obvious.

“Of course, I’m a woman,” she said as she restarted to dry her hair. “No need to come closer to see it. Wait, did you think I was a man?”

“You wear trousers, of course I thought you were a man!” he shouted. “A young man, more like. Where do you come from to be a woman and wear trousers? Do you know that it is the death punishment for women who do so?”

Sophie had totally forgotten that she was wearing trousers. It was so normal for her. She felt stupid, and she didn’t want to die. 

“I never wanted to lie to you,” she said shyly as her eyes looked down. “I thought you knew. I–”

“Leave!”

“W-what?” she tried to say.

“I understand why you said you will do everything to follow me now,” he said more coldly than ever before.

“No! This has nothing to do with I'm a woman!” she shouted, as much shocked as disappointed. “I really offered to help you! I never thought–”

“I don't give a shit, get out of my room!”

His last sentence was so cold and so aggressive, like a bark, that Sophie couldn’t say anything more. She remained quiet as she got dressed while he was looking through the window.

Her hair still wet, she took her bag but put all her ointments on the table with the explanations’ page. Focus outside, the knight didn’t react when she talked to him last night.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Sir de Merville. I hope you have a safe journey to France.”

As she closed the door behind her, she wiped the few tears she couldn't contain. Frustration, anger, disappointment, and sadness were eating her away from the inside, but the worst part was the hunger that had already started several hours before.

This story is now longer than I planned so I'll only post it on AO3.

>> The second chapter

[dashesofink]

Come Back

Drabble: soft kisses + kisses on the forehead + “I promise.”

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Reader

Word Count: 973

Warnings: none

Main Taglist: @legolaslovely @c4ts4ndstuff @t00-many-th0ughts @fizzyxcustard @anilynsworld

A/N: this is my first time writing for Raymond, so please bare with me!! 

It wasn’t often that the war-hardened warrior showed his caring side in public. He preferred to save that for you and you only. Though his hands were scared and calloused from constant use with a sword his fingers were gentle against your skin, gliding over your cheek before he cradled your jaw in his palms. Eyes that normally resembled that of a turbulent sea were calm as they looked down to you, now a blue that rivaled the bright sky that swam with a deep love for you. “I shall return soon, fleur.” His voice, though usually harsh and biting towards his troops, was soft and gentle like the wind. You had the luxury of seeing this side of Raymond, the caring and gentle side of him. Arms and hands that were strong enough to crush a man were gentle and instead took to holding you like a weightless cloud whenever he had the chance. As soon as he laid eyes on you the roaring lion in his chest was tamed, his heart racing with love and his mind going foggy.

Raymond ignored the heavy banging against his chamber door, and though he was tempted to curse at whoever was disturbing him he held back the urge, not wanting to frighten you more than you already were. Your fingers trembled as they brushed over the scar that fell across his temple, a small frown pulling down your lips when you looked into his eyes. Raymond’s touch was soft and caring, his fingers brushing over the skin of your lips as he tilted your head back. His lips met yours gently, his nose brushing against your own while he held you. Your hands ran up the length of his chest and over the cold metal of his armor until you grasped the collar of his cloak. “You must be safe, Raymond.” His dark hair meshed with yours when he rested his forehead against yours, a small nod coming from him. “Come back to me, to us.”

Pride swelled in Raymond’s heart when his eyes traveled downwards, one of his strong hands resting upon the swell of your belly. Your eyes stung with tears when he looked back to you. His eyebrows knitted together before he cupped the back of your neck, bringing you closer to his body. His arms wrapped fully around your frame as you latched on to him, and his lips pressed against your forehead before he guided your head to rest upon his shoulder. “I promise.” Raymond’s voice was quiet and reassuring.

Since the first time you had learned he would be leaving fear coursed through your body. It was hard for you to find peace over the news, your mind clouding with terrible thoughts and your heart aching with fear for your husband. A winded breath past your lips as you tried to calm yourself, yet your attempts were useless. Your fingers gripped on to his heavy cloak as you pressed yourself to him as close as you could. You didn’t want him to leave, to go off and fight some war in another place, away from you and away from his unborn child. You wanted him here, with you. Fists pounded against his door again, your body buzzing with fright at the sudden sound and you slinked closer to him.

Raymond let out a low growl at the noise, his eyes glaring at the large wooden door before he turned back to you. His hands trailed down your arms after he pulled out of the tight embrace, his eyes once again warm and dancing with compassion. “Stay strong, y/n.” Raymond brought the skin of your knuckles to his mouth, his beard scratching against your skin as his lips danced over your hand for a moment. You leaned into his touch when he cupped your jaw again. Having to leave you was hard for him, for he longed to stay by your side the longer you were with child. But he didn’t have a say in when he was needed for battle, or where he was going to fight for that matter. He knew how he felt about leaving and he didn’t even need to ask for your thoughts on the matter. The fear and pain in your eyes was telling enough.

You jumped when another series of loud knocks sounded throughout his chambers. You saw anger flash through Raymond’s eyes at the noise, his hands tightening on your fingers. But as he looked to you they softened, shifting to pools of bright blue that danced with love and were shadowed by his eyebrows. “I will miss you.” You forced a smile on to your trembling lips. The soldier outside of his door was growing impatient, you could tell, and you knew his continuous beatings against the door would earn him a harsh punishment from Raymond later. “We both will.”

It seemed his anger at the soldier could no longer be contained, a snarl forming on his lips as he verbally cursed at the man beating on his door again. Hurried shuffles could be heard outside of the door, the soldier calling meekly out for Raymond before he finally left you alone. With one last glance down to the swell in your belly Raymond smiled, his fingers falling once again to caress the bump gently. Your husband reluctantly turned away from you, his fingers dragging against the skin of your palm as he walked towards the door. Your heart clenched with fear in time with the creaking of the door as he opened it. Raymond turned back one last time, his eyes drinking in the way you looked and how his unborn child grew in your stomach, his lips stretching into a soft smile before he turned away.

“I’ll miss you both, more than you know, mon amour.”

[linasofia]

Masterlist

Thorin

Business & Pleasure

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (Modern AU) Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 I Part 7 l Part 8 l Part 9 l NYE

Bunnelê

Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader x Raymond de Merville (Modern AU) Part 1 l ...

A Shooting Star

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Part 6 l Part 7 l Art

Around the Riverbend

Thorin Oakenshield x OFC

Brothers in Arms

Thorin & Dwalin (platonic)

Among The Stars

Thorin Oakenshield x OC Riin (Crossover AU)

Raymond

Petite Voleuse

Raymond de Merville x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5 l Epilogue

Le Désir

Raymond de Merville x OC Cecilia Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Father Quart

Penance 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

Seven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

A Piece of Heaven 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

More Than Words🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Our Secret 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Coming Home 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x Fem!Reader

Sacrifice ����🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Charlotte Part 1 l Part 2

Love Never Dies 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Palmira Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Burning Desire 🧔🏻‍♂️✝️

Father Quart x OC Lucia

Various RA characters

The Night Train

Daniel Miller x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2 l …

Into The Woods

Dr Mikhail Astrov x OFC Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

The Game

William Farrow x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

Never Together

John Porter x Fem!Reader Part 1 l Part 2

The Call

John Porter x Fem!Reader

In My Head

Dr. Scott White x OC Emily

The Assignment

Lucas North x OC Lovisa

Richard

The Fire 🔥

Creature (Richard Armitage) x OC Polina

Hunger 🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader

Blood Moon 🧛‍♂️🧛‍♂️

Richard Armitage x OC Sofia x Matthew Clairmont Part 1 l Part 2 I Part 3 l Part 4

Naughty Thoughts 🐴

Richard Armitage x Fem!Reader Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 I Part 4

Event

Armitage Summer Splash 2022 Masterlist 💦

Asks

Christmas with Dr. Scott White 🎄

Christmas Eve with Father Quart 🎄

Art

Father Quart x me by @legolasbadass 💙

All pictures from The Man from Rome & Obsession by @enchantzz 💜

Thorin Oakenshield by @legolasbadass 💚

Thorin Oakenshield by @mysandwichranaway 💙

Star Wars

Starflowers

Obi-Wan Kenobi x OC Eliise

[lathalea]

The Devil and the Witch

Dear diary, today I was a very bad girl and instead of writing clean fluff like any other proper author would as request for their friend 🤭, I ended up with several thousand words of filthy smut. Whoops! ;) @fizzyxcustard I hope you'll forgive me for the smut instead of angst 🤭😈😏

Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017) Relationships: Raymond de Merville x Witch!Reader Rating: E (18+) Author's notes: Smut, filthy smut, and rough Raymond. I played kink bingo when I wrote it. Kink list: slight dubcon (if you squint), semi-public sex, praise kink, sexual denial, dirty talking, size kink, beard kink, unprotected intercourse

Proceed at your own discretion.

Special thanks to @linasofia and @legolasbadass for encouraging me to post this fic, you she-devils! 😈😈😈

The Devil and the Witch

In the fairytales you read as a child, witches were always old and creepy. They had rotten teeth, hooked noses, and claw-like nails. A proper witch had a broom and a mandatory black cat, too. You were different: your teeth were in a much better condition (thanks, Colgate), you were definitely younger and your nails looked cute with that translucent nail polish. No brooms nor cats around – you were allergic both to cleaning and cat hair. Perhaps you weren’t the very model of a mediaeval Irish witch, but you were doing your best.

What was an allergy-prone, toothpaste-loving girl like you doing in a place like mediaeval Ireland? The answer was simple: you had no idea. It was the 21st century when you visited the Green Island for a vacation. When walking around the ruins of an ancient castle, you slipped into a mysterious narrow stone passage and followed it, but when you finally reached the exit on its other end, you found yourself in a mediaeval village, 800 years before your time, with no way of returning. 

An elderly woman named Dubheasa found you. She recognized that you were not of her world – she called herself a seer, but the locals called her “the Witch”. She offered you to stay with her at the edge of the forest and you accepted her invitation, having nowhere else to go. It turned out that she was a kindhearted person with a great knowledge of herbs and natural remedies. She took you under her wing and taught you all that she knew. That was five years ago.

Now you were the Witch. Dubheasa passed away last winter, leaving her trade to you. The locals, even though they were still distrustful of you, visited you often to seek help in their ailments, to ask for advice or solutions to their problems. You weren’t as skilled with the herbs as your predecessor, at least not yet, but your 21st century knowledge made up for it quite well. The life you lead suited you. Somehow, you didn’t miss the pollution, the city noises, and the stress of modern life. Plus, this place had knights. Real, fierce knights wearing armours that perhaps weren’t too shiny, but those virile men had swords, horses, banners, and everything else a knight should have.

There was one knight who ticked all your boxes. The Devil. That’s how the locals called him and the first time you looked at him made you think that this moniker fitted him more than well. He was tall and dark as the devil himself, ha had devilishly handsome features accentuated by a scar on his cheekbone, and his steel gaze made you think of the flames of hell. His powerful, broad shoulders, his physique of a warrior, his bearing – everything about him exuded raw male power. There were tales of his fierceness in battle, of his bloodlust and cruelty, and yet you felt drawn to the Devil like a moth to a flame. You tried to deny it, but it was the truth. 

His name was Raymond, the only son of baron de Merville, and you couldn’t take your eyes off him whenever you saw him at the castle, as he passed through the village on his dun horse or rode out with his men. You would catch a glimpse of him many times only to find that he was staring straight into your eyes with that intense gaze of his. After several such occurrences, you learned to be more careful. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were some harlot, a loose woman. Proper maidens modestly averted their gaze whenever a man looked at them. They certainly didn’t ogle handsome knights like the Devil and they surely never thought about how it would feel to kiss him, how his beard would feel brushing against the skin of your breasts, what a beast he surely was in bed and whether Mother Nature blessed him not only with large hands but also with other sizeable appendages. Okay, you weren’t perhaps a very proper maiden, but you tried very hard to blend in. And so you visited the nearby village and castle from time to time, selling herbal tinctures and other products. If luck was on your side, you sometimes saw Raymond training in the courtyard, muscles bulging under his linen shirt, and those images gave you quite a few pleasant dreams during your lonely nights.

One day, as you were at the far edge of your garden, taking water from the well, a group of soldiers on horses stopped in front of your house. You frowned – only the local villagers visited you, never the soldiers nor the finer folk from the castle. And never Raymond de Merville himself. You swallowed, seeing him dismounting his horse. This wasn’t yet another of your steamy dreams. Raymond was truly here, entering your garden and approaching you swiftly, after ordering his soldiers to wait for him.

“So you are the Witch,” the Devil eyed you from head to toe with a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’m afraid so. And you are the famous Devil,” you made a pale imitation of a curtsy. You weren’t one for courtesies. “Sir Raymond de Merville to you, lass,” he grunted with a frown. This was a different time and one word of a temperamental noble could make you hang in a blink of an eye. You were too fond of your neck for such activities as hanging, so you played along.

“Of course, Sir Raymond,” you corrected yourself. “What brings you to my humble abode, my lord?”

“You, Witch,” his frown deepened as he spat these two words. 

“Well then, how can I help?” you put the bucket filled with fresh water on the ground.

“This has been continuing for far too long. You will release me from your spell at once!” Sir Raymond commanded you.

“I’m sorry but… what? What spell are you talking about?” Now it was your turn to frown but then you hastily added the customary title, “my lord.”

“I am speaking of the spell that you cast on me! I saw you lay your eyes on me that day during the fair. Since that day I can barely think of anything else,” he grunted, taking a stride towards you, his chainmail clinking. “I see you everywhere I look! You sneak into my dreams! The vision of you haunts me every waking moment. Your hair, your face, your…” Raymond shook his head and fell silent.

Were you hallucinating? 

“Remove your spell from my person with haste!” Raymond de Merville’s gloved hand rested on the pommel of his impressive sword.

Uh oh. Am angry man and a sharp blade. You lived for too long in this time to know how it usually ended. Although… what was that thing he said about your hair…?

“I don’t know where you came to this conclusion, but I have not used any spells on you. You have my word for it. I don’t even know how to use magic!” you shrugged, trying to play cool and telling your brain to shut up and ignore his words. The Devil was extremely alluring, especially from this close, but it was clear that he must have spent too much time riding in the sun or something to say such things about you of all people.

“Do not lie to me, Witch! I do not know why you are tormenting me so, but you need to stop it! I am ordering you!” Raymond fumed, his nostrils flaring dangerously. He was even more formidable when he stood before you like this, with his strong frame, thick, dark beard, and eyes sharp as the hardest steel.

“Do as I say or there will be consequences,” he added coldly, muscles dancing on his clenched jaw.

“Allow me to repeat myself, my lord. I do not put spells on people, I have more important things to do,” you retorted, taking the water bucket from the ground. “And now excuse me while I go about my business. The animals need to be watered. Have a good day, Sir Raymond.”

With these words, you turned your back to him and walked behind your house towards the barn. The door to the wooden building stood open before you when you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Sighing wearily, you adjusted the grip on the bucket’s carrying handle and turned around, ready to face the Devil again.

It all happened in a blink of an eye. He closed the distance between you with a smirk on his devilishly handsome face, ice-blue fire burning in his gaze. He covered your hand with his and the water bucket fell on the ground with a thunk and a splash.

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t carry such weights,” he half-spoke, half-growled, lowering his face towards yours. Raymond towered over you; he was even taller and more robust from up close and emanated some kind of powerful energy that made you freeze in place, all your witty remarks suddenly forgotten.

“What happened to your sharp tongue, Witch?” He lifted your chin with his hand. His gloved fingers felt coarse, almost unpleasantly so against your face. “Not so eager to oppose me now, are we?”

“I told you already, I put no spells over you! I am innocent!” you managed to utter, avoiding his piercing gaze, ignoring the emotions his closeness woke in you. This rough devil of a man with his rough manners oozed danger and you realised that he, the baron’s son, didn’t take well to disobedient subjects.

“Are you now?” His words made you think of a growl of a feral beast and he bared his teeth in a mocking smile. “There is only one way to find out.” Before you knew it, he pulled you close and covered your lips with his. Raymond kissed you as if he were a hungry wolf and you were his prey. You forgot to breathe. A faint cry of surprise left your throat but his mouth was taking possession of yours, demanding everything from you and more, conquering, his tongue brashly exploring  your mouth. He was insatiable to the point of making you dizzy. All the coherent thoughts left your brain, there was only the scraping of his luscious beard against your soft skin, his teeth grazing your lips, his palm splayed across your back, pressing you hard against his torso. “Well, well, well, who would have thought? You don’t kiss like an innocent maid at all,” his growl filled your ears. Contrary to your expectations, this was not a growl of disappointment.

“I never said I was an innocent maid,” you offered, thankful for the support his arms gave you. And speaking of who would have thought – who would have thought that a kiss from a knight would leave you not only breathless but also weak in the knees?

“You have never looked like one to me,” he caught your lower lip between his and then staked out a trail of wet kisses towards the side of your neck, leaving your skin on fire. “I saw you many a time. Your eyes are too hungry. Perhaps you are not a witch after all, but a common wench.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He has definitely noticed all the surreptitious glances you cast at him whenever you saw him. And here you were, thinking you were careful.

“I don’t know what… what you mean,” you sighed faintly when Raymond’s hand tilted your head to the side and his scorching lips assaulted a sensitive spot on your neck. He knew what he was doing to you.

“You don’t know?” he rasped out, facing you again, his darkened eyes set on your lips. “No…” you swallowed, hoping he hadn’t noticed more. This man was like a hot spark on a heap of dry firewood. And you wanted to burn. Badly.

“Then let me show you,” without any warning, he pressed his lips to yours and then swiftly took a step forward, still pressing you into him.

Your back slammed against the barn wall, driving the air out of your lungs. You were squashed between the wooden plank and his powerful body, your breasts helplessly flattened against the metal links of his chainmail, and the only thing you could think of was his lips and his beard violating your lips and every piece of uncovered skin without mercy. “What…?” you started faintly, but then he wedged his knee between your legs and his inquisitive lips returned to your neck. You were supposed to protest at this kind of harsh treatment, most women probably would in your place, but his ministrations made molten lava flow through your veins. Nothing, not even the kisses of your long-time ex from your time made you feel this way.

That was when Raymond’s hands started roaming your body. One rested on your hip while the other quickly found its way to your right breast and closed over it rapidly. A stifled yelp escaped you. A rumbling chuckle filled his chest at the same time as his powerful thigh moved slightly upwards, pressing against that special place at the juncture of your thighs and stoking the liquid fire inside you. You fisted his tunic instinctively, unable to ignore the heat pooling between your legs.

“You are enjoying this as much as I am, wench,” he rasped into your skin while lips travelled across your shoulder and down your cleavage, his prickly beard burning a new trail on your skin. “I can feel it.”

“Raymond, I…” you spoke dazedly.

“Sir Raymond, wench,” he pressed harder against you, lifting your chin to meet his demanding gaze. “Understood?”

“Yes, Sir Raymond,” you took a deep breath, overwhelmed at the sensations this commanding man woke in you.

“That’s a good wench,” he leaned in, kissing you hard and this time you answered with a matching fervour, your tongues fighting for domination in a duel of lust. Your fingers ran through the short hair on the back of his head. Raymond hummed low and grinded his thigh against the most sensitive part of your body, kindling the flames of desire inside you even more. His hand found its way into your chemise, pulling it down with one swift move. You heard the sound of ripping fabric and a whiff of cool air danced on the skin of your suddenly exposed breasts, a wave of arousal washing over you at his bold move. He was so unlike the men you had known in the modern times. You couldn’t imagine a man tearing a modern bra off you like this. Life in the 13th century taught you to dress like women of that time in Ireland. A long chemise was enough – panties and bras were a thing of the future.

Raymond’s greedy gaze rested on your newly uncovered skin and you saw how his tongue licked his upper lip.

“What have we here…?” His mouth covered the pebbled tip of your breast while he rolled the other nipple between his gloved fingers, making you arch your neck and whimper. You wondered how many marks he would leave on your skin once he was done with you.

“Look at you, wench, so eager,” he murmured against your breast with a smirk. That was when you realised that you pressed yourself into his thigh at a slightly different angle, moving your hips to the rhythm of his ministrations.

“Kiss me,” you managed to reply, feeling the familiar feeling growing between your legs, but then his thigh disappeared. You whimpered in protest and lifted your eyes at him.

“Are you ordering your liege?” his scarred face made you think of a cursed demon straight from the deepest pits of hell, hints of anger darkening his eyes.

You shook your head and a wicked little smile danced on your lips, “I need you to kiss me, Sir Raymond. Please, my lord?” 

“That was better, wench. Do not forget yourself again,” not waiting for your reply, he pulled off his glove with his teeth and then gave you another rough, insatiable kiss, crushing your lips with his.

A large, hot hand found its way under your skirts. It moved against your skin almost all the way to your hip and then cupped your uncovered mound. His fingers brushed against your folds teasingly, back and forth, making you let out a moan. 

“Your quim is as wet as the sea, wench,” he grinned. “Do you know what it means?”

Panting, you said, holding on to his arm, “Will you tell me, Sir Raymond?”

His lips brushed against your earlobe when his raspy voice found its way to your very core, “I’m going to plough you senseless.”

The heat deep inside you ached at the Devil’s words as you bucked against his hand, making him chortle triumphantly. You turned your head to kiss him, but his hands covered your bottom and hoisted you to his height. With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around his neck and felt his groin against you as you wrapped your uncovered legs around him, your skirts bundled up around your waist. Raymond’s hand dove between you, its back brushing against your moist folds and soon you felt something very hot and hard pressing at your entrance.

“Are you going to… oh… plough me senseless now, Sir Raymond?” you met his steel eyes, your lips skimming against his lightly. 

“Only if you are a good little wench,” his gaze sharpened immediately and a smirk appeared on his face. Raymond pushed hard into you, filling you instantly to the brim, stretching you deliciously. You were barely able to adjust to his size. Were all the mediaeval knights so well-endowed?

“You… You’re so… huge,” you gasped, barely able to form a full sentence.

“And you will take every single inch of me,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off your face, and then plunged deep inside you with one long thrust until he was seated to the hilt. “All of it.”

You gave out a lengthy moan and heard a horse neighing. Biting on your lower lip, you suddenly recalled the soldiers waiting for their lord on the road. And then he thrusted again, making you repeat your moan.

“We can’t do this,” you whimpered, holding on to him. “Your men…”

He slammed into you before you could finish the sentence, making you cry out with pleasure even louder than before.

“My men will wait until I’m done with you, wench,” Raymond pressed his forehead against yours. You felt every single of his words deep inside you, as deep as his powerful hardness delved into you, throbbing against the velvet of your inner walls. Another movement of his hips. Another intense stroke. Another one of your moans. He was conquering you, body and soul, one thrust at a time. “But they will… please, oh, they will hear…” you muttered as the next thrust hoisted you higher against the barn wall, delivering a new wave of pleasure.

“Let them hear your moaning, wench,” he rammed into you harder, making you see stars under your closed eyelids. “Let them know how well you are serving their lord.”

He repeated his movements, slowly but forcefully,  a sweet, intense sensation forming in your lower belly. “Please, oh, Raymond…” you whimpered, bracing yourself for yet another hard thrust that would send you one step closer to ecstasy.

It didn’t come. Your eyelids fluttered open, meeting the Devil’s cold stare. He wasn’t moving.

“What did you say, wench?” the Devil growled, holding you trapped between his chest and the wall.

“Raymond…” you mumbled, recalling the rules of this dangerous game. “Forgive me, Sir Raymond, I forgot myself.” You clenched around his hardness, making him let out a groan. He felt large, almost too large for you, but at the same he fit perfectly inside you, a sensation you have never felt before with any other man. A lightest of shivers ran through your body, a herald of more intense pleasure to come. “I have told you not to forget yourself, have I not, wench?” he spat out the words while his fingers fondled your breast roughly, pinching your nipple lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“Please,” you whimpered, clenching around him again and trying to move your hips on your own. You ached for him to move inside you, you wanted this man badly, you craved for the rapture only he was capable of giving you. “I need more of you.”

“And yet you said we couldn’t do this,” he rolled his hips against you, grinding into your sensitive nub, making you whimper again. Then his gloved hand moved to your neck, caressing it slowly and then closing around it, but allowed you to breathe, thick leather bruising your delicate skin. When he spoke again, his voice seemed to be full of anger or some similar emotion as he spoke slowly. “You have disappointed me, wench.”

“Sir Raymond… Please, my lord… I am very close,” you pleaded. At that moment, you would have said anything, promised everything, just to make him thrust into your wanton heat again, trapped in the hell of your own lust and hunger for him.

“First you need to learn your lesson,” the Devil’s piercing gaze rested on you, making you shudder as you once again felt the roughness of his glove on your neck. “If you wish me to continue, you will do as your liege commands. Do you understand?” “I do, Sir Raymond,” you whispered.

“You will not come until I tell you to. I want to have my way with you first. Will you be a good little wench and obey me?”

“I will do as you say, Sir Raymond,” you heard yourself say and then his hand moved away from your neck, lifting one of your legs under your knee and resting it against his shoulder.

You felt much less in control in this position, much more open and vulnerable, and yet the thrill of what was to come made you ignore your doubts.

“That’s a good wench,” he growled and baring his teeth, he suddenly pounded into you, delving even deeper inside you than before, at a new angle. And then he repeated his motions, once, twice, thrice, more, until you lost the count. You were sure that your loud, frantic moans were heard by the soldiers, but you didn’t care at this point. With your back arched your hips meeting Raymond’s hardness with each stroke, you couldn’t think about anything else than him covering your body with his, claiming every single inch of your body with his bold, powerful thrusts.

“See now? Very good. This is how a good wench takes his liege,” Raymond grunted into the crook of your neck, his beard bristling against the sensitive skin of your throat. “You do it so well. I may get used to your tight little quim.”

Everything he did, his rough caresses, his thrusts, each of them faster and more intense than the one before, made you balance at the edge of pure ecstasy, clinging to him, begging him for release.

“Do not dare to come, wench,” the Devil ordered in a low growl. “I am not done with you yet.”

“So close…” you mumbled through your swollen lips, your body shivering in anticipation, on the verge of bliss. You were losing the last shreds of control over your own body. “Please, my lord, let me come…”

Raymond grabbed your arms that encircled his neck moments before and lifted them, pinning your wrists with ease against the wall above your head.

“I said no! Not until I allow you to, wench,” he warned you and thrust swiftly inside you, making the barn wall wobble dangerously.

He made you think of a relentless machine, of a powerful engine going continuously, without mercy, pummeling into you mercilessly. Your moans turned into helpless mewling, your hips bucked and your body began to tremble again while Raymond’s movements became erratic, every single of them bringing you closer to completion.

“Not yet, wench,” he rasped again, squeezing your tender bottom. Waves of pleasure washed over you with each of his thrusts and you did not know where he ended and you began any longer. 

Raymond rammed into you with a series of short, final thrusts that went straight to the core of your being, and as he groaned, you felt a wave of heat spill inside you. That was what sent you over the edge and the bliss consumed you whole with the intensity of a supernova. Darkness claimed you and you could only feel his strong arms around you and your raspy breaths intermingling.

An eternity passed when you came to. You lay in your bed but didn’t remember getting there at all. Raymond lay by your side, resting on his elbow and observing you closely like a hawk. He wore only his undershirt and trousers, his weapon and armour no longer shielding his strong body. It was dark outside and only a faint light of a candle made the room somewhat brighter.

“What happened?” you sighed, feeling the sweet soreness between your legs.

“I am beginning to believe that you may be a witch after all. But I found a way to break your spell,” the Devil smirked, the darkness of his beard accentuated by the white of his teeth.

“Have you, Sir Raymond? What is it?”

“Disciplining you, thoroughly,” the Devil offered, cold steel flames igniting in his gaze.

“Me?” you batted your eyelashes in mocked innocence.

“You were a very bad wench, were you not?” he smirked, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “You came without my leave. Now I will have to punish you for it.”

Without a pause, Raymond leaned over you and gave you a rough kiss that told you everything you wanted to know. You were definitely looking forward to the punishment administered by the Devil himself.

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[middleearthpixie]

Magic Kingdom

Armitage Summer Splash #30 ! Well, I did it. 30 prompts, 30 days and now I need a nap. I blame want to thank @lathalea & @fizzyxcustard for my exhaustion this challenge! 🤣🤣

And so, for the last time...

Trope: Pirates 

Quote: “It meant nothing to me.”

RA Character: Raymond de Merville (Modern AU)

Relationship: Raymond x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pure fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,725

***

The sun blazed down on you and Raymond as you stood in what had to be the slowest-moving line ever. Florida in August was not the happiest place on earth, no matter what the Mouse promised. 

Still, when you looked over at Raymond and saw him just gazing about at everything, just drinking it all in, you felt your annoyance fade a little. He was still adjusting to your time and DisneyWorld was nothing like the thirteenth-century, which was where he was from. So, for him, standing there, not really moving, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It gave him the chance to observe, to see how everyday people in your time lived, the gadgets they used, the things they complained about—to him, these things were interesting to see and to hear. More than once, he’d expressed fascination as well as dismay with how people in your time conducted themselves day to day, and DisneyWorld was just a microcosm of twenty-first century daily life.

He turned away from the couple he’d been observing, each one oblivious to the other, their concentration focused on the cell phones each one held, and frowned. “Do the lines always move so slowly?”

His deep voice washed over you, and as the time went on, you found you understood  his English far better now than you had in the beginning. He still spoke with a heavy French accent, which at times made his English kind of amusing to you, but you’d adapted to hearing him, to understanding him despite that accent. The French he spoke was a little different from what you’d learned in high school, although you’d be the first to admit languages weren’t your strong suit, and you were learning that as well. And truth be told, there was something powerfully erotic about hearing him whisper to you in French when he made love to you, which made learning it a bit easier as well. You might not always understood what he said, but you certainly liked how he said it. And the blush that swept up from the edges of his dark beard when you asked him to translate his love words when the sex was over and you were lying quietly in his arms made it all worthwhile. There was something utterly adorable about seeing your fierce, thirteenth century knight blush at telling you he’d called you his beautiful flower in the throes of passion.  

You nodded. “You’ll see. This one is actually blazing along compared to some of the others.”

“Blazing?” Confusion clouded in his pale blue eyes. 

You smiled. “It’s moving fast compared to others.”

His dark brows rose. “Moving fast? This? I think not.”

“Trust me. It is.” You passed him the water you’d bought before getting into line. “Here. You look like you need it.”

He looked down at the bottle, already beaded with condensation. “But you were thirsty.”

“I’m fine. You need it more than I do.”

He shook his head. “No. You keep it. I’m fine.”

“Raymond… just take the water. I can get more if we need it.”

The line moved a bit closer to the actual ride. Pirates of the Caribbean. It was one of your favorites and you hoped he wasn’t too overwhelmed with everything. It was your first day in the park, and he’d already been a bit freaked out by the life-sized characters he’d seen wandering about, not to mention the frustration he’d had when It’s a Small World got stuck in his head and he learned the definition of earworm. 

You tried to play it cool, but you really were excited about sharing this with him. DisneyWorld was your favorite place to vacation, Pirates was one of your favorite rides, and you hoped he’d like it, that he’d fall in love with it just as much as you had. So far, the crowds seemed to be the only part he didn’t care for—not that it came as a surprise. More than once, he muttered something under his breath about wishing he hadn’t left his sword at home. He’d put up a fight about that, until you convinced him that not only would he not be allowed to bring a sword on a plane, but the TSA would probably have him arrested on the spot for trying. Probably not true, but better to let him think otherwise and leave the damn sword at home.

He sighed as he took the bottle and drained half of it in one swallow. “How much longer?”

“I have no idea.”

“Stay here.” He passed the bottle back to you. “I’ll find more water for us.”

“The vendor is right there,” you told him pointedly, gesturing to the kiosk near where the line for Pirates began. “Don’t wander off. I don’t want to lose you.”

He smiled and leaned over to brush your lips with a quick kiss. “I won’t become lost. I found my way from France to Ireland and back and without that GPS thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. You also got lost in Costco, remember?”

He scowled. “Everything looks the same in Costco.”

“But trees all look different?” You winked at him. “Just be careful.”

“Always, ma chêrie.”

You smiled, holding back your chuckle as he maneuvered his way out of line by simply stepping over the chains set up to shuttle you all through like cattle. By the time he returned, you’d moved all of ten feet. But, you were in the shade and that was what mattered, as it was far cooler under that awning. 

“And,” he pressed a fresh bottle of water into your hand, “I did not get lost.”

As he spoke, he draped his free arm about your neck and gave you a gentle squeeze, pressing you back into his chest. You sank against him for a brief moment, enjoyed the feel of his muscled body against yours, but then the heat and humidity reminded you why you hated August in Florida and you straightened up. 

Both bottles were empty by the time you were inside the building housing the ride and a few minutes later, you climbed into your car. The air was cool and damp from all the water flooding the ride, meant to recreate what being on the Caribbean ocean was like in the Golden Age of Piracy. Compared to outside, it was almost freezing. Especially with the fine layer of sweat misting your skin. You shivered, leaning your head against Raymond’s muscle-laden shoulder, smiling when he pressed a kiss into the top of your head and murmured, “Je t’aime, madame.”

You slipped your arm through his and squeezed as you began moving. He rarely said I love you in English and that was fine, since it sounded far prettier in French. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I do.” He jumped at the sound of a cannon being fired, then laughed as he said, “I think I prefer being on land to being a pirate.”

“Same. But, it’s cool in here, so there’s that.”

“True. I’m unaccustomed to this heat. It’s worse than at home.”

“A bit.” You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “Home? My home or yours?”

“Yes, home. And both, I suppose, but I meant yours.”

You squeezed his arm again and settled against him to enjoy the ride. When it was over and you found yourselves in the gift shop. You turned to Raymond. “What did you think?”

He shrugged. “I like being in the dark with you.”

“That’s it?”

“It was… interesting…” He reached out to pluck a set of rubber manacles off a rack. “Perhaps we might find a use for these?”

You bit back a smile as a woman passing alongside him with a toddler shot him a look of disapproval. He saw it as well and grinned. “I think she finds fault with my sense of humor.”

“Now her son is going to ask her what you meant,” you told him, taking the manacles from him. “Besides, you’d tear these if I tried to slide them over your hands.”

“You go first, then.”

As he said it, he leaned over and kissed you. “And I know it seems like it meant nothing to me, but I did enjoy the ride. And I did enjoy being in the dark with you. Are there any other rides in the dark we could try?”

“Space Mountain. It’s a roller coaster. I think you’d like it.”

He nodded. “I like the sound of this so far.” 

You slipped your hand into his and made your way out of the shop. Raymond’s thumb grazed yours and then he brought your hand up to brush the back of it with a kiss. “And where is Space Mountain?”

“That’s in this park. And with any luck, the line won’t be too long.”

“Shall we go there, then?”

“If that’s what you want, that’s fine.”

He gave your hand a squeeze. “You’re very agreeable, you know.”

“It’s your first time here, so whatever you want, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Whatever you want.”

“So,” he paused and moved to stand before you, “if I wanted you to marry me, you’d do it?”

You just stared up at him. “What?”

His eyes softened, a grin playing at his lips, and he rubbed along his bearded jaw with one hand. “Would you marry me?”

“Are you serious?”

He nodded slowly. “I would not ask if I wasn’t, you know. So, will you?”

You couldn't help your smile. “Raymond.”

“What?” He drew you into his arms, smiling down as he said, “Veux-tu m’épouser? Is that better? Shall I get down on one knee as we saw that man do near the entrance earlier?”

You shook your head. “No. The last thing I want is to be a spectacle. But, are you really asking me to marry you?”

“Love, how long have I been here? Almost a year now? Think you I’d ask if I wasn't really asking?”

“I know, but—” You just gazed up at him for a long moment, then smiled. “Of course I will.”

His arms tighten about your waist and he lifted you easily to meet his slow, leisurely kiss. As he lowered you, he whispered, “I have but one more question, love?”

“What’s that?”

“Do they have pizza here?”

***

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[relicshamecircle]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pilgrimage (2017) Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/the Mute Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Romance, Sleazebag Raymond de Merville, Mob Boss David, Raymond gets his ass beat, Blood and Violence, fluff at the end, all my fics end with fluff, even the mob au ones Summary: Mob AU. David's been patient, but Raymond de Merville owes him quite a bit of money. He is less than pleased when Raymond sends his unwilling date to David's office in lieu of payment. The young man, Diarmuid, is in some trouble, and David is enough of a gentleman to take care of his de Merville problem and also besotted enough to ask him out afterwards.

[birdkeeperklink]

Jeez.

So I'm supposed to be working on Harry's Cousins, but instead I started working on this Pilgrimage story where Raymond de Merville doesn't die - he's only mostly dead, and Diarmuid saves him from bleeding to death.

Started out a kind of serious look at forgiveness and redemption and differing worldviews, but 3000 words later Raymond is strong enough to talk and it's turned into the equivalent of a six-year-old playing 'I'm not touching you' with the poor long-suffering babysitter.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'm even capable of writing anything that doesn’t devolve into fluff and nonsense. XD

[caughtinafantasy]

Title: Pilgrimage (18) Year: 2017 Running Time: 96 minutes Director: Brendan Muldowney Cast: Tom Holland (Brother Diarmuid), Richard Armitage (Raymond de Merville), Jon Bernthal (The Mute) Notes: Nominated for two awards. Some parts in French and Gaelic, and even a little in Latin. Rating: 9 Thoughts: In thirteenth century Ireland a group of monks escort a relic across a dangerous land. The premise is familiar and I am immediately reminded of several films such as Viking The Darkest Day and Dark Relic, in general terms of the story. And that story is quite simple - take a relic to somewhere else, try not to get killed in the process. As a result the characters have all the focus and they are well rounded. In addition the various fight scenes are very nicely done with realism ahead of flair. This is fighting, up close and generally brutal. It's a good film example of everyone doing their thing well. It's a shame that some of it was filmed in Belgium as it would have been nice to see more of Ireland on screen. In addition they chop between the languages throughout, with a few moments where the character is surely speaking the least appropriate one. It feels real, there's no fluff, and delivers in all areas. I was surprised to see the 18 certificate as the fighting is no more explicit than many much lower rated films, and the couple of torture elements are not really visible. That will no doubt have limited the viewing. And that's a shame as this is a strong slice of medieval life with a solid and simple tale at its heart.

[mistresskayla-blog1]

A Calculated Risk

Characters: John Porter x Raymond Merville x OC Dina Sayed

Lyn's Writing Event 2024 - Week 3 - Day 17

May 17th: Week 3: Egyptian

Characters: John Porter x (crossover) Raymond de Merville (Modern AU) x OC Dina Sayed

Fandom: Richard Armitage – John Porter/ Raymond de Merville – Strike Back (Project Dawn- Porter Lives AU)/Pilgrimage

the character of John Porter was created by Chris Ryan, adapted for television by Simon Burke and Frank Spotnitz

the character of Raymond de Merville was created by Jamie Hannigan for the film Pilgrimage

Word Count: 2k ++

Warnings: military protocols, violence, graphic language, potential character death, fluff, angst, implied sexual relationships, money laundering, arms dealing, love triangle, rescue, espionage.

(This will be a full story – this is all I could get done in the time allotted, but it will continue this month. Also I keep using the name “John” and “Porter” interchangeably. I may go back and alter that later on. Sorry if it causes confusion)

~~~~

            Porter got his assignment that morning as he stepped onto the plane in Istanbul, Turkey. The two-hour flight gave him enough time to go over the dossier of Raymond Merville, a known arms dealer who had asked for assistance in retrieval in Egypt from a compound in Siwa Oasis. His commander, ________ (female commander) was very insistent, “Make sure you get him back in one piece, he’s a delicate piece of intel, but he is also a complete asshole.” John snickered over the coms as she said that.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Is there some package or whatever, or just him I am securing?”

Commander Eleanor Grant spoke carefully, “we need him, in person for the briefing, just get him here.”

“Understood,” John Porter responded, the call ended. Porter set his phone down on the table in front of him on the plane. And picked up the dossier again, opening it ceremoniously, and flipping through files, seeing a picture of Raymond in the file.

There wasn’t a lot to like about Raymond Merville, other than his penchant for drinking and gambling, along with arms dealing. He liked local flavors, and was well known to be a womanizer, John could respect that, as he was a bit of cad sometimes, but. The more he read the more it was reported that women he got involved with ended up missing. Including a journalist, an attaché, and two former undercover SAS agents. John gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow, looking out through the open window of the plane, a member of his team is not something he can contend with, even if it wasn’t on his watch, but two? Like it or not, Raymond was deadly to most women, and to intelligent and capable women to boot.

Porter made it his mission to keep him away from as many women as possible during the retrieval. The only reason he was going in, was that he looked similar enough to Raymond that his CO thought they could do a bait and switch with the Arab compound. A message came through the com – and he looked at it, it read, “New intel indicates he has an Egyptian national with him, Dina Sayed, CEO of a Financial Institution in Alexandria.” A picture of Dina Sayed popped up on his phone screen and Porter’s heart fluttered than sunk into his belly.

Porter spoke into his phone, “He’s escalating” he said sighing heavily.

Commander Grant, “I agree. Please keep an eye out for her, we both know her fate if you don’t.” Porter nodded, “Yes, I understand.”  

“Be careful out in Siwa, its pretty far from support, so make sure you have proper transportation in and out, we’ll rendezvous with you at the coordinates I sent,” Commander Grant explained.

“And Porter?” Commander said in question, “Yes?” Porter responded, “Its good to have you back.”

Porter smiled, as he looked out the window again, descending into Alexandria, “Good to be back.”  The plane landed in normal pace and as it hit the tarmac, Porter lurched in his seat, remembering the landings he has had in the past that were actually less smooth. He shook his head, clearing old memories and demons from his mind.

---

Raymond woke up with Dina’s arm draped across his chest, she stirred as he peeled her arm off his chest and snuck to the lavatory for a piss. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and felt the heat already creeping across the open door in his room on the compound. He pulled the glass doors closed, and the light-colored linen drapes stilled. Dina moaned against the duvet, “What time is it?” Raymond looked over at her, nearly naked in his bed and smiled like a cat with a canary. He approached the bed and sat down, clad in only shorts, “Time for you to get to work, love,” he said, his French-English accent whispering to her. Dina rolled away from him and sat up, retrieving her top off the floor and slipping it on, “Yeah, I know. I was hoping for some breakfast first.” She coyly smirked back at him over her shoulder as she stood.

Raymond came up behind her, across the bed and kissed her shoulder, “We can, soon. Let’s just get this thing done for Amed and then we can go wherever you want to go in the Oasis.”

Dina looked at him, “Amed said we couldn’t leave, how do you suppose we are going anywhere?”

Raymond sighed against her skin, kissing it, and causing tingles down her spine, he was so attractive, Dina thought. He was definitely wrong for her, she knew that when he approached her in that club 3 weeks ago. But he knew people, and Dina wanted to grow her business, even if it meant dealing with people that could, harm her.

Raymond kissed her neck again coming around the front of her and put his hand on the back of her neck, looking hard in her eyes, “We will get out of here, I promise you. I arranged a retrieval with my government,”

Dina stepped away from him, “What? In Amed’s house? Are you nuts?” Dina walked briskly into the lavatory. Raymond on her feet, “Dina! (he lowered his tone) Dina. Please. I can’t get out of this any other way this time. Amed does not let anyone leave this place without a fucking delivery or a toe tag. (he talked wildly with his hands) I need your money to get him his delivery.”  

Dina looked at him through the reflection in the mirror, “How do you want me to do this then? Because I’m not dying for you.” Raymond put his arms around her and looked at her in the mirror set into his chest, “I’m not letting you go, until I say.” His eyes darkened a little as he kissed her shoulder again and left the room. Dina shuddered, and splashed some water on her face, it was tepid, in the desert, water isn’t cold, even in the Oasis. She dried her face with a hand towel and straightened herself up a bit. Heading back to the bedroom where Raymond was casually leaning against the floor to ceiling doorway he had closed earlier.

Raymond turned to her, and smiled slightly, Dina approached him, tipping up to kiss him on the mouth, “I will make the arrangements for you, it should take a few hours, can you tell him that?” Dina came back down on her heels and he held her, looking into her eyes, “Yes, I can, thank you,” he nudged her cheek with his nose, and then dropped his hands sighing as he stared out at the Oasis. Dina finished getting dressed and pulled her laptop out of her large purse by the bed.

She pulled a key fob out of the purse as well, it had a read out that changed every 60 seconds for security, and never repeated a combination. Raymond watched her every move silently. Dina pressed her fingerprint to a key pad on the laptop keyboard and the computer loaded into a login program. She typed in her password and pressed Enter. It opened to an accounts setting. Dina scrolled through and found the corresponding wire information. She turned to Raymond then, “What’s his acct number?”  Raymond stepped towards her, and pulled out his phone, scanning they a folder and then showing her, but still not talking. “Thank you” she said, looking at it, and typing it into the form. She got the corresponding information and prepared the wire, “Amount?” She looked at him again, realizing he was standing just behind her, Dina felt a bit nervous with him right on top of her like that.

“45 millions euros.” He said casually. Dina smirked a little, that’s a good chunk for her she thought, he fee is 3% of transfer. Dina did the calculations, and sent through the wire, removing her fee ahead of the schedule. She looked at her device as the program prompted and typed in the 6 digit code before it switched again. The confirmation came up, and she looked at the “pending” status, and logged out swiftly. “There you go, all set.” Dina beamed up at Raymond, as she closed her laptop and tucked the device under her shirt.

Raymond beamed back at her, “Great. I will go tell Amed he can expect it soon,”

Dina walked to the window, “Less my fee of course”, a sly smirk rising. Raymond’s voice faltered, “You took it right away?” Dina looked at him, “Yes, why?” Raymond cleared his throat, “That’s very bold of you, what do I do about the discrepancy?” Dina looked down a moment, “You tell it’s a fee charge, what else, look I’m not doing this for a laugh. I need my own money to shift the company.” Raymond nodded, “I know, I want to help you, but this is a tricky deal, we have to be smart, how much did you take?” Dina turned, “1.3 million.” Raymond looked thoughtful, “I see, and where is that now? In your bra?” Dina looked more serious at him, “Don’t be ridiculous its in my other account.” 

Raymond rubbed her arms and up to her shoulders from behind, leaning into her shoulders a bit as they both stared out through the window. His hands squeezing menacingly, “Where am I supposed to get the other money then?” Dina shifted against his weight. “I told you 45 million clean, now your playing around, taking fees, he doesn’t know about?” Dina moved out of his grip, but he was fast and gripped her arm again. Twisting her to face him, “You don’t understand,” Raymond said.

Dina snapped back at him, “No You don’t understand, I am doing You a favor,” she pointed at his chest, walking him backwards, “And You will respect my position here.”

Raymond started to laugh, “Darling, the only position you are here for is to be on all fours, and give me that money,” Dina slapped him across the face, and moved to leave the room. Raymond was right behind her, pulling her back against his chest, “Don’t cross me either, I may be a pussycat, my dear but I can be fierce,” he nearly growled in her hair. Dina shuddered, staying still under his grasp, waiting for her opportunity to get away.

“Look, we can tell him together, if your so,” she swallowed, “nervous.” Raymond towered over her and placed a kiss on the top of her head, “Yeah, yeah, let’s do that,” his grip loosened as he calculated. Dina relaxed momentarily and they both exited the room to the main part of the compound.

---

            John secured a jeep and some gear, just enough supplies for the trek there and back. His rendezvous was just outside Marsa Malruh, near a small Bedouin village with a tourist salt cave. He had 28 hours to get Raymond and get him back to the rendezvous point. John thought about the woman, Dina, trying to figure out if he would have to retrieve her too. Surely if she was with Raymond, she knew the risk of staying in that compound. The compound in question was owned by Amed Al-Siwa, a very intense man with dark eyes and large hands. He had a short temper and a powerful sense of loyalty and honor.

It was 6 pm local time and Porter was driving into the sunset along the northern coast of Egypt, 6 hours on the road would get him to the compound just after midnight, and that meant, two things, the element of surprise, and cooler temperatures. Porter drove as the highway carried him to the southern roadway about 3 hours in. He stopped for petrol and pounded some caffeine pills he snagged in the shop. Its nothing but darkness in the desert at night, and wild animals, Porter wanted to stay alert. Porter checked his gear one more time, retrieving his Glock 9mm, and set it between the seats. He didn’t plan on getting stopped at the tolls, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen.

---

Taglist:

@scariusaquarius @riepu10 @sweetestgbye @lathalea

@middleearthpixie @evenstaredits @legolasbadass

Lyn's Writing Event 2024

[shiinata-library]

My masterlist ✨✍️

[ THE HOBBIT • PILGRIMAGE • SHERLOCK BBC • STAY CLOSE ]

English isn't my first language

The Hobbit masterlists

Bilbo

Kíli

Thorin

Fíli

Imagines...

Multiple characters

Aghäte, the decision is yours [113k words] Thorin, Fíli, Kíli or Bilbo x fem!OC | Different paths/ends | Only on AO3

Just the three of us ⋅ On the royal desk [1k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Just the three of us ⋅ Bilbo's birthday [2k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Just the three of us ⋅ How it began [1k words] x Bilbo x fem!reader x Thorin | Smut, PWP

Raymond de Merville Pilgrimage (2017)

Waking up in the Middle Ages [63k words] x fem!OC | Angst, fluff, eventual smut

Headcanon about Raymond de Merville being in love

John Watson Sherlock BBC

Not on the first date [3k words] x fem!reader | fluff

Ray Levine Stay close

Photography lessons [6k words] x fem!reader | angst, insecurity, fluff

📚 👉 My personal library with my favourite stories/fics: just here 

[hannibal-abo]

Richard Armitage & Co. Writing Event (2020)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dFXoBT

by ImJustFandomTrash

Hello everyone! these are all the works that I had written for my writing event that I had hosted on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy all these works and have much fun reading through them all <3

Words: 16236, Chapters: 21/31, Language: English

Fandoms: Real Person Fiction, British Actor RPF, Actor RPF, Sparkhouse, North and South (UK TV), North and South - Ambiguous Fandom, Hannibal (TV), Strike Back, Strike Back: Origins, Spooks | MI-5 RPF, Spooks | MI-5, Spooks, Pilgrimage (2017), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Richard Armitage, Reader, Thorin Oakenshield, Lucas North, John Porter, John Standring, John Thornton, Raymond de Merville, Francis Dolarhyde

Relationships: Richard Armitage/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Francis Dolarhyde/Reader, John Thornton/Reader, Raymond De Merville/Reader, John Porter/Reader, John Standring/Reader, Lucas North/Reader

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Romance, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dFXoBT

[ao3feed-thehobbit]

Richard Armitage & Co. Writing Event (2020)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dFXoBT

by ImJustFandomTrash

Hello everyone! these are all the works that I had written for my writing event that I had hosted on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy all these works and have much fun reading through them all <3

Words: 10837, Chapters: 16/31, Language: English

Fandoms: Real Person Fiction, British Actor RPF, Actor RPF, Sparkhouse, North and South (UK TV), North and South - Ambiguous Fandom, Hannibal (TV), Strike Back, Strike Back: Origins, Spooks | MI-5 RPF, Spooks | MI-5, Spooks, Pilgrimage (2017), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M

Characters: Richard Armitage, Reader, Thorin Oakenshield, Lucas North, John Porter, John Standring, John Thornton, Raymond de Merville, Francis Dolarhyde

Relationships: Richard Armitage/Reader, Thorin Oakenshield/Reader, Francis Dolarhyde/Reader, John Thornton/Reader, Raymond De Merville/Reader, John Porter/Reader, John Standring/Reader, Lucas North/Reader

Additional Tags: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Romance, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3dFXoBT

[fizzyxcustard]

Mine To Own (5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom:Pilgrimage 

Pairings: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Misogyny, a little fluff, sexual references, brief smut. 

Summary: You are to be married to Raymond de Merville - an arranged marriage between your families. When Raymond finds you, having run away, you know you have a lot of explaining to do. Will you ever reach any kind of agreement with your husband-to-be, and ever feel any kind of optimism about your newfound future? In the last chapter, Raymond has called off your wedding in order to protect you from a future he fears will be him becoming his father. With the requested prompt "When tomorrow comes, will you still be here?" by @lathalea

Comments: If you wish to be added to any of my tag lists, please let me know. As always, if you enjoy, please consider a reblog. :)

You lay on your side, most of your body bare to the candlelight which danced through the room. Raymond was on his back, his breath still hitched. After your sudden rise in passion down in the dining area, you and Raymond had retired to his chamber to participate in another three rounds of love making.

"You hide your sexual drive well, Cherie," Raymond chuckled. "I had no idea you could even outdo me with your stamina."

You giggled like a child, feeling joy and contentment settle in your chest and stomach. Raymond's smiles were almost constant now when in your presence, a very sharp contrast to his previous demeanour.

However, a doubt rose in your mind. A doubt which had been there all along since he had begun to show more warmth towards you. "When tomorrow comes, will you still be here?" you asked sadly. You rose from the sheets and turned your back to Raymond.

"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled by your sudden change. "Of course I will be. I have no plans to become a ghost overnight."

"The wedding is off now, which means you have even less ties to me. I've come to feel things for you, Raymond, things I never expected to feel. And it now makes me very aware of the freedoms you have, not that marriage would have stood in your way. I was stupid to think that you would feel any kind of loyalty towards me."

Raymond got up from the bed, his ice blue eyes still studying you as you began to dress quickly. He moved around the edge of the bed towards you and grabbed your arm, stopping you picking up your shoe. "Did you not hear what I said in the dining hall?"

Your tearful eyes looked up to him. "I did, but I don't know if I can believe that. You've changed these last days, but to change that much, and all for me? You're right, I live in fairytale hopes. Maybe I hoped too much that you could be faithful."

"A man can change for the better, Cherie, and I believe you have helped me with that. Allow me to love you and protect you."

"What will you tell your father now that the wedding has been called off, yet we are in the first stages of courting?"

"Fuck my father!" Raymond spat. "Nothing that comes from that man's mouth is honest or of good use. All he has done to aid me well is sign the contract for you to be my wife. I will not marry you as a sign of obedience to him; I will wed you as a sign of my love and devotion to you."

You got up from the bed and reached up, kissing him hard. The two of you sank down to the bed, your bodies becoming one yet again. Raymond could not get enough of you, now that his floodgates had opened to such a wonderful world. To love and be loved brought so much more satisfaction than the greed for meaningless sex, money and power. The way you openly gave yourself to him, smiled at him and spoke of your hopes for a future with him, it made his chest ache.

In the throes of your passion, as Raymond thrust back and forth, his body over you and in you, you knew you loved him completely. Everything felt perfect and so right.

You kissed down his scar, tracing from his temple to just beneath his eye. He exhaled as you did so, beckoning you to cherish him even further in your kisses and warmth.

***

When you returned home the next morning, your father glared at you. "Where have you been all night?" he shouted.

"I went to dinner with Raymond and then fell asleep. He must have taken me up to his bed as that is where I woke this morning."

"Do not lie to me! I receive word that he has called your wedding off! You disgusting harlot. He must have caught wind of you galavanting off into the night."

"Yes, he called the wedding off but not for the reason that you think, Papa," you shot back cooly.

Your mother remained quiet by the window, sat in her chair, sewing a new gown. Her dark eyes were wide in fright and for a few moments you stared at her, trying to beckon her to at least say something in your defence. But she knew better than stand up to your father.

"I arranged this union five years ago with the Baron. And now you have to mess it all up," your father continued, his voice getting louder.

"Get Raymond in here now and ask him why he called the wedding off. I was with him last night, Papa, if you must know. Yes, I'm a harlot, because I was in his bed. No one else's."

"He calls the wedding off but is still taking you to his bed?"

"We love each other and want to marry for that love, not at yours and the Baron's say-so."

Your father's face had grown bright red in his anger. "You've defied me for the last time, my girl."

He approached you, his hand raised. But you dashed for the door and ran, following the pathways to find Raymond.

By the time you got to the training field, you bent over and gasped.

Raymond saw you and strode over to you quickly, ignoring his men who were waiting for his next command. "Cherie?" he asked.

"Take me away somewhere, Raymond. I can't stand being here anymore. My father went to strike me because of the wedding being off. I told him we wish to marry for love and he thinks I'm defying him."

***

Follow Forever tag list: @lathalea @i-did-not-mean-to @luna-xial @linasofia @xxbyimm @meganlpie @guardianofrivendell @asgardianhobbit98 @spidergirla5 @middleearthpixie @knitastically @rachel1959 @msjava1972 @eunoiaastralwings @tschrist1 @sunflwrnsunnieshine

[lathalea]

Would you ever write a fic purely about Raymond de Merville as a teenager?

Haha, that's a great idea! Unfortunately, I see more potential in Raymond being who he is at the point in his life when Pilgrimage plays out so I would stick to it. And btw I'm still thinking of how to write your "fluff with Raymond" prompt. It's super challenging! 💙

[middleearthpixie]

Pizza

Armitage Summer Splash Prompt #23 ~ thanks, as always to @lathalea and @fizzyxcustard for the challenge!

Trope: Time travel 

Quote: “Do you regret being with me?”

RA Character: Raymond de Merville

Relationship: Raymond de Merville x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None. All. Fluff.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,752

Prompt #23 ~ Pizza

***

You never thought you’d have a sword in your bedroom. Or chainmail. Or any other sort of armor. But, there they were—the sword was propped by the dresser, the chainmail dumped in the chair (please don’t let it leave marks on the upholstery, as you’d asked Raymond a thousand times to not leave it there. Maybe someday he’d listen), the armor? Well, that was scattered throughout your apartment now. It was tough to explain to your parents when they came over for dinner and to meet the man you lived with why there was a shield over by the television set, leaning against the entertainment center. You told them Raymond was a RenFaire actor and so far, so good. They believed you. 

If you told them the truth, they’d think you’d lost your fool mind. And you really couldn’t blame them. How did you explain to rational people that a knight from the thirteenth century found his way into the twenty-first century? You had a hard enough time convincing Raymond of his journey through time but convincing your parents? Never going to happen. They would never get it. And again, who could blame them?

 You weren’t sure yourself how it happened. All you knew was you were at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looking at the special display of thirteenth century armor on loan for the summer from the Louvre when the city was hit with a blackout. It lasted only minutes, but when the lights came on, the knight you’d been studying so intently?

He blinked. 

And scared the living shit out of you. 

He’d stepped down from the low pedestal, sword drawn, glaring at you as he asked you something in French. You spoke almost no French at the time, but stared down at the point of the sword only inches from your throat and replied with the only phrase you could ever remember from seventh grade French class:

“Puis-je alle à la salle de bain, si’l vous plait?”

Can I go to the bathroom, please? You’d have facepalmed if you weren’t so scared. 

His eyes went narrow as he said, “Quoi?”

Thankfully, he spoke some English, and things didn't go downhill from there. Just the opposite really. He was truly a lost soul and once you got over being terrified of him, you felt overwhelming sympathy for him and so offered him a place to stay. It was supposed to be temporary, until you figured out a way to send him back to his time. 

Unfortunately, neither one of you could figure out just how to do that, and so you both accepted the reality. He wasn't going anywhere. At first, you weren’t exactly sure how you felt about having an unexpected roommate.

But now? Now it was a little different story. 

“What is it? What’s the matter?”

Raymond’s deep voice floated over your shoulder from behind you, his arm draped about your waist heavy with muscle, his fingers relaxed as they brushed your stomach. You smiled as those fingers pressed against you, as he tugged you closer to his chest. He did this every night if you ventured too far for his liking. His arm tightened about you and he pulled you flush against him. You had to admit, it certainly wasn’t the worst way to sleep.

“Nothing,” you murmured, your eyes closing at the soft sweep of his lips along the side of your neck.

“Last night went well, I think.” His lips now brushed your ear. “Your parents like me.”

“I thought you didn't care if anyone liked you?”

“I care if they do. For your sake.The rest of this city peut aller en enfer.”

“And that is?”

“They can go to hell. As long as your parents like me, I’m happy.”

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure they like you.”

You carefully turned in his arms. His blue eyes were no longer so cold as they’d been when he first stepped into your time three months earlier. Then, he’d actually tried to run you through because he thought you were a witch. Fortunately, you managed to convince him that even if you were one, which you weren’t, no one executed witches in your time. 

Not that his adjustment had been an easy one. Far from it, actually. Your modern world confused him and he didn’t do confusion real well. He grew sullen and angry and for a while, and you were pretty sure you’d eventually end up having to bail him out of jail at least once at some point. Thankfully, it had yet to happen, but you didn't rule it out in the future, either. It took the better part of two weeks to convince him he didn't need to carry a sword everywhere and almost as long to convince him armor was just as unnecessary, deodorant was a good thing, and yes, he really should brush his teeth twice a day. You still patted him down before you left the apartment together. Just in case.

Your romance began by accident. He looked really good in jeans and a tee shirt and you really couldn't help yourself one afternoon as you were trying to teach him how to use the camera on your cell phone. He’d taken something like fifteen selfies and not a one that captured his entire face. You took the phone from him, showed him how far to hold it away, and as you took the shot, you meant to press your cheek to his, only to have him turn toward you at the last minute and kiss you fully on the lips. It stunned you at first, but then… oh… your knight knew how to kiss. His lips were soft. His tongue teasing. And when you finally pulled away, he actually smiled. Smiled and winked and showed you he did, in fact, know how to take a selfish. Jerk. Nuzzling you, he confessed he’d faked not knowing how purposely, with the sole intention of luring you in for that damn kiss. Stinker. 

The first time you slept together came about when, after several glasses of wine, you’d asked him about the scars he bore—a j-shaped one on his right cheek and the ragged looking one on the same side of his neck. He refused to tell you how he’d gotten either one, but instead began showing you the other scars his body bore. Most were on his torso, but then he stood and tugged down his jeans to show you one on his thigh. At this point, you’d matched him, scar for scar, although yours were not nearly as interesting as his. Still, between the wine and lack of clothing, it was only a matter of minutes before your underwear landed atop the heap of discarded jeans and tee shirts and socks and shoes, and you and Raymond were going at it like a couple of horny teenagers right there on the living room floor.

And now there you were. In the arms of a thirteenth-century man you were slowly converting to a twenty-first century man. 

Of course, that didn’t mean the thirteenth-century ideals men had about women didn’t surface from time to time. When they did, you reminded yourself that killing him would be wrong and you wouldn’t be able to hide his body, anyway, and he did make up for it when you called him out on it. Besides, to be fair, he’d come a long way, so his occasional lapses were forgivable, especially as they came fewer and farther between.

Besides, moments such as these made up for his somewhat chauvinistic views, moments when he eased himself over you and bent to just nibble your lips teasingly. Or when he did this, but then leaned closer and nuzzled you, whispering endearments in French as he did. Half the time, you had to have him translate, as you were only just now learning his language, and you weren’t always certain he told you the truth about what he said, especially when he was annoyed at you and muttered under his breath to express said annoyance.

“Raymond…” His name floated to your lips as he swept a kiss along the side of your neck, his dark hair tickling your cheek as he moved.

“What?”

“We do need to get up. I have things to do.”

“As do I.” Another sweep of his soft lips along your skin, his beard prickly around them. “And you, ma chêrie, are the most important of them.”

You smiled. He was picking up your lingo much faster than you were his language, and you let your protests slide by the wayside as you eased your arms about his waist to trail your fingernails along his broad, smooth back. “Is that so?”

“Most definitely.”

“So, you’re happy here?” You shifted slightly to meet his gaze. 

“Do I look unhappy?”

“Well, not at the moment, no. But this world is so different from what you know, Raymond. Do you regret coming forward and not being able to go back? Do you regret being with me?”

His eyes, once so hard and cold, were now soft and tender as he shook his head. “Of course not. I love you. I love you and I am more than happy being here.”

You could only stare up at him. This was the first time he spoke of his feelings toward you, and hearing him say he loved you, in that deep, soothing voice of his, warmed you to the center of your being. 

“You—you love me?”

“I’d not say it if I didn’t.” 

“You look surprised,” he murmured, dipping to brush your lips with his once more. “Why?”

“I… I guess because I never thought something like this would happen to me.”

“Nor I to me, but here we are and here I will stay.” He kissed you once more, then with a smile, added, “Besides, you have pizza. And I’ve found I do enjoy pizza.” 

“Pizza. You want to stay here because of pizza.”

He offered up a wicked smile and wiggled his eyebrows. “And the Pill. A glorious thing, that.”

“You’re terrible, you know that?”

“Am I, though?” He carefully lowered himself completely against you. 

“No,” you whispered, losing yourself in his beautiful eyes, “I don’t suppose you are. And you know, I love you, too, right?”

“Good answer, love,” he murmured just before his lips claimed yours and you lost yourself in the magic of his kiss.

***

Like it? Love it? If so, please love it, leave a comment, reblog it, or do all three! 💜💜💜

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78