#@badbitsh13

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The Alliance

Summary: Princess (Y/N)'s hunt has finally come, and Ivar has more than a country to explore.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

A/N: I know I haven't been uploading and I'm sorry, I've been working and this story in particular requires a LOT of research (like literally so much). That said please enjoy this chapter, remember if its bold that means it is spoken in the foreign language. This chapter does include a hunting scene so trigger warning if it applies.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Taglist:

The celebration of Princess (Y/N)’s homecoming was indeed an event that would be talked about in Tunisia for months, and the Norse travelers would never forget it. The beach, the dancing, the music, the food that was served was all breathtaking and bordering comfortably on the edge of overwhelming.

It was only when the feast was entirely eaten and the performers were physically unable to continue that everyone agreed to retreat to their own homes to rest.

Ivar found himself on the back of his father, he couldn’t fathom hauling his weight on his crutches after he had exhausted all his energy during the festivities. However; it seemed Ragnar had reserved just enough energy to help his youngest son to the palace.

He even carried Ivar’s crutches in his arms as Ivar clung to his back, and Ivar saw how his father’s grip on them left his knuckles pale white.

‘You do not like my crutches.’ he said, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of them as they lagged behind the royal party on the way back to the castle.

‘I do not like them.’ Ragnar confessed casually.

‘Why?’

‘You do not need them, Ivar; you move slower with them. I can tell it exhausts you and you break more bones by standing upright.’

‘I haven’t bro-’

‘You have.’ Ragnar interrupted the lie, his voice suddenly stern.

‘I am not your mother, I don’t need to see and hear you crying to know when you have pushed your body too far for its limitations. Every time I tried to hold you for the first year of your life I broke a bone in my rough handling.’

At his father’s confession Ivar was left speechless; how many times had his mother drunkenly rambled that as a babe Ivar cried whenever Ragnar picked him up? Of course Ivar had not known why he did this, he was too young, all he knew was his mother was telling the truth about it. Aslaug’s drunken complaining made up a large amount of Ivar’s childhood and sometimes her drunkenness made her dramatize the events but this was one of the few that never changed; Ragnar never spoke of it in front of him.

Not once in all his life.

‘Even the night I left you in the woods, it was your right ankle, it cracked as I tried to swaddle you. I hadn’t intended to leave you that night, I was just trying to hold you and I couldn’t do even that without hurting you.’ Ragnar continued.

‘You must not be used to the palm wine these Tunisians serve, mead has never made you drunk enough to tell me this before.’ Ivar tried weakly to joke.

He hadn’t been prepared to hear this, he had long ago come to accept that he would die without ever having had this conversation with his father.

‘I must not be.’ his father let out a humorless breath of laughter.

‘How do you know when I break a bone? Is it the blue in my eyes?’ Ivar asked.

‘No, son; it is not your eyes, it’s your nose.’

‘My nose?’

‘It scrunches up in a wince whenever a bone breaks, even as a baby before the cries could fall from your lips your nose would give you away. I also know because whenever I see you break a bone I feel it.’ his father confessed.

‘I feel the same sickness rise up in my throat, the same guilt. My guiltiness led me to abandon you, my guilt kept me from loving you. Guilt over how you were born, guilt that my impatience and disregard to your mother’s warning cost you your health.’

Ivar did not need any elaborations on what his father was referencing.

“His mother said he would be a monster.”

“Not even ten and already a killer.”

“There is something not human in him, I just know it.”

“She wasn’t even pregnant yet and she knew he’d be vile and twisted.”

“He even slithers around like the great serpent, he will bring Ragnarok to us all!”

Phrases like these were whispered around him all his life; his mother’s prophecy that if Ragnar had her too soon she would birth him a monster.

‘I do not blame you, or mother, I am not angry with you father. I never have been… I never could be. I-’ Ivar felt like he was physically choking on the words he was trying to say.

It was the first time he’d ever said them out loud before.

‘I love you Father, even if you broke my bones holding me I never wanted you to put me down.’ he said pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, and let Ragnar feel the tears soak into the fabric of his tunic.

‘You do not have to blame me, I will even allow you to be foolish enough to forgive me, but son, I will never forgive myself for the way I treated you. You and your brothers are one of the very few things that keep me in Midgard, and I do not deserve the love and respect you all show me. I have wronged you all, in unforgivable ways.’

‘I have never heard you admit to being wrong.’ Ivar said around the lump that had formed in his throat as he at last got a hold of his emotions.

‘Do not get used to it, it will never happen again and I will deny it if you tell any other living thing.’ his father said, his voice once again becoming lighthearted.

Their emotional conversation had ended, and he knew that neither he nor his father would ever mention it again. Not to each other or to anyone else.

Not even the Princess would hear of this, he would keep this moment selfishly to himself for the rest of his life.

A comfortable silence fell over the two men and lasted until they were finally in the palace, where Ragnar placed his son down and placed the crutches down, sending them a distasteful glance.

Ivar looked over at the others and saw that they were still raving over the festivities and their eagerness for sleep and he looked back to his father.

‘I know I do not need them, father, but I do want them. I want to stand tall among other men, I'm tired of looking up at those I know are beneath me.’ he whispered as he pulled himself up on his crutches.

‘I will not use them forever, I will improve them…and myself.’ he promised.

Ragnar sighed and placed a sudden, unexpected kiss on Ivar’s temple and whispered into his ear in confidence.

‘You will be a man to be feared one day, Ivar the Boneless. Your broken body will never be able to contain your mind and violence.’

With those last words Ragnar went back to the group and he along with Aslaug retired to their chambers.

His brothers and the Tunisians all quickly followed suit, and gave quick and polite goodbyes before going their own ways as well.

‘Let us also retire. I am absolutely exhausted.’ (Y/N) said and indeed she looked like her will alone was keeping her upright.

‘Yes, I’m sure that kind of dancing used up all your energy.’ Ivar agreed and soon they began their journey to their newly shared chamber.

‘I enjoyed dancing to your heart beat. It beats in alignment with my own.’ she remarked as they entered.

Inside they were met with their respective servants who must have brought in their things before joining the feast, as all their things were now properly in place in the chamber.

To Ivar’s surprise and delight the princess sent them both away.

Occasionally on the journey the princess would feel very affectionate and would like to undress Ivar herself; it was another thing he came to rely on while they shared space on the ship.

He would always eagerly offer to undress her in return, she would graciously accept and they would lie in each other’s arms as they slept through the night.

Tonight, however, she was more slow in removing his tunic than she usually did and he could tell by the distanced look in her eye as her hands moved that her mind was not truly in this moment.

‘I will not be at your side when you wake my love.’ she said as she discarded the clothing.

‘How long will your hunt last?’

‘As long as it takes, after the hunt is complete I will be taken to the Skinner's hut to fashion the cloak alone. Every three days a hunting party will be sent after me, if I were to forfeit, they would escort me back safely. In which case I will have failed, and we would not have the blessing of the Great and Many.’

‘Then we would not marry.’ Ivar concluded.

A pregnant silence set in over the two of them as they undressed and remained even as they lay in each other's arms.

‘Can I make a request for my cloak?’ Ivar said at last.

‘Of course.’

‘Something warm. I will want to wear it often and the weather back home is not as nice as this.’ he said with a smile.

He hoped she understood what he was saying between his words; prayed she understood that he had confidence she would succeed and they would marry.

Ivar only needed to meet her watering eyes to know she did understand him, and more than anything else she needed his confidence in her.

‘I’ve trained since the day Sven left with his party, and I am even bold enough to call myself a warrior, but I have never hunted alone.’ she confessed.

‘I had never known true combat until our Matrimonial Fight.’ Ivar returned.

He was surprised that she looked so surprised.

‘Are you trying to console me?’ the princess accused.

‘I am being truthful. Sure on occasion my brothers include me in a bit of roughhousing, or I may even initiate a scuffle but they are never actually aiming to overtake me. Our fights are never true.’ Ivar replied.

‘I knew when I fought with you there would be no holding back on your part, you fought me as an equal and you hit where it hurt.’

The princess’s accusing eyes softened before she hid her face in his chest.

‘I did apologize. ‘ she yawned sleepily.

‘Nothing to forgive, I loved it. I loved fighting you, watching how skilled you are, seeing that look in your eyes as you look for a new place to aim. And if you hunt as well as you fight I imagine I won’t be waiting a full week.’ Ivar encouraged.

Ivar whispered soft assurances and praises until he heard her soft snores, and even still he kept silently praising her, hoping that his Gods would hear his love for her and give her protection.

As he himself finally fell into slumber he even hoped the Great and Many would watch over her as well.

When Ivar woke up he had known (Y/N) wouldn’t be there, but he was still disappointed by her absence.

A small pebble was suddenly thrown into the room, noisily hitting the floor.

‘I am awake, Trya.’ Ivar sighed as he sat up to see his thrall entering the princess’s chamber holding a Tunisian shield.

‘My Prince, did you not sleep well? Should I call for the healers?’ the woman asked, the concern for his legs showing on her face.

‘My legs are no worse than I can handle, and my sleep was sound.’ he assured her as she began to dress him.

‘You have gotten used to her being there.’ Trya realized, but immediately she went red with embarrassment at her impulsive speaking.

‘I’m sorry Prince Ivar.’ she said quickly.

‘No need to apologize when you are right, if anything I should apologize in advance for my bad mood while she is away.’

‘If I may say, I think she will return sooner than you think and with a noble animal fur just for you. In the meantime there is a beautiful village to explore and such wonderful people to meet.’ Trya offered.

Ivar knew the old woman was simply trying to cheer him up, and she was even right; but he found little comfort in her words as he left the room on his crutches.

Just as he began to wonder where he should go without (Y/N) to guide him through the unfamiliar palace, one of her servants, Kya, rounded a corner and approached him.

‘Meal before.’ she mumbled in broken Norse.

‘We are in your homeland, no need to speak a foreign language for my sake.’ he said in perfect Derja.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and began speaking in her mother language.

‘It is time for first meal, I will take you to the great hall .’ she said, her tone very confident and proper in her own dialect, before leading him through the labyrinth of halls.

Ivar was led into a large room where both royal families were sitting on the floor in a circle, all of them eating some type of bread and dipping it into something steaming hot from their bowls.

‘Ivar you must try this porridge, their spices are so flavorful.’ Hvitserk said as Ivar lowered himself down as gracefully as he could.

‘I must agree, we will definitely be trading a great deal of spices in the near future.’ Ragnar agreed, his own bowl nearly empty before Ivar had even received his portion.

The flavor of the porridge was very strong and delicious, and the bread was more grainy than the bread back home.

‘It is delicious.’ Ivar complimented as he ate with a bit more vigor.

After all, he had a long journey on the ship and had drank far too much at the feast.

‘I’m sure if my future daughter in law were here she would be flattered.’ Aslaug said, surprising everyone.

‘(Y/N) made this meal?’ Ivar asked, truly questioning how his mother knew this.

His mother sat aside her now empty bowl and looked at him in earnest, as she always had. As if she hadn’t ignored him from the moment he decided to sail here.

‘I was unable to sleep through your father’s snoring so I had a servant show me around the palace. The princess was in the kitchens, helping the cooks as they prepared her rations and first meal. We had a talk.’ the Norse Queen answered.

Ivar sent a look to his brothers, who looked equally as stunned, even his father had wide eyes.

Every word she just said went against everything they knew about their mother. Aslaug was often so drunk she could sleep through the harshest winter storm, she despised watching thralls work, and in all their lives they had never seen her set foot in any kitchen.

It hadn’t been a convenient coincidence, Ivar was certain his mother had snuck out of bed in the wee hours to speak to (Y/N) privately before her departure.

However, if anyone was waiting on Aslaug to explain her conversation with the princess, they were disappointed when she went back to her wine in silence.

‘Well then, what will you all like to do today?’ King Akashi asked the Norse royals.

‘We would like to walk through your markets. Your daughter tells us it was her most important duty as a child. The concept is both foreign and intriguing to all of us, plus we are eager to see in person the beautiful kingdom that raised our new princess.’ Ragnar replied.

‘Excellent, I shall give them a tour.’ Prince Ayo beamed as he stood excitedly.

‘Sit down.’ the queen said in a quiet but stern tone, the kind that came only from mothers and queens; and considering that she was both, her tone was truly powerful.

The child prince sighed in his defeat and sat back down on the floor.

‘You are not old enough yet my son, and you are not far enough along in your studies to walk the village and converse with the people. Until then you will spend your day with your tutors.’ the king said, seeing the upset on his son’s face.

‘I will send a servant to escort you through the markets, she will meet you at the castle gate.’

‘If I may.’ Ivar spoke up, politely asking to speak directly to the royal family, something (Y/N) had informed him was considered extremely polite.

The queen looked at him with a raised eyebrow before nodding her approval.

‘As my father has said, we are all eager to see your markets and kingdom today, but may I join the young prince with his tutors tomorrow?’

Now the queen was downright studying him, her gaze alone making the cripple straighten up his posture.

‘You wish to study here?’ she asked.

‘I have a great thirst for knowledge, like our All Father Odin, who traded his eye for it. It seems I already traded my legs at birth.’Ivar smiled charmingly, making a humorous face at the prince, who let out a small breath of laughter.

The queen smiled, seemingly against her better judgment.

‘Yes you may join the lessons tomorrow, I will have Bintu accompany you both to the library together tomorrow. She seems to want to get acquainted with you better.’ Queen Aza agreed.

‘Are you close with Bintu as well?’ Sigurd asked.

‘Of course, I personally chose Bintu to protect my daughter. She was my closest friend as a girl, had I ever chosen to propose a Matrimonial Fight she would be my instructor.’

‘I must say, while there are so many fascinating customs in your country, the one that fascinates me the most is your approach to your inferiors.’ Aslaug confessed.

‘No no no. I have no inferiors, my Queen Sister. I am Queen and I am the highest authority, but there isn’t one subject in all my kingdom that is inferior to me. Do you know how most commoners address queens in this country?’ the Tunisian Queen questioned.

When none of the Norse answered she smiled to herself.

‘Queen Mother; that is how I am addressed by every single one of my subjects. Queen to show me their respect, and Mother to show their love. Of course now the title is more than fitting.’ she explained, rubbing the roundness of her belly.

‘I may not know you well, Queen Sister, but I feel that the title was well earned. For I have never seen so many happy commoners, and I have certainly never met a young woman more amazing than your daughter. Truly you are Queen Mother, if I may, I’d like to accompany you today. I have been a Queen almost as long as I have been a Mother, but I am not blind to my shortcomings. I would like to learn from you, Queen Aza.’ Aslaug requested, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s.

At this Ragnar had to cover his mouth to silence his own gasp; Ivar was happy they were already sitting on the floor, had they been in chairs he is certain his brothers would have all fallen out of them in shock.

Years and years, all their lives, they all sat watching their mother drink away her affections and love for anyone other than Ivar. They had stopped expecting her love before they had even gotten their armrings. They never in their wildest dreams thought she cared enough to notice their disappointment in her as a mother.

Ivar looked over at his brothers and surely enough each of them had different expressions of shock.

Ubbe looked as if he simply couldn’t process what he’d heard, Hvitserk had dropped the grainy bread into his nearly empty bowl, Sigurd was wide eyed and his face was becoming red.

‘I would love your company, Queen Aslaug. In fact, I am quite done with first meal. I will await you in the throne room. I will send for Kya to accompany the rest of you through the markets.’ Aza said before holding out her hand to her husband.

King Akashi, who had been silently eating the last of his own meal while observing his guest, set aside his empty bowl and helped the queen rise to her feet.

The Tunisians bid their farewells, instructed a servant girl to give them a tour of the markets and departed.

As soon as the retreating footsteps could no longer be heard all eyes fell on Queen Aslaug, who had met their eyes confidently.

‘Do not look so stunned, have you not all wished for a better mother? A better woman to sit beside your great father on the throne? As I have no intention of losing my status, I must improve; at least that is the advice I was given.’ she said in Norse.

‘Why did you seek her out? You have been spiteful to all of us since the fight; you ignored us all nearly completely since she suggested sailing here.’ Ubbe asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

The hint of accusation was still noticed by his mother.

‘I had no ill intention, my son, I only meant to see her before she left for her hunt. A servant led me to the kitchens and there she was gathering her rations, we spoke and she left.’

‘What did you say to her?’ Ivar asked, not bothering to hide his suspicion.

‘She spoke to me, and I saw what about her you love. She is intelligent, wise and almost annoyingly well spoken. Though she hasn’t seen one of your fits yet, Ivar, I’m sure she will be able to control even your rage.’

The princes all looked between each other, wondering if the others believed a word of this; even Ragnar had been studying his wife to see if there were any visible signs of deception.

‘Mother, she is going on a hunt, alone, I don’t even know what kind of animals they have here. I need you to tell me with conviction that you did not upset her before she left to do something so dangerous.’ he was pleading with his mother.

Aslaug stood from the floor and looked around at her family.

‘I do not know why I sought her out, I don’t know what I wanted to say to her. I know what she said to me. That she can see the weeds of hate growing in all of your eyes when you look my way. That your frowns deepen when I speak to you directly no matter what I say…and now I can see how right she was.’ Aslaug said with a truly hurt expression painting her face.

‘You think I would be so spiteful to try and sabotage her hunt Ivar? Even you? It seems I have been far worse a mother than I thought.’ she said, her voice beginning to shake as her eyes misted.

Before Ivar had a chance to let the guilt take hold of his heart fully his mother had turned and left the rest of them to their now unappealing bowls of porridge.

The room was quiet, everyone needed to digest more than the food; Aslaug’s words had left a bitter taste in their mouths.

‘Do you believe her?’ Hvitserk asked.

‘Of course not, she has been wretched since she birthed us, that doesn’t change after one talk.’ Sigurd dismissed with irritation.

‘She seemed upset, maybe she does regret the way she raised us.’ Ubbe said in her defense.

‘How could you think so, Ubbe? What raising did we get from her? It was while she was meant to be raising us that you and Hvitserk fell through ice and nearly died. In her “care” Bjorn lost his first daughter! The only time the truth comes out of her mouth is when she knows it will hurt.’ Sigurd spat angrily.

‘She is your mother, Sigurd. You owe her your life and respect.’ Ragnar said, a hint of a warning in his tone.

The circle was tense now, despite the fragility of their marriage Aslaug was still Ragnar’s wife and not many Viking men allow their wives to be insulted in their presence.

‘I had no say in who my mother was Father, did I? Even still you are right, I owe her respect…just as she owes us her love, but unfortunately for her I no longer want it.’ Sigurd replied just as stubborn as he had been as a child as he stood up.

‘I will wait at the gate for the escort.’ he said formally before leaving.

Ivar watched Sigurd in a mixture of annoyance and understanding, no one could deny that Sigurd had been the most hurt by Aslaug’s neglect growing up. He was always the one to interrupt their chess games to ask if they could have a walk all together, and he was always turned away.

‘I know your mother was…is a hard woman to understand and that it was hard growing up when I would sail away, but I know her. For better or worse I can read that woman’s heart like fresh carved runes, and I think she is being genuine. Now if you excuse me, I believe I need to have a private conversation with my son.’ Ragnar sighed tiredly before he followed Sigurd.

‘What do you think, Ivar?’ Ubbe asked his youngest brother.

‘I think…my betrothed did speak with her, and I think the conversation went more or less the same way she says it does. What I don’t know is if she is accepting that conversation as a friendly warning or a threat.’

‘You think she would sabotage (Y/N)’s hunt?’ Hvitserk asked in shock.

‘At first I will admit I did think her capable of it, but in my heart I know that isn’t like her. I know I should have no say in it seeing how she doted on me, but she has never gone out of her way to hurt any one of us. I don’t think she ever would.’ Ivar answered honestly.

‘He is right, Mother never cared enough to be cruel to us, sure she poured love onto Ivar, but Ivar is going to marry. Who will be there for her to pour on to? Ragnar?’ Ubbe said strategically, as if he were discussing a battle in a war room, not his own mother.

‘So she wants our love now that Ivar has his own woman.’ Hvitserk realized.

The room fell into one last long silence before Hvitserk noisily slurped down the very last of porridge in his bowl and stood up.

‘Well,I’m flattered to finally be worth her affections, however, what she does will have no true effect on me, but I will not discourage her efforts.’ The middle son declared before he too left.

‘What about you Ubbe? Do you still long for Mother’s love?’ Ivar asked.

‘You know, I remember the day we fell through the ice.’ Ubbe said, surprising Ivar.

Neither Ubbe or Hvitserk ever spoke about that terrible day, no matter how strategically he and Sigurd asked about it growing up; and they had asked quite often back then.

‘We had followed mother and Harbard, because why not, it was too cold for fishing obviously and we were too young to hunt back then. They went into a hut and we went to get a closer look but there was a noise…a calling so inviting and pleasant it carried us away.’

Ivar didn’t want to reply and pull his brother out of his sharing mood so he just listened and let Ubbe speak freely. He had never seen his eldest brother look so lost in his own mind while talking before, it seemed as if he was doing more than remembering. He was there all over again, a small boy out exploring with his brother on a winter's day.

‘It promised such fun and we were so excited we didn’t realize how far we had walked, but we did notice when the snowy grass became ice beneath our feet, but the call assured us and on we walked further out on the ice. Siggy, do you remember her?’ Ubbe asked.

‘Of course, Rollo’s wife.’ Ivar provided.

‘She was a kind woman to us, mother often left us in her care and she had seen us on the lake, she tried to call out for us but what was her small far away voice to a call only we could hear? A call that must have been from the Gods? She chased after us but it was too late, the ice cracked and the call stopped as soon as we fell into the freezing water.’

Ubbe seemed to not even see Ivar sitting across from him anymore, he was lost in the memory of coldness.

‘The water was so much colder than the ice had been, or at least that’s how it felt, cold all over my body, cold water in the lungs. In that cold do you know what I thought, Ivar?’

Ivar shook his head no, and waited eagerly for the answer.

‘I want my mother.’ Ubbe said softly, leaning in closer, as if this was his most precious secret.

‘I wanted to feel the warmth of her embrace and for her to whisper soothing words into my ear to assure me I would not be forced out of Midgard so soon. I even thought maybe she’d heard my silent cries and rescued us, but it was only Siggy pulling us out of the ice. Harbard was there, and she managed to give us to him before her own life was taken by that cold water. After Harbard had brought us to Mother she asked him to heal us and once he had she sent us off to bed for rest…without ever touching us.’

Ivar, who of course saw that his mother showed him more love than his brothers, was stunned by just how cold the woman had truly been to her other children.

As Ivar chewed over his rapid change in family dynamics his bride to be was walking vast dry hunting grounds.

She was brought some comfort in the fact she wasn’t in completely new territory. She had gone on at least a dozen hunts in this area. Of course those hunts had been with full hunting parties of at least ten.

Hunting in large groups was a common practice throughout the world because the simple fact was that there is power in numbers. More hunters mean more game can be caught, and the hunters had a stronger sense of security knowing that there would be more people able to watch their blind spots in case of predator attacks.

More than that, for (Y/N) at least, hunting in a group simply made the experience of hunting much more pleasant. She remembers talking with the others as they walked for hours to the waterhole where most game favored to drink and bathe.

Now she was alone and could not afford any such pleasantries. She had to keep her ears and eyes sharp, there was no one there to assist her in spotting anything that may be lying in wait.

Another benefit of hunting parties, she had come to understand quickly, was that it entailed more provisions. She had a large canteen of water that weighed heavily on her hip, but she knew it would be all she had until she reached the water hole.

And that was a half day’s journey and as heavy as it felt the canteen only had so much water inside. So she ignored the dryness of her mouth, resigned not to drink until the sun was fully in the sky.

Along with her water canteen she had a variety of tools and rope to make shelter, her father’s blade, an ax, twenty ready made arrows to go with the bow she carried by hand and a fortnight's worth of food in the pack she had on her back. One fortnight’s worth of food.

One fortnight worth of food.

One fortnight, that is two weeks.

Two weeks is fourteen days.

She repeated these things mentally every mile or so, she was determined to keep track of the time. If she allowed herself to lose her senses she could find herself out here alone with nothing to eat, no water and no choice but to wait for the rescue party.

No. Even if it did come to that she would refuse to return, and that would mean staying not only to hunt for a beast but also hunting to survive.

The thought of scavenging for berries in the dry lands was almost as discouraging as the thought of wasting arrows on smaller prey before finding her true target.

Whatever that target may be; she thought guiltily.

She had promised Ivar a grand cloak worthy of his Gods but she had no idea what that even meant yet alone what animal she would hunt. Luckily the water hole would be sure to have a variety of beasts to choose from.

After what she guessed had been four hours the sun was finally shining at its highest point in the sky. She took the canteen from her side and took a singular large swallow of cool water before closing it off again, but she held the container to her forehead to feel the coolness of the water inside.

It had to be at least noon now, that meant about six more hours until she was at the water hole, but that would mean arriving at by nightfall and that wasn’t wise. She would have to stop and make her shelter for the night.

A large cluster of boulders and a tiny cluster of palm oil trees in the distance told her she had in fact remembered the path from her previous hunts.

The rocks were where her hunting party usually sought shelter. The formation of the boulders created a sort of rocky valley and with wood and leaves from the trees a roof and walls can be fashioned.

(Y/N) took special care in looking around for any signs of a predator before she removed her pack and dug out some dried biltong and a piece of plantain bread.

She kept alert as she ate quickly, wanting to make sure she didn’t stay here long enough to be found by any thing, but she also wanted to savor the chewiness of the antelope meat, and the bread was so filling on her empty stomach it felt as warm as an embrace.

Once the last of the bread had been eaten (Y/N) picked up her pack again and continued on, still chewing the last bite of biltong, trying to extend the longevity of its flavor and the mere illusion of eating. After she had finally resigned to swallow the over chewed meat she again took a single drink from her canteen, this time only a sip as it was less about true thirst and more a desire to wash down her brief meal.

The further she walked the more she thought over her plans for when she reached the boulders.

First she would find the best spot in between the rocks that required the least amount of material to fortify. Then she would go and gather the wood and palm leaves to make the roofing and walls, after that she would go again to the trees for firewood to keep her warm once night fell.

She tried not to get too comfortable or confident but so far she was pleased with her progress. She had yet to come across so much as an antelope so far and if there were no prey animals near her that meant the chances of predators were much lower.

Of course that also meant if she did encounter a hungry meat eater it would probably be extremely eager to eat the first thing it found.

With that in mind she kept her grip firm on her bow as she pushed on.

It was when she was only about an hour away from her destination that she heard a rustling in the grass behind her that was too isolated and sudden to have been wind.

With an alarming quickness she pulled an arrow from her pack and raised her bow, aiming at the direction of the noise.

It was quiet again, but she was certain she’d heard something and she wasn’t going to turn around or move on until she found and killed whatever had made that sound.

She focused her gaze and scanned through the tall yellow grass for anything out of place. She kept a special look out for spots and stripes; this was big cat territory.

A final second of quiet passed before finally the grass rustled again, and this time she had seen exactly where the grass moved.

Without hesitation she released the arrow and several things seemed to happen all at once to her.

Of course things had happened one at a time, and they happened in this exact order.

First; the arrow flew like lightning into the tall grass, second; a loud pitiful roar cut through the air, and thirdly a lion had leapt out of its hiding place.

With no small amount of fear and an even larger amount of alarm the princess readied another arrow and began back stepping, she knew better than to turn her back to this beast.

Now that it was out of the tallest grass she could see it was a truly pathetic thing. Its mane was shaggy and matted, several scabby bald patches that had been licked raw from over grooming littered his back legs and it was so unsightly thin even in her panic she could see its protruding rib cage.

Her arrow stuck out of its left front leg in a vulgar way as it tried weakly to chase her down, but already her fear was subsiding.

Even as she backed away to put distance between her and the lion so that she could have a clear clean shot, (Y/N) could see that the arrow wasn’t the only thing slowing down her attacker.

Yes it limped on its injured front leg, but it made a huffing whimpering noise every time his right hind leg hit the ground. Clearly something had tussled with this frail thing before she had and it seemed that unknown creature had done her a great kindness.

Once she was confident in the distance between them she released the second arrow and watched it land true as it sunk into the lion's skull and the weak body fell into the dirt with a soft thud.

A final breath escaped its mouth and sent up a small cloud in the dry dirt it now laid lifelessly upon.

With the beast taken down she found herself breathing hard, her adrenaline still racing as she approached it.

Up close she could better inspect it to see if this had been it, if this could be THE beast.

However, no amount of optimism could allow her to overlook the matted shabby dark mane, the many bald patches she could see in the lion’s coat or the clearly visible bites they exposed.

No, this wouldn’t even be worth skinning, not for her husband's cloak, but still leaving it here was not an option, it would attract scavengers and most of those were pack animals. So she took out her ax and made quick work of dismembering the lion and then did her best to wrap the remains in the blanket she intended to sleep under.

It was too heavy to lift alone so she attached the sack to a rope and dragged it the rest of the way to the boulders. By the time she had reached her destination her legs and arms were more sore than they had ever been in all her years of training, but she didn't stop to rest.

Just as she had planned she found a small rectangular spot that was perfectly spaced between two boulders that stood twice as high as she did. There she sat the lion sack before she went to fetch the wood and palm leaves. The sun would be setting soon and she would not be out in the open with a fresh kill at her side when it happened.

She chopped and dragged long branches for one hour, then she fashioned two walls about one foot taller than herself using rope to tie the branches together, tying the leaves together to keep out the wind. She installed her walls by burying the branches in the dirt making sure they were firmly planted. The roof was easier to make since she had to leave a spot open for smoke to escape.

Finally, just as she had tied the last bit of rope securing the roof to the walls the sun was beginning to set. She made her final trip to the grove of trees for firewood and quickly returned to her newly built shelter.

Her fire was burning strong as the sun set, but she did not lay down, she sat beside the fire watching the flames as she thought one thing over and over.

What beast was worthy of Ivar the Boneless?

[thranduilsperkybutt]

General + Longer Fic Taglists:

@im5-tw @hanoi15 @thatbitchann @genericbrowngurl @badbitsh13 @wayward-sociopath-221b @abisexualsailormoon @thatsjustdamncrazy @breadsquash @mydelightfultigerbouquet @midnightzonzz @stylebydesignxo @otassbek @a-pigeon-is-spying-on-me @mysecondcarisa67chevyimpala +  @beamingbisexual @nemos1994

☾ the gold & the rust ☼

Pic Sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings:  Astarion Ancunín/Tav!Reader Warnings:  NSFW; angst/comfort smut; yearning; Astarion is not ascended; mentions of past canon-typical trauma/abuse; the struggle of healing; Astarion has racing thoughts and you can't tell me otherwise; canon-typical biting; it's not about the sex it's about the feelings; spoilers for the endgame Word Count:  7,168 words Reader Gender:  Female Author:  Meg Summary:  You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again... A/N:  Look I blame Hozier for making too many Astarion-coded songs that make me sob my eyes out while thinking about the implications of his "good" ending. Astarion has literally changed my brain chemistry.

The sun cusps over the horizon, its soft tendrils spreading over a murky sky. Beckoning the night’s fleeing retreat with a gentle violence as the day demands more territory in each passing second. Sparse hues of blue manage to cling to some lingering clouds that have yet to meet the threateningly beautiful pink and orange sky.

Astarion reaches out from behind the heavy curtain and his darkness, towards the pillar of light that breaks into the privacy of your bedchamber. Pale fingertips dip hesitantly into the light, as if he could believe everything that has occurred over this past week has been only a dream. It takes but a moment for the evidence of his reality to meet him when his skin sparks and dusts under the light of day.

He flinches back, hissing lowly from the burning pain of it. Glaring down at his flexing hand as if the disdain in his eyes could change the fates that have turned the thread of his life into this ever-knotted thing. He’d never imagined he would miss having that damned illithid parasite in his head, yet here he was. Yearning to reach for morning again. Wishing to experience a dawn that may never welcome him again.

He hears the stirring moan, soft and drenched in exhaustion, and dares a glance away from his own skin and stinging regret. Stilling entirely, Astarion hopes he has not awoken you just yet. He does not wish for you to see him like this, in this state of self-pitiful detestation. Though he knows you may yet love him despite having seen it, showing the reality of his mind beyond his comfortable performances is easier said than done. Tension drips from his shoulders, if only a little bit, as he watches your body relax into the cushions with your blissfully ignorant slumber.

The sigh at his lips is shaky. Mournful. He looks back towards the sunlight and remembers how it had felt when it had forgotten how to punish him like this. He doesn’t know which is crueler: to have never felt it at all, or for it to be ripped away from him like this. In the brief time he was granted to finally walk in the sun again after the past two centuries, Astarion can’t help the fresh anger that bubbles up in him at the taking away of it. He didn’t deserve this--- any of it.

Truthfully, he has no clear memory of how the sun had felt to him when he was simply a mortal elf and not a spawn belonging to a master. It had been so long ago; memories fade over time when drenched in horror, he’s discovered well since. Still, something tells Astarion he loved the day even then as he did now. He’s certain he had always loved the heat of it--- the color.

The way it filters through your hair when you stand in the path of daylight, kissing the edges of your skin in a way he forever wished to share with it. It had been warmer and kinder to him than he had ever expected to receive, somewhat like you. You were undeniably beautiful in the light of day.

Even standing within the finality of the sunset of your journey together--- foes vanquished, coated in sweat and victory--- he had thought the same.

But nothing good ever lasts, he’s learned. At least, nothing but you. Astarion wonders if he would still grieve this much if he were to never have known the day at all. Would he know what he was missing? Would a piece of its cosmic heat have whispered of you to him, even then?

He can’t truly comprehend a world in which his fate had not become so intimately entangled with yours. Perhaps that is the worst part, how he knows he would always brave this feeling of loss to gain what he has with you. In the end of it all, he knows he has made the right choice to have this over the temptations of that infernal ritual’s power.

Despite that knowledge, Astarion truly hadn’t expected you to run after him when the lingering illithid protections dissipated from his being and the sun began its remorseless burning again. He had scampered away from the docks in an abject desperation, attempting to flee from the light’s betrayal. Astarion was the objectively faster party, but you had found him eventually--- you always seem to find him--- after he had taken to cowering behind wooden crates that cast a meager shadow of solace. He had been shaking, cradling himself, closed off entirely from the world as that sickeningly familiar taste of how things had been before--- back when he was still Cazador’s--- came flooding back onto his palate. His mind had become drenched in a fear he had thought could never claim him again.

You’d cut through all of it with your worried call of his name. Plunging him into the magical darkness you cast upon the both of you to shield him from the sun’s assault with such a thoroughness that not even you could see through it. His call of your own name sounded far too broken on his tongue for his own liking, but you’d followed the sound towards his outstretched arms all the same.

Dragging him up into yours, only a sliver of the calamity in his soul dissipated when you promised him blindly, “Come, quickly, I’ll get you someplace safe.”

Despite his better efforts, his voice shook as he allowed you to clumsily drape your cloak over his curls in darkness, unable to bring the deflecting humor to his voice that he so achingly wished would return, “Darling, you are a sight for sore eyes; or, you would be, I’m sure, if I could see you.”

“I told you this would come in handy,” you shot back, and he had been grateful for your effort at ignoring the bittersweet grief that so clearly drenched his soul in favor of reminding him of how he had teased you for spending a good amount of your gold on this very cloak when you’d all first arrived in the city.

His breath remained shallow, but his hand tightened over yours in what he hoped you knew was gratefulness when you finished ensuring the fabric had covered any of his exposed skin, “I shall never question any of your purchases again, on my honour.”

“Of course you will, Astarion,” he heard the slight worry in your voice as much as you tried to hide it. He felt the spell waning and with it the returning disorientation that even slight sunlight left him in. You had grasped his arm firmly and spoken with a confident determination that he suspected was as much for your comfort as it was for his, “Now, get ready to move quickly and keep your head down; the dark won’t last much longer.”

You were good for your promises, he’d learned over his time travelling with you, and that had brought some small comfort as the day reemerged before he’d had a chance to respond. Then, you were maneuvering him through the city, towards the darkness of Sharess’ Caress, with such a precision that he might think it more important than any quest you’ve had thus far if he hadn’t known better. Gripping him tightly the whole way, Astarion still has not dared tell you how grateful he was for it--- for you, surprising him against his better judgement every time with how you simply are.

It has been nearly a week now of you coming to his side in the night and yet some part of him still expected the other metaphorical shoe to drop. For you to come to your senses and tell him that you simply cannot carry on like this with him.

He wanted to believe you. Gods, how he wants it. Yet, he still felt like a fool to think he’s earned some love such as yours. He wants to believe he deserves the way you look at him like he can be what you see him to be. It’s too dangerous for his heart to invest in the thought that he maybe can. That maybe he is, already.

For you to look at him and tell him, “We’ll find it together. I promise we’ll find a way for you to walk in the sun again,” with such determination--- for you to be someone who genuinely believed the both of you could achieve it---

Well, you simply must be mad. He doesn’t know how else to explain these little ideas of yours.

Astarion figures you’ll continue to be as much a surprise to him as you’ve made a habit of in the past… and then there was that persistently annoying optimism of yours to contend with.

But this?

He doesn’t think that you understand the truth of the choice you’re making, to stay with him. To love him. How could you know it and still look upon him with such eager hopefulness as you do? He barely understands it at all himself, and he’s had centuries to come to terms with what he’s become. Forgive him if it’s a bit difficult to begin to understand just what “being something better than what Cazador made him” truly means.

He understands how much he wants you, though. He wants it all. The life that was stolen from him, the opportunities, but mostly for you to be there--- here. Where you’ve not wavered an inch from his side; you’ve given him no reason to think you plan on leaving anytime soon.

Why does he still fear it so much, though?

Some part of him had thought--- hoped foolishly, rather--- that killing Cazador would somehow fix two centuries of torment. Fix him. In the brief time after, he discovered that it hadn’t. In his elongated struggle, he worries it never will.

Nightmares still plague him, he still jumps at shadows, he still has thoughtless fear dart through his mind before he remembers again that his former master is well and truly dead. That simply existing in happiness was the rebellious proof of his victory over a man who he hopes will not haunt him forever. When he is with you, Astarion almost believes that Cazador won’t. It is some charm you have bewitched over him surely. Your ability to calm this chaos in him with soft eyes and patient hands that do not seek to own him, yet he eagerly chooses to belong there all the same.

Astarion still has trouble loving you like he knows you deserve to be loved. There are times when he can barely stand physical touch, though craves to want yours. And you understand the duality of the contradiction in him, taking only ever what he is willing to give.

Sometimes he thinks you too understanding, with little concern of how this affects you. He’s always baffled by how selfless you can be sometimes, particularly when you’re taking in strays. He has come to admit, if only to himself, that he does see the irony in his complaints. Moreso, he’s terrified of what will happen when that seemingly endless well of care you hold within you for others inevitably runs out.

What will happen when you can no longer bear his eccentricities? The compromises? The sacrifice that his double-edged love requires of you? Will there come a time when all he offers as part of being in this real love becomes too overwhelming?

Astarion had fallen in love with you in the easy warmth of sunlight. Looking upon you now as the dawn creeps against your sleeping form, his heart aches as he wonders if he can truly doom you to a life in his complicated darkness.

Selfishly, one thought consumes his mind--- he knows he wants to. He would want you, no matter the cost to you both. You have told him over and over again how you want the same but, Gods, he can’t figure out what he has done for this sliver of joy and it eats away at him in the dark. It’s unreasonable what he asks you to give him, but he’ll take it all the same. Bitterly he thinks, if he were a better man--- the man you see him to be--- he might even feel guilty for it.

For now, all he feels is the monstrous need to escape these racing thoughts in his head.

When will you walk away to join the sunlight for good? Hells forbid the answer his weary heart is preparing for ever be spoken from your lips.

Astarion hopes the day never comes when you choose to go where he cannot follow. He wants to spend all his days traipsing after you, wherever you may lead, no matter how much he may complain about it for show.

Astarion wants to spend all of it, whatever it may be, whatever he’s got left, with you. He’s terrified of the day that you change your mind on him. Fearful that you may one day decide these sleepless nights with a vampire spawn who can offer you nothing more than his undying love and sarcastic quips are nothing compared to the full life you could have with someone else. This theoretical, easy life in the sun that he dares to think he is stealing from you by loving you as he does.

Well, he supposes that reclaiming Cazador’s palace is always an option, rather than his other fantasy of burning it to the ground. Spending an eternity draping you in finery and keeping you to himself within a palace feels like something he should want, but he can’t help to think that it would be no better than making his love for you into a somewhat prettier cage.

More than he wants you, he needs you to freely want him. He’d be tempted to take up praying again if he had any faith that it could solidify your love for him forever, but deep down he doesn’t want heavenly intervention. He wants you to want to be with him--- to choose him willingly and without any regret for what the inevitable sacrifice will be. That understanding is, perhaps, what makes his heart swell with this bittersweet glory over all else.

You’ve told him as much and what your lips did not confess to him willingly, your body has whispered to his with an adoration that threatened to scorch him in much the same way of your beloved daylight. You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again--- this being the most horrible realization of all to have come to him tonight.

Hells, how desperately he wants to believe you, but Astarion has always had difficulty getting his hopes up. He hasn’t been known to bet on losing dogs, and he certainly doesn’t bet on his own odds these days.

But he figures you have more than enough hope for the both of you.

A minute smile quirks his troubled lips at that thought, watching your fingers twitch in your slumber. He shouldn’t doubt you as he does; you’ve given him everything. His freedom, his salvation--- even from himself, when he hadn’t known how much he needed it. Things he can never repay, and yet you’ve never asked him for a repayment. He owes you everything, but you’ve been adamant in tempering his sense of obligation. You’ve reminded him that everything he's done, he’s chosen for himself.

You’ve only ever asked him to love you, and that you have had for far longer than you know--- far before you ever actually plucked up the adorable courage to ask him for it.

He has come to love you more than he’s ever loved anything for as far back as he can remember. The depths of his adoration could scare even him with the raw vulnerability he is left with when it comes to you. How beautifully all his plans and plots for self-preservation have backfired upon him, though. He would not have you destroy his peace of mind in any other way.

Maybe one day, he’ll admit to you exactly when his nice, simple plan truly began to fall apart. The idea dances in his mind, of how you’ll react to that particular information. You’d hang on his every word, he thinks--- it would be rather pathetic of you, if he weren’t in much the same state.

Gripping the curtain, Astarion finally deems it time to push the budding light out of his darkness. If it is to be the only place he may have you for all of your days, he’ll make his darkness a sacred place. He decides he shall worship you in it--- all other gods have forsaken him already. Until the day his little hero saves him once again, he will indulge in this darkness with you.

The patriars nipping at your heels for guidance, the unwashed masses of the Gate clamoring for their glimpse of his hero, even your other traveling companions--- none of them shall invade upon this sanctuary.

He moves towards the bed, returning to you. Exhausted from a late day in the city and an even later night of enjoying his company, you’ve taken to claiming sleep when you can these days. The evidence of your labor rests in the dark circles under your eyes. He doesn’t think he could stop you from your philanthropic efforts assisting the city’s reconstruction even if he tried.

Still, right now, in these hours you are only his.

He dips his weight onto the bed and lays himself alongside you, pulling you tenderly against him as his lips graze your neck. Truly, he knows it is cruel to wake you, but he doesn’t know how he can manage to miss someone like this when you are right before him. It is as if his very soul yearns for you. He melts against the rhythmic flutter of your heart, and it sounds more like his home than the palace he has spent the last two hundred years in ever could.

Teeth graze against your carotid pulse, and you stir slightly. He hums into the soft warmth of your flesh, biting without intent to draw blood--- though the thought of it does cross his mind. He has never recovered from the taste of you. Cold fingers curl into your bare hip, dragging you slightly closer at the feeling of your waking movements.

Your pulse picks up against his lips. Astarion hears the patter of your heart in your ribs as his tongue drags up your throat towards your ear. Your breath hitches when his lips graze your jaw, but your eyes remain closed.

His lips twitch with mirth at your effort to have him do as he pleases.

“Quite the show, my little love, but I know you’re awake,” Astarion murmurs, slurred from the back of his throat like a man lost in thorough indulgence. Drunk with the scent of you on his skin, he leaves another faux bite on your jaw as you squirm beneath his assault.

“Shall you feed again, is that it?” yawning, your hand rubs at your eyes before you blink them open. When his hands run up your sides, your answering shiver reminds him of that first night he’d fed from you. Lit only by the campfire, you had allowed him to take too much before stopping him, even then.

He chuckles breathlessly, shifting the covers to invade your space more completely as you come back to your consciousness piece by piece, “As tempting as it is when you offer oh so nicely to be my treat, I hunger for something more satisfying this morn.”

“Ah,” you gasp from sleep-drenched shock, reacting on a delay as he brings his knee up to strategically push your legs open. Allowing you to feel the growing length of him through the thin linens between you, he levels you with his weight in a slow grind. Blinking up at him, your eyes focus in a darkness lit only by the dim glow of dawn beyond the curtains when he languidly rolls his hips against yours, “A-Astarion---!” He is watching you peculiarly, with a glint of some unreadable darkness in his eye that you can’t quite place. The breathless whimper at your lips sends that warmth of yours straight down his spine, “What’s gotten into you?”

He hasn’t had you since that night he had been so drenched with adoration that he’d taken you on his own grave and truly confessed how he loved you. Ever since then it had been battle and struggle, one after another, in your pursuit to stop the Absolute for good--- constantly ensnared in some new concern that stole any potential moment he could’ve used to steal you away from duty. After the final battle, Astarion had been so dejected by the return of his vampiric limitations, and you had been near constantly pulled away to assist the public---

There was the part of him that enjoyed indulging in the easy-going intimacy you offered him. The lack of pressure to perform was something he had not yet fully become accustomed to; a certain comfortability that has been cultivated between the two of you over the time you’ve been together. The sense of knowing that he is well and truly safe with you. Despite this understanding, he wished to freely want you in every way he was capable of.

And, oh, how he has come to want you over these last few days.

It was so mindlessly simple and immensely complex. He can barely put into words to describe the ways he wants this. Carnally, intimately, wholly, eternally--- nothing is a sufficient descriptor. Maybe in that vast library that your wizard, Gale, insists on boasting about showing him one of these days, Astarion will find an all-encompassing word for how he wants to have you forever.

As it stands currently, he settles on the comfortable seduction that has become second nature to him, “Actually, I was quite hoping to have gotten into you by now, lover.”

He’ll never get over how you melt for him; how you fall for every word. He watches the heat he stokes behind your eyes, the flex of your fingertips where they lay beside your head on the pillow.

Then, he descends upon you.

A practiced mouth parts yours as his cool hand takes the long route from your waist to your throat, indulging in the feeling of everything in-between. He sets your skin on edge in his wake, stirring a familiar feeling that he was entirely too good at urging from you to settle low in your stomach.

Gentle fingers find his hair and he feels the scrape of your nails against his scalp when he finally rests his hand on your throat to hook his thumb beneath your jaw, kissing you deeper. Passionately. As he always does, Astarion excels at unravelling you in every way, but you have no idea how much you manage to rebuild him with your every touch.

Your body welcomes him completely, urging him closer in ways he doubts you are consciously aware of. His hips rock into yours with each passing second that your heat spreads through him, feeling himself grow harder at your soft moans that meet his eager mouth. When you tug slightly at his hair, he lets a cautioning sound fall from his tongue onto yours, but you only nip defiant teeth at him in response.

And then he’s pushing your hands down, captured at the wrists by his. Pinning you to the pillows while he draws back just enough to catch the breath that is coming, labored, from the both of you.

“I’m sorr---” you begin, remorselessly.

“Telling a pretty lie won’t save you from me,” Astarion leans close once more, dragging his skin against your cheek as he kisses a trail towards your ear, feeling you test his grip at your wrists with a half-hearted tug. “I do believe all of this ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ business has kept you from the more important happenings of our bedchamber. It would be a terrible pity if you continued to neglect your baser desires when I am in such a mood to indulge you.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about me?” you tease and he feigns a mild shock at the insinuation that his own behavior is the reason you’ve yet to bed him.

“I’ll have you know I am all indulgence, unlike you, darling hero,” but when he leans away, your eyes capture his. Reading him too easily, you know something is wrong as his carefully constructed mask falters, if only for an instant. It’s all you need, and Astarion regrets losing himself for the moment as he watches your softening gaze survey him.

“Is that so…?” You’re left guessing at what troubles him, “If you missed me, you could’ve just said so. The city can survive a few days.”

“Does the city know that?” it would be so easy to leave it there, to let you think you’ve figured him out once again. The anxiety in his veins won’t allow it, however, and his mouth speaks before his mind can instruct him to shut up, “Tell me, darling, that you won’t regret it someday… Of course, you won’t--- but I would like to hear it all the same.”

He looks down on you with growing vulnerability, confidence cracking. That detestable anxiety that has plagued him all evening coming to the forefront of his mind once more. Crimson irises swirl with a reckless uncertainty and it reminds you of how he had looked upon you when confessing his initial manipulations in those early days of your relationship.

“Regret what?” the confusion on your face nearly has him losing his nerve, but he chokes back the urge to dismiss you so quickly.

“I don’t want you to regret… choosing me,” his voice is clearly pained at the thought, cold hands at your wrists tightening like he is afraid you will run from him should he let you go. “Choosing us, I mean. I am well aware of all you shall endure if you spend each painstaking night of forever with me. It is a price I was willing to pay for my freedom, but you… I--- I know you have said that I am what you want, but I don’t want this to be one of your regrets. I don’t want you to resent me for keeping you here---”

Astarion was constantly preparing himself for the ending of all things; it is a part of his nature that you wish you could soothe with simple words alone. It will be much more difficult to satisfy than that and you know it, but you intend to spend all your years working towards earning his unwavering faith in you. This trust that he has so endearingly placed upon your soul, when every piece of his own screamed at you for doing the same. You doubt he knows how, if you were to someday break him in the way he so fears, you feel it would be as if you were destroying a part of yourself.

You cut off his rambling with a firm, “Astarion!” like it hurts you to hear him talk of himself in this way. His mouth snaps shut as you search him for the cause of this doubt, “Have I done something to make you think I will have these regrets you worry of?”

“Well, no, but---”

When you pull at his grip this time, he wordlessly releases you, only for you to reach up to him to drag him down into a tight embrace, “Then, why is your heart so troubled?”

“I---” he chokes on the word and how shallowly his lungs fill with you holding him so securely in your arms. Maybe it is better that you hold him so closely that you cannot see how he crumbles against you, dissolving into your grasp as if you are the only thing holding him together when he confesses, “I know what it is to live this life of darkness. You are so---! You deserve everything I can’t give you, starting with a life surrounded by the beauties of daylight.” His head turns, misty eyes catching your worried stare. He regrets the distress he’s caused you, but moreso he needs to hear your reassurances that his mind has gotten the better of him in this. He has never hoped so pitifully that he was wrong.

“Astarion,” heart swelling at the loss in his eyes; he looks to be mourning for you. As your thumb smoothes along the lines of his jaw, you come to realize the depth of his lingering sadness, “tell me, what good is the sun? The sun cannot care for me as you do or feel my love in return. A life of pure sunlight is worthless if it means living it without you.” You watch his breath catch in his chest, a stifled sob of his relief that he does not give into so easily.

His voice comes strained and nearly sounds like he’s on the verge of arguing with you, “You so obviously will miss it! You talk of finding a way for me to ‘walk in the sun again,’ but what if it’s impossible? What if we waste our lives searching for something that was never attainable? When you realize it, I wouldn’t have you look differently upon me.”

“Is that it? You think I talk about finding you a cure for my own benefit?” you scoff, before leaning towards him to place a soft kiss against frowning lips. He lingers in the middle ground as you depart just enough to demand he listen, “I only think of you, Astarion. Since the moment I first saw you, you’ve consumed my mind, body and soul. The sun was made for you--- and you’d know it if you ever had the privilege of seeing yourself in it. I only want for you to be happy.”

The arch of his brow tells you he still doesn’t fully believe you, despite his attempt at a half-hearted joke through the tightness in his throat, “I do quite enjoy when you call me beautiful.” It’s more than that, and you both know it, but if he were to ask you right now to name one thing about the light of day that you know you will sorely miss, it would be never seeing him in it again.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh at him with a lopsided smile, “Oh, my silly vampire, I love you much more than the sun. Without you, I would not want any of it. In fact, you can take the moon and stars, too, while you’re at it---”

He cuts you off with the eclipse of his mouth on yours, hands spread along your ribs to dig eager fingertips into your skin as he pulls you in as close as he can manage. The kiss is more languidly meaningful than the last; he intends on burning the feeling of you into his mind to replace the torrid thoughts there. If your words had not been enough to convince him, you hope the way you receive his body with your own can. Every part of you calls to him, blood and sinew, breath and bone, flesh and spirit.

Maybe it’s clear to him now, that you are as intertwined as the earth and sea. Should the tide of your soul ever depart from his shores, he can rest in the knowledge that your reunion is inevitable. As far as you are concerned, you are fated in such a way that not even the gods above or the devils below can alter the course of how your body fits beneath his--- how you shall always welcome him home.

You will have him, for as long as he will have you.

When he finally withdraws, he dares not go far, eyes blinking open slowly in a melancholy acceptance, “How can I be so fortunate?”

Brushing the mess of white curls behind his pointed ear, you hum at the shiver that runs through him when your fingertips graze the skin there, “I don’t know, but it’s about time things start going our way, don’t you think?”

“That it is,” his groaned agreement softens the worry in his eyes and he melts into the stroke of your hand against his temple.

“What you should be worrying about, Astarion, is whether you’ll regret choosing me when I’m all old, wrinkled, and grey,” it’s only half of a tease, and you hope he can’t see through the smile on your lips. The thought has been on your mind for some time after realizing that the two of you were going to somehow survive everything you’ve endured these past months.

“Darling,” he scoffs, nudging his nose with yours, soothing you as much as you do him, “knowing how well trouble finds you, we’ll both be long dead before either of us need worry much about that.” His lips graze yours, when he gives you his earnest answer, “For our sake, I hope to spend every moment we have left with you, watching every sunset and sunrise we are granted until the end takes us both.”

It's more complicated than that, but most real things usually are.

What isn’t complicated is how you feel beneath him, tongue tracing his teeth as he ravishes you. There is a completeness that comes in the way of his body fitting against yours. This reassurance in your touch will never falter. Even if your mind were to eventually escape you, he will know you were always his. If the world were to fall away in this moment and leave nothing but this room, Astarion would happily float out his days with you here forevermore.

He loves you. You love him.

He can scarcely comprehend anything else. Nothing else matters, he decides.

Nothing but your little shivers and whines when his fingers delve down the soft flesh of your stomach--- nothing but the arch of your body into the exploration of his touch. Nothing is worth more than his name whispered from your lips in that scandalous tone you reserve for these moments he sets your skin ablaze with teeth and tongue. You call to him like it were a prayer, but Astarion has hardly done anything so holy to warrant the way you say his name.

His sole inkling of faith is spent on the belief that he could live his whole life, his extended eternity, and never tire of loving you.

Soft and demanding partner within the thrill of his touch, you’ve learned, and his hands part you for him with that comforting understanding. Insistent and hesitant are your finger’s answer to him, digging into the nape of his neck as your head falls back against the pillows. Throat bared, it’s a wonder he doesn’t take another bite of you where he’s done so frequently before, but his attention is too acutely focused on the aching wetness between your thighs and his slender fingers.

Your lips part in an open moan of his name with how expertly he drags pleasure through your veins with each stroke within you, and he drags his teeth against your jaw in a growl, “You sweet, generous thing, always so ready for me.” Finally, he grants you some relief from his constant teasing, pressing the heel of his palm into your most sensitive nub. He allows you to seek your own pleasure with each desperate grind of yourself against the hand that continues to stroke pleasure from within, “Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me? How dearly I long for us to never leave this bed?” The rasp of his voice has heat rushing up your spine, muddying your thoughts with each continuance of his lascivious tongue, “Leave the Gate to fend for itself, my dear, for I should have you like this always, stripped bare with me between your thighs.”

“Have me then, Astarion,” you really did purr for him in times like these and as much as he enjoys teasing you for it, he truly does relish the tone you get when he has drenched you in lust. His reaction at your words is groaned against your throat; he’s so near, but his hand retreats from you all the same. Never to neglect you for long, your lover is soon tearing at your smallclothes with an impatience that was not wholly unexpected from him.

He pushes his weight onto his forearm beside your head, using his other hand to tug at the laces of his loose breeches while glancing down between you. His eyes, rubies in the darkness, snap to yours and it is as if he has dipped you in firewine and struck a match. You burn for him, from the inside out and in such a way that you know he has thoroughly ruined you for anyone else. You are dripping with it, onto the sheets and the new press of his length against your core. His indulgent rub of himself through your folds is punctuated by him grinding into you, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling for but a moment.

Hair disheveled, you watch the beauty of him as he swallows deeply before capturing you in that piercing gaze once again, “I think I shall have you, now--- how did you just put it?” He crowds you with his arms, and your breath hitches at the feeling of him catching at your entrance when he murmurs lowly, deliberately, “Body and soul? Isn’t that right, my love?”

The way you drag him down into your kiss as he pushes into you is a messy, desperate thing, but it only seems to urge him on. You simply cannot seem to get close enough, though not for lack of trying, as he fills you gloriously. Astarion gasps into your mouth, staggering the push of his hips against yours, devouring you until he is left seated so deeply within you that you can hardly breathe. Then, hands around your thighs push your legs up, and he fits impossibly further.

You sob a moan against sharp fangs, deliriously full of him as he begins a slow fucking that is just enough to drive you into madness. Clambering for something to ground yourself, your nails dig into his back, scraping against the scars that remain there--- his hips snapping faster into you at the feeling of it.

He smears saliva across your jaw and down your throat, understanding your breathless, “Please, please,” for what it is. Permission.

Pain is so fleetingly brief that it may as well not exist at all, because when he bites down hard enough to draw blood from your skin, you are met so suddenly with a lightheaded ecstasy that is compounded by the pleasure he pulses through your body. Only the raw stretch of his every thrust keeps you from dissipating into delirium entirely. You are left keening beneath him as he dissolves into the taste of your blood, feeling his moans against your neck and the way his thrusts begin to match the drum of your heart in your ears. Astarion’s fingers drag in the space between, stopping only when he has found the base of his seat within you.

You feel your heart skip in your chest before he ceases the meal he’s made of you, licking your throat of the sloppy blood that threatens to yet spill. The iron of it meets the smell of sex in the air and he strokes his fingers against where he continuously plunges so deep within you; the wet sounds of your coupling may have been embarrassing if you weren’t so disoriented with the raw need of it. Your every nerve has fiercer concerns than your fickle dignity when he is working to make such a wonderful mess of you as this.

“Delicious,” Astarion groans into your shoulder, nipping and groaning against whatever he may get his mouth on as he feels your increasingly erratic clenching with his harshening pace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling him reach to draw tight circles at your clit as his own pace begins to falter. Neither of you will make it much further through this. He is left stained, begging upon your skin, “Come with me--- Hells, darling--- I need you to---"

Finding a grip in his hair allows you to drag his head sharply back to force his open-mouthed gaze to cast upon you once more, desperate to see him as he falls apart with you.

The sight of him is nearly enough for you to lose what little sense you’ve held to; while his complexion has turned slightly rosy with the assistance of your fresh blood, he still looks upon you with a consuming hunger all the same, “I love you.”

“Gods---!” dark eyes slam shut as he gasps out your name before all control leaves him in the mindless oblivion that he drags you down into alongside him. Scorching pleasure burns from the inside out as he loses himself in the trembling heat of your rapture, dissolving into a wild and erratic pace that bursts sparks of euphoria behind your eyes.

You are both left in the sticky aftermath of it, heaving mingling breaths as tension melts into you from where he collapses and lingers atop you. You hold him, content to have his softening length seated within you for all eternity as you let him continue his mindless caressing of your skin.

He has said it before, but it will never be enough, so he says it again in the hoarse aftermath of your lovemaking, “I love you, darling. You have made me so… happy.” Should you ever forget it, he is prepared to remind you for the rest of your days, “Thank you.”

Your own repeated declaration is sighed with a contentment that you hope will last a moment longer as your fingers take to stroking through his hair when he lays his head against your chest. Can he hear it from there, you wonder, how your heart whispers only the sweetest of sentiments for him? You like to think he can.

“Astarion?” you finally croak after some time, and he hums soft acknowledgement without much movement. “We should watch the next one together.”

“The next what, my treasure?”

“The next sunrise.”

There is a smile in his voice when he murmurs, “Always.”

[velvet-paradox]

Traveler (Part Two)

Fandom: Calm With Horses/ The Shadow of Violence

Pairing: Dympna Devers x Female reader

Summary: your career as a photographer leads you to Ireland and an unsuspecting meeting with a well known family in town.

Length: Long

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY, tobacco use, strong language, explicit content, phone sex, mutual masterbation, slight oral (f receiving), P in V (unprotected; wrap it up dummy), cream pie, heavily detailed smut.

Tagging: @synnersaint @druigbarnes01 @littleplutoisaplanet @brookisbi @yoursopretty15 @marauderswhoree @azurewitch @autumnrose929 @badbitsh13 @123crossiant123 @mrsmooneyshouse @milklungsblog @sniwstrom @pjnkhoe @dreadwolfxoxo @mrsilovevillains @Unbetitelt @amberrubens @naamloos @xkaoruu @purebillskarsgardtrash @dainty cupcake @barryswifey @mrsniallhoran505 @heylolitahey13 @emilie1993 @enchantingeggslimepeanut @oh-yeah-i-exist @greekktragedyy @celtic-orgin @alivnysstuff @itsthestutterforme @shityoudidntaskfor @tompetersebbuckyhazleo @chainsawvigilante @mothdruid @sarahreader134 @omgeternal  

ENJOY!!!

You didn't hear from the Irishman for a few days, and honestly you were on a hunt of your own. You'd overheard some kids mention the same name of one of the rock sites you were interested in, one that was already scrawled down on your handy notepad. You asked them about it as they pointed up the hill from where you had gotten breakfast, not the same diner where you heard the gossip, a but specific breakfast joint that faced the water.

You plopped in the coordinates into your phone and set off. 

It was breathtaking, the whole island was but this place was magical as if you might actually see fairies or elves, maybe an albino mythical animal. Maybe this was a place where unicorns did exist. You got out your camera and snapped quite a few ethereal pictures, these would fetch you good price back home for sure. 

The misty mountains behind you made this place feel like a dream and in a sense it was. You sat on the trunk of your rental, just basking in the beautiful sight around you, a lone sheep trotted across the road and down a little hill just out of view, it's fluffy beige body dipping out of sight as your phone rang.

You smiled and answered. "Hi."

"How do, Yankee girl? gettin' into trouble are ya'?" Dympna joked through the phone.

"I'm doing just fine, what are you up to?"

"Jus' wonderin' the same, what are you doin' in a few hours? say around two..."

You checked your watch, it was just a little past noon. "I'll be back down the hill by then, why?"

"Why don't you let me pick you up, I'll show ya' the beach, yeah? the sun'll be nice an' high by then."

"Sure."

"Yeah?" he sounded excited and you felt the same, you weren't expecting this trip to turn out this way, but were thrilled nonetheless. "You'll go out wit' me?"

"Sure Dympna, I'm on my way back now, should be at the hotel in a few."

"Excellent! alrigh' I'll see you then!"

Dympna was right, the clouds had parted and the sun snuck out just as you heard a few loud honks below your window, you looked out and saw his little red car parked out front, then his blonde head from the drivers side window. He hung both arms out of it, drumming on the door.

He waved at you as you came out of the doors, the doorman holding it open for you as you thanked him. Dympna hurried out of the car, ran around to your side and opened the door for you.

He smiled so wide his dimples looked the size of potholes in the sun. "Told ya' I was a gentlemen!" He shut the door, slapping the hood before hopping in next to you and took off, no doubt going over the speed limit as you drove around a bend towards the beach.

The sand was hot beneath your feet, shoes and socks left behind on a blanket he'd brought out from the trunk. You both rolled up the bottoms of your jeans to your calves, though it didn't matter as you made it down to the crushing waves, he took your hand as you ran down to the water. It was freezing! you shrieked while he doubled over and laughed, you kicked some of the water at him when a wave rushed up. He chased after you when you took off, he called out after you as you ran, steering past a few kids building a sandcastle and mote.

"You like it?" Dympna asked when you made it back to your blanket, lounging on your sides, facing each other though he was the one to be facing the high sun, squinting and yielding up his hand along his smooth brow.

"I love it, it's beautiful."

"Sure is," out of the corner of your eye, as usual you could see him watching you. His scent of tobacco and cologne now tinged with the salt from your frolicking. Your arm shook so you propped yourself up on both elbows instead of one. You turned to face him but he was quick to turn away.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do want, Yankee?" He looked out at the water with a coy grin.

"I know you're looking at me but when iI look you're always quick to turn away."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed and dropped onto his back, he'd rolled up the sleeve of his sweater, tucking his jacket beneath his head in a makeshift pillow. "Can't have you catchin' me lookin'."

"But why don't you just let me look at you back?"

Dympna made a face in the sun, still squinting. "It's too real, you're too real. Besides I'm tryin' my hardest not to kiss ya' every two minutes, so."

Oh.

You smiled and wiggled your toes, you felt your cunt clench at the way his voice dropped. You licked your lips at his unsuspected answer, though you had realized when he did talk to you his eyes always went to your mouth first then your eyes. "You want to kiss me?"

"O' course I do! been thinkin' about since I saw you at the diner, jeez."

You shifted when he closed his eyes, when he opened them you were blocking out the sun for him as you hovered above him, he dug his head back into his jacket. He squinted at you anyway. You stilled your shaky hand on his chest before speaking again.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course ya' can."

"Are... are you really as dangerous as I've heard?" Blood pounded in your ears as if you were at the front of bass speaker at a music festival. You watched him work his jaw for moment and thought you might have misspoke, you bit your lip in anticipation. 

Fuck.

Dympna sighed but grabbed your shoulder before you could move back from shading him. "You've no doubt heard about my family since ya' been here I suppose. I'm not dangerous Y/N, if I 'ave to get mean I can but for the most part that's Arm's job. He gets it done. Don' get me wrong now we're a powerful family here, we can shift our weight when we need to but if they stay in line so do we. We're not in the killin' business if that's what yer thinkin', more like... we'll knock ya' around a bit but we won't kill ya'," his hand moved up the side of your neck holding you there and keeping full on eye contact. He licked his lips and you saw his Adam's apple shift. "I'm loyal to those I need to be loyal to, I'm trusting just the same way, understand?"

You nodded.

"Does that scare you?"

You tilted your head a bit and shrugged. "A little."

Dympna smiled sweetly. "You don't need to be scared o’ me girly, you've been good to us an' we'll continue to be good to you."

You surprised not only yourself but the man beneath you when you bent down and kissed him. He didn't move at first, you could feel him jerk under your hand but then his lips started to move against your own, savoring your taste. He hummed against your mouth, you could feel the corners of his lips turned up in a smile as he deepened it, his free hand covering your own on his pectoral.

He nipped your bottom lip, swiping over it with his tongue as he slid it over your own.

"Aye get a room you two! there's wee ones about!" Someone shouted near by, grumbling.

Unfortunately Dympna's phone rang from his pocket next to your hip.

"Ah fuck off." He mumbled against your kiss, waving his hand on your neck way at the air around you.

"You should get that," you breathed but continued. "Might be important."

He shook his head, "Nothin' as important as right now."

His phone rang a second time and he pulled away with a grouchy face and plumper lips. "Fucks sake! what?," he pinched the bridge of his nose with a defeated groan talking about a job. He hung up and gave you a pouty look. "Sorry Yank, got a job to do gonna' have to cut this short."

"You do what you have to." You pushed off him to get your things but he stopped you short, pecking the tip of your nose before he tapped it with his finger, then pointed to your mouth.

"I'm quite fond of your kissing."

You felt hot when you stood, putting on your shoes. "I'm fond of yours too." You smiled, licking his drying spit from your mouth.

"I'll drop you off at the hotel, don' worry. I'll call you later."

....

As you settled into bed you're mind wandered back to Dympna. Meeting and hanging around the locals was apart of your job, of course they know their providence more than anyone else, where and where not to go, what hill was the best for wildlife, what creek was the prettiest at a certain time of day or where could you get the best tasting fish. But you weren't planning on kissing any of them except for Dympna. 

You felt unnaturally comfortable and ease with the man even though you shouldn't. You bit your lip as you thought about it, how often you'd heard the Devers name and how the people in twin talked about them. They had some skin in the game, Arm was a good guy you could tell, even if he was the muscle of the operation. 

The fresh cuts to his knuckles told anyone who dared to ask. 

Dympna told you you were safe, weren't a target as long as he was around. An honorary member while you were in Ireland but-- was it wise? You'd had a few run ins in other countries and States so this wasn't new but you had to keep your eyes and ears open. 

You turned out the lights. 

Not ten minutes later your phone rang, blurring your vision as you grabbed it from the nightstand.

"How do, Yankee girl?" Dympna sang into the phone and you smiled.

"Hey yourself. How was the job?"

"Oh that? Not too bad. Guy knew we were coming, had our money already set out and everything! Smart man. Listen I was thinking about today, at the beach..." you thought for a moment he'd bring up the kiss but he surprised you with a question instead. "You ever been to the beach at night?"

"Can't say that I have, why?"

"Excellent! There's a full moon Friday night, thought maybe you'd like a night date, bring your camera and get some good shots, yeah? They are called shots right?"

You laughed and imagined his cute face all scrunched up in question. "Yeah. That sounds like fun."

You heard Dympna hum through the phone followed by some light rustling. 

"You're having a lot fun on this trip huh?"

"I am. You're a bonus."

"Oh! I like the sound of that, so." You could hear more shifting on his end, no doubt himself getting tucked into bed too. It was well after midnight. "I had fun today."

"You told me that already, when you dropped me off."

"I know I know," you could hear the lilt and smile in his voice. "Can't 'urt in telling you again. You know... we could have some fun right now if you want."

Oh.

You switched ears, your heart plummeted down to your feet. "And what kind of fun are you talking about?"

"The phone sex kind." Dympna laughed.

You wiggled your toes against the soft sheets, honestly you weren't opposed to the idea. After he'd dropped you at the hotel you couldn't stop thinking about kissing him, how he smiled against your lips.

"What do you think?"

"I think you're trouble."

Dympna laughed. "How's about you put me on speaker then, put me next to your head."

You did as he asked, his voice filled up the space. "What do you want me to do now?"

Dympna was good, damn good. Maybe too good. His voice dropped a little lower, a playful tone in the way he talked to you, asking you to grope your chest and close your eyes. When Dympna sighed you moved your hand between your legs when his exclamation that he was touching himself on the other end. You moved the phone closer and could just barely hear his stroking. 

You hummed.

"You sound delighted sweetheart."

"I am," you purred, opening your legs. "I can hear you."

"Good. I wan' you to hear me, I'd like to really hear you though."

A thought twisted its way up your spine and turned on the lightbulb, you bit your lip and moved the phone between your legs, settled just near your cunt. 

Tearing off your panties you circled your clit before moving your fingers between your lips, fingering yourself for the man on the phone. You moaned. "Can you hear that?" you added a second finger, pulling them out with the sound of your arousal.

"Oh fuck, yeah sweetheart I can hear that," Dympna groaned again when you moved them in quick succession, building your orgasm that would surely rip through you in a sudden flurry if he kept this up. "All that for me, then? wish I could see it."

"You will." You gasped, using your other hand to grope your chest again, pumping your fingers in and out. Dympna grunted into the phone, the vibration of his voice and growing pants for release had you bucking your pussy into your hand. "Ha I'm close!"

"Shit yeah me too, keep those legs open and get yourself off. Bet you got the cutest little face right now." Dympna whined and you pinched your face, your mouth falling open as you felt yourself twitch and tighten around your fingers.

"I'm coming oh my-" your words garbled into a whimpering mess, soaking your fingers imagining it was the man on the phone, curling his fingers inside you.

"That's it that's it, sound so damn good sweetheart. Fuck yes!" Dympna groaned a few times, you had just pulled out your wet fingers at the sound of him coming. You breathed and moved the phone closer, back up to your ear.

"Now that was fun." You giggled.

"Didn't I tell ya' sweetheart?" Dympna said with a smile on his voice, you head him cleaning up a bit before he talked more about your night date before you two said goodnight.

....

He picked you up that Friday night, well into pitch dark territory as you walked down the beach. He was right, a night time beach date was absolutely stunning. You got some great shots of the waves on the surf, crashing against the sand in the moonlit sky. The stars were incredible. You were definitely going to get at least one award for these pictures; you were certain of it.

It had started to drizzle. You didn’t mind but the way Dympna had voiced his annoyance, hiding and smoking beneath his coat had you putting your things away; suggesting you two head back to your hotel. Dympna liked that idea, he ran around to your door first, opening it as a flash of lightning you wished you would’ve caught on camera lit up the sky over the water. He hopped, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze before starting up the old red beater.

Dympna sat on your bed, boots left unlaced against the door, his leather jacket tossed away by your open and messy suitcase scrolling leisurely through your laptop. You came out of the bathroom and he smiled up at you, his hand holding his jaw. 

"You said I could get a print if I wan' it right? Can I have a few more than one?" You nodded. 

"Which ones do you like best?" 

He clicked a few and you memorized each one but stopped when he took your hand. "I'd also fancy a request." 

"A request huh?" 

"I'd like one wit' you before you head out. For memory sake... and in case I do make it to America one day, I can show 'em the most beautiful girl I know and where to find 'er "

You felt your body warm through, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. He was a charmer this Dympna and you were under his spell for sure.

"Suave. Of course we can take a few."

"Good."

His smile stretched all the way and possibly past his hairline, he kissed your temple when he got up to use your bathroom.

He came out with a grin. "That's a nice fuckin' bath you got in there!"

"I know I'm gonna miss that thing when I go home, I took one earlier.”

Dympna hummed and nodded, looking into the larger bathroom then back to you as you moved your laptop to the dresser. "You wanna take another one?"

Your head snapped just as he wiggled how eyebrows and bit his bottom lip. "Now?"

"Yeah. Why not? Take a bath with me."

"Pretty bold of you to ask but," you moved over to him, your hands on his ribs while all he could was look at you with a heated gaze. "Sounds like fun."

And it was. It really was. You watched him pull at the back of his shirt, fumbling with his belt and jeans. He stood there in his dark boxers briefs, joking that you were clearly over dressed. You out your arms up for him to undress you. He took his time looking over your skin, calling you beautiful with every new inch of exposed skin. 

You may have glanced down when Dympna slid out of his boxer and Dympna maybe looked a little too long at your breasts before you got in the tub. You shut off the water. Dympna got in first, flicking little hot droplets on your skin before you joined him, your back against his chest. 

You couldn't be certain if he was hot already or if it was from the bath, either way it was giving you goosebumps and made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand.

His arm came up to rest on the side of the tub, his fingers dipping into the water.

"This is nice." You said and leaned back against him, he moved his head for yours to rest against his shoulder.

"Know what would be even nicer?"

You hummed and closed your eyes. "What?"

Dympna moved his other hand beneath the water and cupped your mound. You gasped but didn't move.

"Is that a yes sweetheart?" You shivered at his voice in your ear.

"Yes."

Once you felt his fingers start to move you felt like you were on fire, his toned muscles flexing languidly building you up for what the Irishman had planned.

Apparently it was to break you apart, little by little he stroked between your folds, separating your lips, getting a good feel of your count. You splashed in the water and Dympna chuckled.

"Easy girl, easy. I've got you."

The way he moved his fingers, stomach muscles tightening against your back had you whimpering in his hand, the other came up and held your neck. He told you to open your eyes and when you did he was smiling sweetly, his lip between his teeth as he teased your opening with one finger then another. You moaned, your brows furrowing with delight. His fingers felt better then your own, fragments of your phone sex call bloomed in your brain. He pulled them out only to watch your face contort when he pushed them back in.

The barely there scar and tattoo on his face had never looked more soft.

"That's it. God you feel incredible, so fuckin' pretty in my lap like this. Does it feel good sweetheart?" Dympna asked, still holding your face under twitching digits.

"Yes! Oh my god yes..."

The only sounds were splashing water and his working breath on your face. You stretched when little gap there was left between you and kissed him sloppily, swallowing the moan that now filled your mouth when he started to fuck his tongue against your own.

You pulled away with a groan of your own, looking down between your legs at his thrusting hand. "Dympna please..."

"Oh that's nice. Cry for me again sweetheart."

He pulled them out again, circling and rubbing your clit faster and faster until you cried, grabbing the sides of the tub for purchase as he finally succeeded in breaking you. You came with a high wail of his name.

He brought his hand to a slower pace, using the pads of four fingers to linger on your clit, pressing down just a little more as you panted against him. You blinked rapidly as if from some delicious dream but you were there, right there in his arms and in this tub.

"Amazing." Dympna kissed you again, softer this time and without care, just talking your mouth pressed to his. Plumb and swollen from your own assault. He licked the corner of your mouth.

"Bedroom. Now." You sighed, your already worked cunt squeezing around nothing at the way his blue eyes darkened just a tad, a knowing smirk rising up his flushed cheeks.

"Ah you wan' more of Dympna then, huh?" He asked damn well knowing the answer. He laughed when you climbed out of the bath tub, legs a little wobbly as you grabbed a towel and tossed one his way.

....

Dympna enjoyed the way you clung to him, clearly trying to get as close to him as possible, trying to mold yourself into him. You didn't know where you ended and he began, he had you splayed out on your back, still a little damp but neither one of your could be bothered to care. 

He was fucking intense with that eye contact, picking up on what you liked as he gripped your hip glued to his waist. Dympna squeezed your thigh as he fucked down into you, his healthy cock had spilt you damn near in two especially if he hadn't eaten you before hand. Which he did, moving his mouth over your slit, teasing your hole with the sharp tip of his tongue. His dyed hair may have been short but what you could hold onto, you pulled him as close as possible to your pussy.

Dympna made you cum that way first before stroking himself against your mound and stomach, he had circled the blunt head of his hard cock around your clit a few times before holding himself steady and rocked into you. 

Dympna's cock punched the air from your lungs, holding onto his forearms while he studied you beneath him, a low groan of his own filling the room.

He was on the verge of drooling, you could see it glisten over his bottom lip. You leaned up and kissed him, whining into his mouth while you dug your fingernails into his triceps, dragging them down made Dympna snap his eyes shut.

"Holy fuck sweetheart. Ya' feel so fuckin' good, could fuckin' stay like this forever. God dammit, so fuckin' tight for me. You're on cloud fuckin' nine ain't ya' sweetheart? can feel your cute pussy gripping me damn good too." Dympna pressed himself off to one side, holding onto the arch of your foot against the outside of his thigh, you whined and pressed your head back into the pillows.

"Yes," you kissed his forearm, giving the inside meat a gentle bite. Dympna grunted and circled his hips, when he did that though he hit something deep inside your cunt that had you on the verge of tears. You sobbed again. "Fuck me. Harder Dympna, harder."

He bit at the inside of his cheek and gave you a nod, he gave one of your breasts a half solid slap, enjoying the way you arched up into him as he pinched the other nipple getting you to make a noise you hadn't made before. He picked his pace, sitting back onto his haunches with his hands under your back so your shoulders pushed into the mattress.

He was building himself up, gather up both of your legs underneath the backs of your legs, hefting them over one shoulder.

"Good fuckin' pussy sweetheart," Dympna grunted, giving your knees a quick and messy kiss as he continued to pound into you. His nails might have short and blunt but you could feel the way they dug into your skin, pinching the flesh there. "Ya' so fuckin' wet for me, yeah? beautiful... just b-beautiful. Can' wait for you to cum on me, fuckin' soak my cock sweetheart. Gonna' make me mess outta' you."

You moaned at the thought, gripping the sheets beneath you. You felt it, the steady pulse of blood in your ears, your heart hammering along with that satisfying ache that had been laid out by Dympna brick by brick. 

"Yeah, God yeah. I'm close, I'm gonna' cum." You panted.

Dympna lifted your hips just a few inches more that had you fucking spiraling, your eyes blurred shut as you felt his fingers swipe against your clit, using the same momentum he had in the tub to get your off.

You yelped and made another garbled noise that was meant to be his name but came out odd. Your chest heaved, your own hands going to hold just under your ribs, under your bouncing breasts.

Dympna growled at the sight, you clenched around him. Your mouth fell open with a silent sound as you gripped him, your walls holding his cock nice and snug.

"Tha's it sweetheart, fuck sake!" Dympna hung his head, centimeters from clocking his forehead to yours, he dripped sweat. "So fuckin' good. Ya' gonna milk me then? make me cum too..."

"Cum inside me," you held onto him, the thick slap of his hips against the backs of yours cacophonied around the room. "Please, wanna' feel you wanna'--"

That set him off; Dympna held your legs tighter as he looked down at you one more time, three more delicious thrusts had him grinding his jaw. He came with a pained voice, a grunt that had turned into an obscene moan when he filled you up. Fucked you empty only to made full of him.

Dympna collapsed on top of you, out of breath and fucking spent. You held him to your collar by the back of his head, your nails in the blonde mop of hair at the top of his  head. You stroked his back, an attempt to soothe him down. His back muscles twitched like his cock still hugging your walls.

"What I tell ya' sweetheart," Dympna mumbled against your skin, giving the column of your throat a few sloppy and tired kisses. "Stick wit' me and y-you'll be bound to have some f-fun."

[mayraki]

“the magic trick” - spencer reid

-> toyboxboy’s gif!

summary: spencer decides to surprise you with a question while doing a magic trick.

masterlist

disclaimer: i know nothing about magic so I’m sorry if this can’t be done.

“What?” You asked surprised the moment Spencer lifted the car with the number that you choose a couple of seconds ago for the magic trick he was doing for you. “How did you do that?”

He let out a tiny smile at your surprised and confused face but then shook his head. “A magician never reveals what he hides under his sleeves.”

“Oh, you suck.” You complained. You looked down at the cards he was holding and then back at him, who immediately figured out what you were thinking.

“Take a look. There’s not two cards of any number, you can trust me.” He said with an innocent smile.

“No, huh huh.” You quickly shook your head. “After seeing you do that, I’m never trusting you again!” You got up from the chair with the intention to do the dishes after you and Spencer had dinner in your tiny apartment, but he spoke again.

“C’mon, let me do one more trick. And if I can’t do it right, I’ll do the dishes.”

“That’s not fair! You always get it right.” Even if you said that, you walked back to the chair and sat down in front of Spencer who was already playing with the cards in his hands.

“Now, I want you to concentrate real hard on this one.” He said with his eyes locked with yours. “And I want you to think of a question.”

“A question?” You asked confused and he nodded.

“Yes, a simple question. About anything.” He said looking down at the cards.

“Alright, I’m going to be watching you up close. Get ready to do the dishes, pretty boy.” You said getting closer to the cards on his hands while Spencer just let out a smile.

“You got it?” You nodded still with your eyes glued to the cards playing in Spencer’s hands. “Alright, I’m going to shuffle the cards fast, and you say stop whenever you want.” You nodded again.

Spencer started moving the cards faster than you ever watched him do, but as soon as he started, without giving him time to do anything else, you said: “Stop.”

He stopped and for a second, you lifted your eyes to see him and that smile he had on his face. Before going back to the cards, you noticed Spencer started to breath faster and was trying to push his nerves away, dating a profiler made you recognised some body language. What was all those nerves about?

“Alright.” Spencer grabbed the card that landed on once you said ‘stop’ and lifted it next to his face. Without losing any movement of his, you followed with your eyes the card, getting your face even more closer to his. “I want you to think of that question, have it in your head with nothing else.” He said and you nodded. “Do you have it?” You nodded again with your eyes glued to the card. “Remember. This is random, you picked the card and the question-”

“And if you get it wrong, you’ll do the dishes. Right?”

Spencer let out a tiny smile. “Right.” He moved his fingers with the intention to move the card but he didn’t do it immediately, and because of that, you moved your eyes to see him and he was looking at you with a smile on his face, like he was admiring your beauty and every single detail of your face.

“What?” You asked confused.

“Is this your question?” He softly asked and you quickly turned to the card.

The question “Will you marry me?” was written in the card with a black marker. You slowly opened your mouth surprised without knowing what to say. You froze in the chair still processing if what you read was correct, so you read the question again. But still, it wasn’t getting in your brain, so you opened your mouth with the intention to read it out loud, but Spencer left the card on the tablet to get up and get on one knee.

You followed him with your eyes as his hand slowly went to the pocket of his pants and pulled out a little blue box. With your mouth still opened at the surprise, you got and stood there in front of him.

“Y/n Y/l/n, we’ve been dating for almost four years now, and these past years have been the best of my life, with you, by my side. Every adventure, every conversation, every bad, happy, exciting moment that happens in the future I know that I want to do it with you. So, Y/n, would you make me the happiest man alive” with one quick move Spencer opened the blue box to let the beautiful diamond ring inside for you to see “by marrying me?” He said and you let out the biggest smile ever while slowly nodding.

“Yes, Spence, oh my god, yes!” You said and with the happiest smile, Spencer took the ring off the blue box and put it on your finger, to then quickly stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your face closer to unite his lips against yours.

“I can’t believe I’m marrying you.” He said with a smile.

“When did- when did you decided? Since when? How did you plan it?” You were asking so quickly that Spencer let out a laugh at your still surprised self.

“A month ago.”

“A month ago?!”

“Yeah. I wanted it to be perfect and unexpected, so I planned it a lot.”

“Well... well done. Because I didn’t expect it, at all.” Spence let out a proud smile before you gave him another kiss.

“I have to do the dishes now, right?” He asked looking at the kitchen and then back at you.

“We can do it together, from now on.” You said with a smile and Spencer nodded.

“Can’t wait to do that for the rest of my life, with you.”

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn It Down [Ivar x Reader]

A.N.: Hello my loves and my dreamers! Here’s an Ivar story, -call this The Last Kingdom influence on me loll-  I hope you enjoy it! Love you! <3

Summary: The future holds many possibilities.

Characters: Ivar x Reader, Ubbe, Torvi, Hvitserk.

Warnings: Explicit language and depictions of violence.

Word Count: 1228

You were five years old when you pointed at an older woman in the street and informed your mother that she would die soon, and her funeral would have a lot of flowers.

Your mother had, of course, shushed you, telling you to keep your mouth shut and dragged you to the small hut, sat you down, and looked you dead in the eye, her voice stern as if you had done something wrong.

“People will not understand,” she had told you, “They will fear you. And fear usually turns into hate, my love. You need to learn how to hide.”

The thing was, as your father would tell you later on, you were way too feral to hide.

In all honesty, you had seen this Viking invasion years ago. You knew it was coming, you knew the streets you had walked in would be flooded with blood, you knew the screams that would echo through the whole city, and you knew you would walk through the ashes unharmed.

Nobody believed you. Not the king, not his advisors, not even your own sister.

“We are too powerful,” they had told you, “These walls cannot be penetrated.”

“We will kill the heathens if they dare.”

“God will protect us.”

You turned your head when you heard the footsteps and voices of the army, speaking in a language you didn’t know, but then you decided to focus on the warm animal heart in your hand, closing your eyes and saying a prayer before you stabbed the heart with your dagger, and let the blood spill down on the shape you had drawn on the floor of the hut. You smiled to yourself, then looked over your shoulder as soon as someone broke the door down, making you turn around to see him better.

Seeing him in your visions and dreams was one thing, but seeing him actually breathing at your door, covered in blood while leaning on his crutch was another. His warriors stood behind him, two men and a woman, all carrying swords with a wild look in their eyes. The longer haired one exchanged looks with the woman, then turned to him,

“Ivar, she’s a witch,” he said, “Be careful.”

“Let’s leave,” the woman said, “We already have the city.”

“You’re a witch?” Ivar said, his voice was exactly how it was in your visions. You arched a brow, then your lips pulled into a smile as soon as he stepped inside the hut.

“I am,” you said, “And you, Ivar the Boneless, are under my will from this moment on.”

The lighter haired man beside him looked between you and him, “What?”

“Hvitserk-“ the woman said through her teeth, “Don’t.”

“Under your will?” Ivar scoffed a laugh, “I’m under nobody’s will, witch.”

“Your life is mine, Boneless.” You stated, “It has been mine since you stepped inside. I have your heart now,” you raised your hand to show him the bloody heart in your hand, and dug your long fingernails into it, making Ivar’s breath get caught in his throat before he coughed and you threw the heart at his feet.

“Tell your people to leave us,”

Hvitserk and the other man shook their heads,

“Ivar, let’s leave.”

“Ubbe,” Ivar said, “Leave us.”

“I’m not leaving you with a witch!”

“I will not harm him,” you told him, “If that is what burdens your heart.”

“Leave us.” Ivar repeated and you leaned back to the table, smiling slightly at his people, then waved dismissively. Ubbe gritted his teeth but the woman pulled him outside, and Hvitserk followed them.

A silence fell upon you, and his eyes went to the heart on the ground before he looked up at you.

“You cursed me.”

“I did.” You said, “You may take a seat. Battles are tiring, I presume.”

He didn’t budge, “Lift the curse.”

“Not until I’m sure of my safety.” You said, “Not until you trust me.”

“I don’t trust your kind.”

“Nor do I yours.”

“Vikings?”

“Men.” You shrugged, “Your feelings can be fickle, so are your reactions. But I know things about you, Boneless. I’ve seen your past and your future. I know where your fate lies, and it happens to be entwined with mine.”

His eyes narrowed, “What of my fate?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” you stated, “I can only tell you the parts of it.”

“What parts of it?”

“I can say that it will not be your last, nor your biggest victory,” you said, “Your path is different than your father’s, or your ancestors.”

“You know of my father?”

“I’ve seen him in the snake pit,” you said, “I’ve seen your gods. They were not happy with King Aelle, they helped you to get your revenge.”

“Anyone could’ve known that.”

“I know that loneliness haunts your heart,” you said, twirling the dagger in your hand, “I know that you think you’ve been cursed long before here and now. I know what happened in your tent two nights ago.”

He gawked at you for a moment before he grabbed his axe, fuming through his nose,

“What if I killed you now?” he asked you, “Right now?”

“You would stay cursed until eternity and beyond.” You stated, “Not to mention you are way too clever for it.”

“Too clever to kill you.”

“Too clever to kill me,” you nodded, “Why would you? When I could tell you of your future victories? Of the future lands you will conquer? Of the people who will only whisper your name with the fear of you?”

That seemed to push him into his thoughts for only a moment before he lowered his axe, apparently not happy with it.

“Then I will take you with me,” he said sulkily, like a child who didn’t get what he wanted and you tilted your head to the right.

“I know,” you said, “And contrary to what your mind is trying to convince you right now, it is not your decision, nor is it mine.”

His eyes searched yours and he licked his lips,

“You will tell me of my future victories, when it’s time to attack other lands,” he demanded and you raised your brows, trying your hardest not to scoff at his audacity to think he could order you.

“I will,” you said, walking to him, “But I will not be responsible of your fate.”

He nodded slowly, and you walked past him to the door, but stopped dead on your tracks as soon as you heard his voice,

“What else then?”

“What?”

“What are you allowed to tell me?”

You let out a laugh, “Surely the leader of the Great Heathen Army does not expect to have the answers to his whole life by a witch.”

“You said you could.”

“I never said I would.” You said and smiled softly, “My fate is entwined with yours, Boneless. Does not mean I would betray the forces I have aligned myself with.”

He gritted his teeth, “I wish to know more.” He demanded and you shot him a mischievous look,

“You will, in time.” You said, then nodded at the heart lying on the ground, “But know this, king Ivar. No other woman will have and hold your heart but me.”

With that, you stepped over the threshold and walked past his people to go deeper into the woods.

                                                 *

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[avengerscompound]

Taglist announcement for Until the End of the World

Just some blog stuff relevant to people who either want to be on my taglist for until the end of the world or were tagged in Running to a standstill.  If you are tagged in this post, can you read it

Tonight at 8pm Eastern Standard Time I am posting the second chapter of Until the End of the World.  On the first chapter I said if you wanted to be on the taglist still, you needed to let me know.  I barely had anyone actually do that, including people who actually reblogged and commented.

This is not a guilt trip post, if you don’t want to be tagged, ignore it, that’s fine.  I just don’t want you to miss out.  If you want me to tag, please let me know if you wish to continue being tagged in this series.  Can be done by either ask, DM, or reply/comment on this chapter.  Or alternatively you can go to the doc and change the color of your name under the taglist for the fic.

Current people on the taglist for Running to a Standstill who will not be tagged in the sequel tonight unless they add themselves:

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[itsleese]

Answer 20 questions, then tag 20 followers

Did I already do this? IDK. I was tagged my og baby girl @rat-suki​, and my new boo @aurorahoneybuns​! Thank you both!!!

Name: leesa

Nickname: leese, munchie, call me whatever u want idc

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Languages: english

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Favourite Season: winter, because the temperature here is finally livable without air conditioning

Favourite Flower: red roses because im a basic ass bitch (and my dad was covered in red rose tattoos)

Favourite Scent: oof um.. idk, it changes all the time. i wear flowerbomb on the daily tho

Favourite Colour: greens, oranges, golds

Favourite Animals: wolves

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: tea. gimme a chai latte, stat.

Average Sleep: erm... like 5 hours i think

Dogs or Cats: both; I like chill dogs and sociopathic cats

Number of Blankets: 1 on my bed atm. like a billion pillows tho

Dream Trip: on a cruise, all expenses paid around the world with my faves

Blog established: lmao idk, like a couple of years ago?

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Random Fact: I hate onions

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[twistedrunes]

Fire In The Belly

Prompt:  (anon) May I request something with Thomas Shelby's gf coming late and tipsy without telling him just bc she wants him to feel what she feels most of the time, angst ?

A/N: I found myself feeling soft for Tommy writing this one (I know! A miracle!) so I give you angst with some fluff. I hope you enjoy it and would love to hear what you think. (1400 words)

Warnings: Language, allusions to violence, angry words and drinking. 

pic @aranoburns - here

The house is dark and still, slipping your shoes off at the front door you tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky third and fifth treads. There’s no light from any of the upstairs rooms. You wonder if Tommy’s out and this whole evening has been in vain. What’s the point of staying out half the night to show Tommy what it’s like to sit at home waiting, not knowing what’s going on, when he hadn’t even been home to notice. You pause outside the door listening. Your heart sinks, he’s not home.

Maybe Lizzie was right. You wince as the memory of her words sting hot on your cheeks, words that had driven you from the office and out on the town with Ada and Jessie. Determined to give Tommy a taste of his own medicine you’d stayed out drinking and laughing until the early morning. Fighting through the fondness in your heart and the warmth between your legs that alcohol always brought to you when you thought of him. You wanted to make a point and were willing to make yourself uncomfortable to do so.

At the top of the stairs, another thought hits you, what if Tommy is out looking for you? Your heart soars at the thought before rapidly falling through the pit of your stomach. Tommy stands in the window, back to you shadow spanning the room, nearly reaching the door. You freeze. There’s a light tinkle of metal on metal, and the click of his pocket watch opening, Tommy’s head drops to look at the face. Without turning his body, he looks at you over his shoulder. You can’t see his face in the darkness until he drags on his cigarette, the red hue highlighting the angles of his face. Tommy turns back to the window without a word.

The silence stretches out between you, Tommy remains at the window, back to you, his only movement bringing the cigarette to his lips. You remain in the open doorway watching him, the fire in your belly from earlier in the evening returns.

“Say something!” Your outburst explodes into the space between you.

Tommy remains impassive, smoke rising from his cigarette in a thin stream towards the ceiling.

“Really? Tommy? You have nothing to say?”

Tommy’s body turns towards you slightly as he grinds his cigarette out in the ashtray. “What do you want me to say?” He asks calmly.

“It’s not about what I want you to say; it’s about what you want to say.” You yell.

“There’s nothing to say,” Tommy says, turning to face you and leaning back against the window sill.

“Nothing?!” You cry throwing your shoes at him. He slides to the left a little, and they miss. “Really?” Your voice rises. “After three years you have nothing to say? After years of me waiting, sitting by the phone, watching out the window, listening to the hours tick by, waiting for you to come home. Saying nothing about the blood, the bruises, the hour or your suspiciously crumpled clothes. I go out one night, one night I get drunk and have a good time with my friends, and you fucking want to end it?” You’re screaming now, crossing the room towards him angrily. “Fuck you, Tommy. Fuck off to your rescued whore and fucking stay there.”

You’re face to face with him now, his face shows no anger in return, it’s infuriating, and you have to stop yourself from slapping him. “Did you even notice I wasn’t home? Did you even care? Did you wonder where I was? Did you even consider what might have happened to me? Did you worry at all?” Your voice is wavering, you close your eyes to focus on the anger and bring it back to the surface. “All the shit I’ve put up with Tommy, and you want to end it like this? Fuck you!” You spin on your heel intending to storm off.

Tommy catches your arm, preventing your dramatic exit, turning you back to face him, before taking your shoulders in his hands. “I’m not going to fight with you sweetheart,” he says kissing your forehead gently. You bristle and struggle against him. He holds you in place and pulls you closer. “’Look at you, ‘ey all ready for a fight, you must have a belly full of rum.” His voice is warm and gently teasing.

“Don’t patronise me,” You growl, pushing your hands firmly against this chest and stepping back. “Don’t fucking, patronise me.” You repeat glaring up at him.

Tommy laughs quietly, as his hands slide down your arms and take yours “You were definitely out with Jessie and Ada weren’t you?”

“How do you know I wasn’t out with some man?” You shoot back, trying to get him to respond.

“And listening to Lizzie’s shitty gossip and lies,” he continues, eyebrow rising questioningly “yeah?” You look away. “Right, let’s sort this out then shall we?” He says leading you to the bed and sitting down. He tugs your hand gently encouraging you to do the same.

You drop down on the bed, eyes rolling and expression bored. “Fine.”

“Right, so do you want to start this again?” He asks.

“Just say what you have to say and let me get out of here.” You say defiantly, hoping you sound tougher than you feel.

“There’s nothing to say because there’s nothing to say. Of course, I would have worried if I’d come home and you weren’t here.” Tommy says, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Before you can respond, he carries on. “I wasn’t worried, because when I got to the office, late,” he concedes, stroking the backs of his knuckles over your hair. Your head drops slightly, and he opens his palm cupping your cheek. “Polly told me what Lizzie said, told me that you had left with Ada. So I knew where you were, and who you were with and I knew you were safe.” He shuffles closer and tips your chin, his nose brushing against yours before he presses his lips to yours. “So I knew.”

You shrink down into yourself, embarrassed. Tommy’s calmness quenching the fire in your belly. “I just wanted you to know what it feels like.” You admit meekly. “You don’t understand what it’s like, sitting at home, waiting.”

“Come ‘ere,” Tommy says, pulling you into his lap as he shuffles back against the headboard. He holds you against him, smoothing your hair and caressing your hip. “I do know. I worry about you, all of you, all the time. I know you worry, I know you get scared. Do you think I like being late home? Coming home to you is one of my favourite parts of my day.” He says pressing his forehead to yours, meeting your eye. “Everything I do is so I can come home to you.” He says, kissing you again. You nod, head bowed and tucked under his chin. Tommy’s arms wrap around your waist. “What are you doing listening to fuckin’ Lizzie for ‘ey?”

You shrug, “She’s always trying to keep me in the dark about where you are, and she’s so fucking smug that she knows things I don’t.”

Tommy sighs “You just have to ignore her, be the bigger person.”

“She makes that very difficult,” You sigh.

You can feel Tommy’s smile against your cheek.  “I’ll talk to her.”

“Everyone knows she wants you.” You mumble churlishly.

“I don’t want her. You’re all I want. You’re everything I need.” Tommy says taking your chin in his hand. He kisses you, hard and insistently, eye’s holding yours. The last of your anger and frustration melts away, and Tommy slides you off his lap, laying you back on the mattress and positioning himself above you. He kisses your forehead, following it quickly with a kiss to your nose and then cheeks and then everywhere else until you giggle. “There she is, my beautiful girl,” Tommy says happily.

You take his face in your hands and pull his mouth to yours kissing him hard. You’re both breathless when you break apart. The soft smile passing between you a sign everything is okay between you again. “What’s your favourite part of the day?” you ask, stroking your fingers over his cheek.

“I told you,” Tommy says kissing your palm.

“No, you said coming home was one of your favourite parts of the day. So what’s your favourite?”

“This one.”

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[theenchantedgalleryofstories]

Sugar Daddy Steve by @tilltheendwilliwrite

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[ceridwenofwales]

Summary: Ivar is trying to connect with Moyra and their unborn baby, but she is still cautious. As the preparations for the ceremony to free her progress, they get to know more about one another. 

Warning: Animal Sacrifice.

I would like to once more express my gratitude for everyone who is still patiently waiting for an update of Alpha and Omega and supporting me with lovely comments, likes and reblogs. Especial mention to @grungyblonde and @whenimaunicorn because they endured my endless rant about the plot for this alternate timeline and gave me amazing ideas. 

Moyra looked around and her gaze fell on Rhona and Birger. She doubted Haakon spared Rhona from the heavy work while she carried the child he forced on her.

Ivar frowned, able to read her so well. He knew what was weighing on her mind as Moyra glanced at Rhona and Birger. Even if she didn’t say it.

“I would never treat you that way. I hope you believe it.” Ivar said suddenly, startling Moyra from her trance, “You’re a free woman.”

“What does it mean? What will change now, Ivar?” She sat, staring at him.

“It means you don’t belong to me anymore… unless you want to…” His eyes twinkled warmly as he spoke, but Moyra noticed Ivar was as apprehensive as her.

How would it be to belong to him by my choice? How can that be different than being his slave? What will Ivar expect from me if I am to be his wife?

“I still don’t know what I want to myself, Ivar. Now that the path is open before me… I-I need to think now that I have a choice,”  

“I understand. Yes, I understand. No matter what it is your decision, I will provide for you and our child.” Ivar beamed at her, reaching over to cover her trembling hands with his.

“Don’t you think that’s too much?” Moyra asked as quietly as possible when Màiri filled her plate with many slices of the roasted lamb.

“What?” Ivar chuckled, watching as Moyra leaned down to inhale deeply, savoring the aroma of the steaming meat.

Moyra arched her eyebrows and Ivar laughed, throwing his head back.

“The people love an excuse for a lavish feast, and you are giving it to them. They will never forget the day you were freed and that’s the purpose of this feast. With time, the memories tend to blur and fade, but no one will ever forget the Frankish wine they savored when Moyra became a free woman.” Ivar finished with a proud smirk and lifted his goblet to his lips.

“Besides,” Ivar murmured in her ear, “See how Hvitserk is enjoying himself.” Ivar chuckled, watching how her eyelids fluttered at the feeling of his hot breath on her skin. Moyra didn’t know how to feel about Ubbe sailing away with Hvitserk. Ivar’s brother had been there during the first and troubled months of her pregnancy and the notion she should now rely on Ivar was unsettling.

“Do you whisper in any free woman’s ears?” Moyra turned to look at him, pressing her lips together into a thin line.

Ivar licked his lips as he slowly examined her face, trying to understand if her question meant jealousy or if Moyra was only exercising her freedom.

Tag: @grungyblonde , @whenimaunicorn , @tiyetiye, @laketaj24, @pokeasleepingsmaug, @readsalot73, @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme, @lostinthoughtsandfeelings, @skadithegoddess, @naaladareia, @ivarinleatherpants, @fumblingthroughchaos, @ultra-nina-bella, @burntmythroatskullingmytea, @dina-m16, @burningsunshin3, @badbitsh13, @lol-haha-joke, @anunhealthydoseofangst, @synnersaint, @trovbledspiritsonmychest, @wristic, @bitchccraft , @oqueequesentes-borboletas , @romanchronicles , @titty-teetee , @triumphantreturnofpies, @goldentailedmermaids. Feel free to tell me if you want to be tagged or not. Considering the updates are taking longer than, many of you are probably not reading this anymore. I’m sorry that it’s been such a long time since the last update.

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: After all this time has Ivar finally caught his wife's trail?

Taglist: @ubbesgirl, @shewolf2000, @tis-itheapplepie, @atequila, @demoncrypt1066, @greennightspider, @badbitsh13, @fireismysaftey, @minarawr, @laketaj24, @hvitserksgirl, @blahblahcookiesdoma, @fabulous-peasent, @sforsammmmmi, @minmiin1d, @courtrae89, @letsloveimagines, @tomarisela, @titty-teetee, @beyond-the-ashes@elenawrit, @mblaqgi, @whenimaunicorn, @chuflisworld, @mystruggledlife, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @syreni-dea, @trashqueenbitch, @alykatv, @mbaku-babygirl, @perfectus-in-morte, @beyond-the-ashes, @neeadinghugs, @readsalot73, @triumphantreturnofpies, @anarchy-is-coming, @tephi101, @alicedopey, @ivarslittlebadgirl, @jtrstp, @nejijjeoroo, @charlylama, @ivartheblessed, @captstefanbrandt, @fabulouschrissi, @ivarsrideordie, @3x5gurl, @the-writer-appreciation-blog, @lolabee9, @captainfoxy22, @young-ugly-god, @im5ftbutmythroat66, @bribyyy, @irishhiggins, @cadetomlinson, @keclleon101, @slutforragnarssons, @ltkeke, @meeeeeeeeeps, @lille-kanin, @opalscarab, @ssraven7, @ivarandersen, @concretewaywardangel, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @sharon-is-tired, @cadetomlinson, @mystruggledlife, @chuflisworld, @justmarissa97, @lol-haha-joke, @weirdly-randomly-awesome, @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanim, @idonthavehusbandsihavelovers, @alexa040004, @buckythetinman , @burntmythroatskullingmytea,@jorunnravenslayer, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @buffy-the-vampire-blogger, @arses21434, @ltkeke, @captainfoxy22, @chinduda @letsshamelessqueen-m @my-soul-is-the-moon @we-are-transcendent

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Anyone working under the delusion that Ivar would accept the fact that his wife had escaped him eventually learned that would not be the case.

His men had stopped their violent search of Kattegat, just as he had promised Bjorn, but he was still searching for her.

Even as the months went on to become nearly a full year.

(Y/N) had been missing for ten months, one week and four days, Ivar was keeping count of his lonely nights. Despite how the people talked he had not let Freydis warm his bed in his wife’s absence.

Instead he spent most of his days and nights in his war room, looking over all the maps of other cities and villages that Kattegat traded with the most. He was furious at the fact that there had been no news from any of his informants, and his relationship with his brothers did little to comfort him.

Bjorn was, as he expected, furious at his sending off warriors to such vital trading cities. He had shouted himself nearly blue when he’d arrived at Ivar’s estate; of course he let the King do his whining and even allowed him to smash his war table in his tantrum, because to him none of it mattered.

His ships had sailed, his warriors deployed and there was nothing to be done about it; not by Bjorn or even himself. Hvitserk, like he always had, chose to remain neutral in the argument. Ubbe was clearly on Bjorn’s side, but unlike Bjorn, Ubbe seemed to understand why he had acted so hastily even if he disapproved of the actions.

Currently Ubbe was the only one of his brothers who had friendly conversations with him, and Ivar would never be able to express how much he appreciated the company in these hard months.

‘Still no news?’ Ubbe asked as they both sat on the beach and watched a merchant ship approach.

‘Nearly a hundred spies and no good news.’ Ivar sighed.

‘No good news?’ the eldest questioned.

‘My spies reported at last that they had a difficult time keeping track of (Y/N) in my time away, she would leave town alone around midday…and would not return home until nearly sunset.’ Ivar confessed, laying back in the sand and covering his eyes.

Ubbe felt his heart begin to beat faster, but he was not sure how much information Ivar truly had on the subject they were discussing.

‘You think she had an affair?’

‘I do not know, that is what tortures me brother. Not knowing things has always angered me, and now it seems I know less than ever. I don’t know if she was unfaithful, I don’t know where she is; all I know is she isn’t here.’

Ubbe had such conflicting feelings battling in his chest as he watched a few easy to miss tears roll down his brother's face. He was relieved to not have been discovered as (Y/N)’s lover, but still he was upset to see his brother in pain and know he was at least partially responsible for it.

‘If you think she was unfaithful why continue the search? Let go of your devotions and remarry, you have no obligations to her.’

'Why would I ever think such a thing?' Ivar asked, his anger visibly raising.

‘I will not let go, Ubbe.’ Ivar said as he sat back up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

‘Not of her, not my marriage and not my anger. I will find her and she will answer every question I have.’

‘But what if you don’t find her? So far it has been nearly a year and you have had no progression in your search. It pains me to see you destroying yourself and your reputation for one woman you can replace so easily.’

Ivar looked over at his brother incredulously.

‘She can’t be replaced, not by Freydis or any woman in this world. She feared me Ubbe, do you understand that? From the day we stepped into that insignificant Christian kingdom, she looked at an army and still she feared me the most out of them.’

‘Ivar, every woman you have spoken to fears you. It would be impossible to find a woman in Kattegat you did not terrify.’

‘I know that, but how many of them would be brave enough to marry someone as vicious as me? How many would make that sacrifice? She could have stayed quiet and let any of those women be dragged away, but she stepped forward. Those Christian men offered her up like a lamb for sacrifice and still she wanted them to live, and was even smart enough to know how to play my mind games.’ Ivar explained.

‘How could I replace a woman like that, a woman that brave, who fears a filthy cripple like me?’

Ubbe sighed and stood up, looking out at the sea and saw that the ship was nearly at the docks, but he decided he could offer his younger brother some advice.

‘You shouldn’t want her to fear you, Ivar. How can anyone love what they fear?’

Ivar looked taken aback, as if he’d never considered not terrifying his wife, but instead of responding he turned his focus over to the ship crew that was unloading the boat.

‘I don’t see how he thought he was secretive?’ one of the men said casually as he helped to dock the ship.

‘He’s young, he’s never smuggled a damn thing and it shows,’

Ivar’s ears perked up upon hearing this conversation and he quickly called the two merchants over; abandoning his own chat with Ubbe.

The two men looked over at the princes curiously; as they had not been aware of the chaotic search for the Christian nun that had occurred while they were at sea.

‘Prince Ivar, Prince Ubbe.’ one of them greeted and the other nodded in agreement.

‘I’m happy that the Gods brought you all back to us, I would like to treat your crew to a small feast on my estate in the next fortnight.’ Ivar said cheerily.

Ubbe quickly understood the game Ivar was playing and he decided he wanted no part in it at all.

He bid his brother a less than polite goodbye and left the two men to Ivar’s manipulation.

A feast for a simple unimportant ship crew was unheard of, especially a feast given by a prince. It would have been considered a great sign of disrespect to decline his hospitality.

The two men thanked Ivar for his unwarranted kindness and went to let the others know that they would all, along with their families, be expected at the youngest Prince’s estate.

Ivar watched the ship crew discuss their surprising treat and he pulled himself up onto his crutches and began to walk back to the markets.

As he limped along his way he subtly motioned for one of his spies, a thrall working outside of the butcher’s stand, to walk along side him.

Obediently the man followed the wordless order and matched Ivar’s pace.

‘Everyone under my purse is to watch the men on the merchant ship that just docked. Every man is to be followed for the next fortnight. I will expect daily reports if anyone fails to report even one hour of their actions I will have them hung.’ Ivar said strictly not looking at the man at all.

As he had wished, his warning went a long way in getting the results he wanted. He received reports in the crewmens’ every action, he’d even gotten reports describing their trips into the woods to relieve themselves.

Still no news of his wife or of what the two men suspected a crew mate of smuggling, but Ivar was sure that this was the right ship.

He had discovered the ship had sailed off the morning after (Y/N) had vanished.

Ivar tasked his thralls with preparing for the feast and he was impressed with how well they had performed.

By the night his feast was set to happen he had large tables sat outside under a cloudless starlit sky and there were heaps of fine dishes and mead as well as wine from England.

The crewmen were all in awe of the extravagant show of hospitality and everyone gave him their thanks in person.

Ivar mingled among them and was pleased that the news of his wife's disappearance had become common knowledge to all of the men.

‘May I speak with you Prince Ivar?’ one of the men asked as he approached the high table.

Ivar was quick to recognize the man as one of the men he’d spoken to on the beach.

‘Of course come with me.’

With a great amount of control Ivar calmly led the man into his home away from the festivities.

‘What would you like to discuss?’ the prince asked.

‘Forgive my intruding, but I have heard of your wife’s disappearance, and I- I think I have some information to give.’ I asked.

This was what Ivar had planned; to give the crew such a grand feast that at least one man would be grateful enough to betray one another.

‘Please, I would owe you an unimaginable debt if you could help me find my wife.’ Ivar said cunningly.

‘I can’t be sure if it was your wife, all I know is that Amund had someone in that crate. We more experienced in smuggling saw him speaking with it, sliding his rations into it even.’ the old man said.

‘A crate?’ Ivar asked.

‘Yes, big crate, it could easily fit one person, maybe even two.’

‘Two?’ Ivar said, feeling his grip on his crutch tighten in his anger.

She’d had an affair and ran off with some nobody; she’d decided weeks locked in a crate with another man was better than the rest of her life with him.

‘You said this man’s name was…?’ Ivar questioned, struggling to keep his anger hidden.

‘Amund, strong boy; he went ahead of the rest of us and the first thing off the boat was the crate.’

Ivar took in all this information, trying to piece together what all this implied and he determined he needed more to work with.

‘Tell me, what happened after the merchandise was unloaded. Did he hide the crate?’

‘No, the crate was in the assigned room when we all brought in the rest, still nailed shut too. The Earl granted us his hospitality to rest after our journey.’

Again Ivar was silent, trying very hard to picture in his mind what could have happened. If (Y/N) was in the crate and this Amund was the one responsible for getting her out why did he leave it sealed?

‘Big enough for two…’ he mused, thinking that if there was a man strong enough inside with her he could break out of the crate with her then she could have escaped with him.

‘Was this crate ever damaged, or moved?’ he asked the crewman.’

‘No, at least not to my knowledge, but the journey had been harder on my body than usual in my advanced age. When the Earl offered us rest I rested, but I did hear rumors.’ the man continued.

‘Rumors?’

‘The merchants spoke of one of our crewmen walking into the Great Hall carrying an unconscious woman. I never saw her, but she was the topic of much gossip while we restocked the ship.’

‘Did anyone on your ship see this woman, even a glimpse of her?’

‘I can not say with certainty, I can only say that Amund smuggled someone out of Kattegat.’

The anger for the old man’s lack of knowledge was red hot and only cooled by his relief of finally having a lead.

Thank you for telling what you could, please enjoy the feast with your family. It is a celebration in the honor of you and all traders like you, what would our world look like without brave men like you all.’ the prince complimented as he dismissed the man.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Freydis, silent as death, immerged from the shadows of the dim lit room.

‘Spread the word, I want this man, Amund identified, and followed. He shouldn’t be able to sneeze without me knowing when and where.’ Ivar ordered, his voice much harder than it had been mere seconds ago.

‘For how long?’

‘As long as it takes for him to let down his guard and let the information slip.’

While Ivar’s spies began to focus on Amund, all the way in Denmark, (Y/N) was adapted into her new life.

In the first week of her new life as a thrall she quickly realized two things.

The first was that the life of a nun and the life of a thrall was eerily similar in many regards. An older, more hardened and experienced woman would assign tasks to her and then would judge if the task was completed correctly and met her standards. If she did well she would be given another, often more challenging task, but if it did not meet Hilda’s standards there was punishment.

It was a rare occasion when (Y/N) was on the receiving end of Hilda’s wrath, which was why her punishments always seemed so harsh in comparison to the other girls.

The second thing was that, even despite the hatred the head thrall clearly had for her, she greatly preferred the life of a thrall over the life she had fled from.

Sure the shed the thralls all shared was cold and hardly much of a shelter at all but she slept fine knowing she wouldn’t wake up to Ivar’s rage.

And even better she found other Christians among the women she now shared status with.

It felt as if she had been welcomed into a new church, even if it had only been a small circle consisting of three women of various ages.

There was Kendra, the youngest being only around nineteen who had been captured and sold from York. Dawn was in her mid thirties and was a cook, she had never said where she was from originally, just that she had been only thirteen when she became the old cook’s apprentice. Finally there was Megan who was closer to (Y/N)’s age being twenty four, she was originally from Essex.

After two years of hiding her faith from her tyrannical husband, praying amongst others was euphoric. Holding hands in prayer was what she looked forward to most when she awoke at first light.

Every morning she would be awakened by Hilda whacking a wooden stick against the walls of the shed from outside before the doors of the shed were thrown open.

‘Get up! Work to be done!’ she boomed unnecessarily.

It was common knowledge that anyone still laying down by the time the doors opened would not only be promptly hit with the stick but they also would get no first meal.

The term meal was used loosely, it was only gr Rx bone broth and uncooked crops or, if they were so lucky, scraps from feasts.

Today’s meal was bone broth and carrots, after receiving her portion (Y/N) went to the corner with her small group and they shared a brief prayer over your meal before eating quickly.

‘What is your chore list today Kendra?’ she asked the youngest.

‘Caring for the Earl’s stock.’ was the answer she was given.

‘Be sure you give the chickens enough, the last few we’ve cooked were more feathers than meat.’ Dawn sighed.

‘I will be…preparing for a visitor.’ Megan said quietly, hardly touching her small meal.

At this all of them went silent.

Megan was often used as a cleaning girl around the great hall, but on the rare occasion that the Earl had important company she was a bed warmer.

It was a truly horrible fate for any woman but it seemed to be an especially cruel task for a Christian.

Every night before Hilda came in to order everyone to sleep they all joined hands in a silent prayer, but even still it was obvious Megan only prayed for God’s mercy and forgiveness.

(Y/N) reached out and took Megan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

‘God knows your heart and he knows your mind and spirit. He knows what sins you choose to commit and he knows the sins done against you. He will always forgive your sins and in time he will punish those who have sinned you.’ she encouraged.

Megan held onto the hand that she had been offered. Of course all the women of this small congregation were close, but Megan had such a strong connection and admiration for (Y/N).

The lie that Amund had told the Earl was widely believed and widely discussed in the markets. Meaning it was well known that (Y/N) was a runaway bed warmer herself.

It was for this reason that Megan looked at (Y/N) such wonder and great respect. In her unknowing eyes (Y/N) had done the impossible; escaped a lifetime of being nothing but a common whore for Pagans.

‘Hurry up you dogs! There's work to be done and if even one task isn’t completed then no one eats tonight!’ Hilda’s voice boomed.

Realizing that she hadn’t been focusing on her already cooling broth (Y/N) quickly drank the remaining liquid in the wooden bowl and stuck her carrots into her skirts.

Hopefully she would get a moment to sneak away and eat them before nightfall, if not then she would give it away to a beggar.

They all arose and set out to their assigned work locations.

Hilda sent a glare of pure malice at (Y/N) as she passed her on the way out of the shed.

‘If I hear so much as a word against you from the healers I’ll have you flogged.’ the old haggish woman warned.

‘Yes Hilda.’ (Y/N) replied, the air of respect and responsibility in her tone before she went on.

She had been assigned as a healer’s apprentice due to her telling the Earl she had some experience in that field of work.

Her days were spent gathering herbs and roots, mixing and brewing, occasionally there will be a person who is injured or falls so ill they need physical care and when that happens she would be the one to give them care. She would clean them, try to close up or disinfect their wounds and feed them remedies.

Today when she entered the healer’s hut she was met with the now familiar scent of living rotting flesh.

‘Girl.’ the healer, an old ragged woman named Skadi, called to her from the table where she was laying out her supplies.

‘Who is it?’ the thrall asked as she approached.

‘One of the Earl’s blacksmiths; got his foolish self cut and didn’t think to clean the sore.’

‘Infection, can it be treated?’

‘No, but he’ll survive.’ Skadi said sadly as she placed her necessary materials on a tray.

There were ropes to tie off the blood flow and restrain him, a leather strap to keep the man from biting off or swallowing his tongue, and a red hot ax in order to both remove the limb and cauterize the wound.

You hated doing this but it was necessary, the hut stunk with infection but it didn’t smell of death quite yet.

The man was older, maybe forty but clearly he’d lived a hard life to reach that age. He was quiet but his chest was heaving as if he had been fighting for each breath. His eyes were screwed shut and his head was turned away from his rotting hand.

It truly was disgusting to see a hand that mangled. The wound was still open, but no longer bleeding leaving an open gash caked in blackened blood and crusted puss.

She went about tying him down, making sure to be extra precise when restraining the arm that would soon be handless.

This was how she spent her days, in the hut with the sick and injured. It was a far cry from her old life in Kattegat. She was no longer a prince’s wife that was tended to by a full staff of thralls. Now she was herself thrall and she was called upon to do hard, truly hard, work and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaving the hut for the day (Y/N) found herself exhausted but hopeful that the man would be ok once he was rested.

As she made her way back to the shed she chomped on the carrots she had stored away from breakfast, thankful to have them at least in case someone really didn’t finish their chores and no one was given dinner tonight.

It was as she finished her last carrot that something compelled her to look over at the beach as she neared the shed.

There was a ship, of course there was a ship at the beach; where else would a ship be if not at sea. That wasn’t what made her stop in her tracks, it was undoubtedly a Kattegat ship.

By no means was (Y/N) an expert on such things but after two years she could single out Floki’s handiwork from any other boat builder.

Those sails, the dragon figurehead…that was not a merchant ship.

With her heart racing she hurried into the shed and huddled into the corner where she slept, but she did not lay down.

She just sat with her hands fiddling with the threads of her skirts, as she thought back to the morning conversation she’d had.

A visitor, an important enough visitor to be offered a bed warmer.

How had she not thought to ask who this visitor was? She prayed with all her heart that it wasn’t Ivar, but there was no way to be sure.

No, Ivar couldn’t know which boat you snuck onto, even if he did he wouldn’t just devote himself to hunting you.

At least not personally.

Ivar was a prince of a wealthy kingdom, as well as a respected warlord in his own right. What man would dare to disobey him if he ordered them to find you.

Everything was hitting her all at once.

She would have to leave tonight…run until she made it to the next town.

With what? No food, supplies or weapons to protect yourself? This wasn’t like the cold journey to Floki’s that last night. This would be a three day trip by foot. Not to mention it was no longer winter. It was spring and roads would be busy and therefore dangerous. A woman in rags traveling alone was little more than an invitation for a rapist on his way.

It wasn’t ideal by any means but it was either risk the dangers of the road or stay and be turned over to Ivar by whatever man Ivar had sent after her.

‘(Y/N), you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’ Kendra said as she sat beside her.

‘Not to be dramatic, but it feels as if I have.’

[thranduilsperkybutt]

Gif source:  Mine

Imagine Rip overhearing the boys in the Bunkhouse making crude comments about you and he intervenes.

---------  Request for anon  ---------

“Save a horse, am I right?” Ryan’s grinning, throwing conversation back and forth with the other ranch hands as he watches you on your path into the barn to put your mare away for the evening. Walker rolls his eyes beside him, leaning on the wall of the Bunkhouse, but casting a glance your way, his smile tells his agreement.

Colby shakes his head, “Like she’s ever looked twice at you.”

“Why not? I’m a catch---”

“Can’t say I agree, Ryan,” Walker hums casually enough, before his grin cuts wider, “‘cause it’s gonna’ be my boots at the end of her bed, ‘fore long.”

“Wanna’ bet---?”

Ryan’s rebuttal is cut off by the sight of Rip rounding the side of the Bunkhouse, madder than a wet hornet and clearly having heard their conversation with the finger he points in their direction, “Y’all dipshits better watch your mouths. Don’t y’all got work to do?”

Colby and Ryan jump into action, moving with an obedient stride back to work, but Walker stays leaning on the side of the Bunkhouse. If he was going back to work, he’d do it on his own time.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Walker,” Rip grits, stopping to stand right in front of him, but the slender man just looks up from under his hat. “Maybe instead of worryin’ about chasing tail, you should worry about earnin’ that second chance Kayce gave you.”

“And, what? Leave all the tail chasin’ to you?” Walker shoots back, quick, like he can’t quite help himself. There’s no fighting on this ranch, but Rip has to force himself not to smack the smirk off his face. Walker moves away from his lean on the wall, as if he’s finally suited to get back to work, but not before he tacks on with a nod towards the barn, where you’re now reemerging, “Didn’t figure you were holdin’ out for your slice, too.”

There’s no fighting on this ranch... but the way Rip lays Walker out isn’t much of a fight at all.

General + Imagines Tag List:

@im5-tw @hanoi15 @thatbitchann @genericbrowngurl @badbitsh13 @wayward-sociopath-221b @abisexualsailormoon @thatsjustdamncrazy @breadsquash @mydelightfultigerbouquet @midnightzonzz @stylebydesignxo @otassbek @a-pigeon-is-spying-on-me @mysecondcarisa67chevyimpala +   @dorkofclanlavellan @kristalulah

[velvet-paradox]

Traveler (Part One)

Fandom: Calm With Horses/ The Shadow of Violence Pairing: Dympna Devers x Female reader Summary: your career as a photographer leads you to Ireland and an unsuspecting meeting with a well known family in town. Length: Long Warnings: eventual NSFW 18+ ONLY, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, strong language, explicit content, though they know your name you’re commonly referred to as Yankee or Yank. Tagging: @synnersaint @druigbarnes01 @littleplutoisaplanet @brookisbi @yoursopretty15 @marauderswhoree @azurewitch @autumnrose929 @badbitsh13 @123crossiant123 @mrsmooneyshouse @milklungsblog @sniwstrom @pjnkhoe @dreadwolfxoxo @mrsilovevillains @unbetiteltlife @xkaoruu @purebillskarsgardtrash @barryswifey @mrsniallhoran505 @heylolitahey13 @emilie1993 @enchantingeggslimepeanut @oh-yeah-i-exist @greekktragedyy @celtic-orgin @alivnysstuff @itsthestutterforme @shityoudidntaskfor @tompetersebbuckyhazleo @chainsawvigilante @mothdruid @purebillskarsgardtrash @amberrubens

ENJOY!!!

Apparently there wasn't much to do around here in Glenbeigh then gossip as this was now the third time you'd heard of the Devers family. The topic of conversation was held between two older men with thick accents you could just make out in between solid syllables a few covered booths down.

"Those Devers are trouble all trouble, the lot of 'em."

"Don' I know it! You hear what that daft Dympna did the other night, right?"

"Christ now what?"

"We're having some drinks some laughs, kids playin' pool an' all that with the big man no 'arm no foul, next thing I know is that little shite smashes a bottle against this kids head! really starts layin' into 'em too, thought he shot his bolt! Starts kicking him, then an' ol' Arm comes round and had to pull 'em off the boy to make him stop. He's in over his head."

"Jeez. That kid is a menace. What would his father, rest his soul, say?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop but their voices were deep and carried across the whole restaurant. You finished your fries, making it a point not to get too friendly to those kinds of people. Breaking bottles on people's head was not on your itinerary. 

You'd come here to the west side of Ireland a few days ago, the cascading sights and landscape  and not to mention the ancient rock sites that intrigued you the most had brought you from your home in the states to Ireland for your profession. You were determined to get an award winning photograph this year, you came in third for Top 10 of the year. 

You're hobby as a child has blossomed into a full fledged career and it brought you here. So far you'd taken a few beautiful stills of roaming wild sheep along the two line road, you pulled over immediately in your rental giddy as the day as is long to see the fluffy little things. Just out there, in the wild living their best lives in the countryside.

You'd been all over the globe, India, the African Coast, Columbia all of it beautiful snapping an array of stills and portraits along the way filling up your professional portfolio and some for your own fun. Ever your mother's daughter some back home liked to remind you as if you could forget, while she dives into oil pastels and watercolors you took up the lens always observing what would seem mundane or ordinary, you two had an eye for that sort of thing.

Those candid shots were hung up in your place back home. You picked up your camera left your tip on the table and chimed through the doors, the fresh air and mist from the nearby hills filled you with promise.

"You ain't from around 'ere." A man stated, though the typical camera in hand would've given you away in any country. You looked up to see where he was, leaning against his side of matte red two door car, parked right behind your rental. He had a nice build from what you could see, in a leather jacket and deep colored jeans. He smoked a cigarette.

"That obvious huh?" You smiled and walked up to him.

The man had darker hair underneath the blonde highlights up top with the back and sides shaved, he smirked and held up two fingers and wrinkled his nose. His eyes were the palest blue you'd come across so far and one held a little tattoo at the corner of it. "Just a little. You any good, Yankee?" He pointed his cigarette at your camera.

"Good enough."

"Take my picture then. Go on, let's see." The man straightened up, fisted the front of his jacket and posed like a real natural, cigarette dangling like James Dean with his chin up. You told him so and he grinned with the cigarette between his teeth.

You laughed and adjusted your camera, stepping back onto the curb. You snapped a few candid's. He pushed off from the car when you turned it around so he could see the screen.

"Not bad not bad. What are you doin' here anyways? business or pleasure?" He flicked the rest of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out a few times with the heel of his boot.

"Both," you shrugged. "That old saying is true, if you love what you do it's not really work."

"I hear ya'."

"What about you?"

"Business." He pointed to building next door, unsuspecting and simple. You might have to snap a few shots before you went back to your hotel.

"I won't keep you then, I'll be around for a bit if you want a print of your pictures." You started to walk to your car and you could feel him watching you do so.

"Aye hold on there Yankee! I didn't catch yer name. How am I supposed to find ya'?" He held his hands out at his sides just a burly man stepped out from the building, he looked at you and then to the smirking man with a frown.

"Y/N and you?"

He grinned and took a playful bow. "Dympna. Guess I'll be seein' you around, Yank."

You smiled and got into your car, the bigger man walked around to the passenger side as you looked through the side view mirror. You could see them talking in the car when you signaled and went back to your hotel room for the night.

....

You had asked more than a few locals for some shooting locations, their favorite rock sites or some places they thought you should see. You made another entry into your pocket notebook, tucking it into your back pocket. One young man shouted out a few bar names, one of which was a dive and the other pretty hoppin' club as he said, his words not yours. You wrote those down too.

Leaves and branches crunched under your boots as you found a nice hiking trail one of the women in town had suggested, it was beautiful and almost out of a fairy tale as the more trees you passed you began to notice a whimsical pattern.

'Fairy Crossing' signs were abundant, little stones made up little piles along with mushroom rings. You took pictures of those and of the little painted birdhouses you saw attached to the trunks of large trees. The lookout from that spot would look great in your hallway you thought as you took a few more, turning your head to get the right shot.

You froze along the path, a deer had bounced into your frame, it blinked and looked away but not before you caught it scampering off. When you looked at the faun it was just on the end of being blurry, another one for back home you thought as you went over some of the pictures.

You put your things away and took a shower, the dirt and grim from your trip into the woods clung to your clothes and shoes and with the added mist in the air here it hung around your face and hair as well. With nothing to do you pulled out your notebook looking at the names of places yet to be visited. The suggested bars jumped out at you, not one over the other as you bit your lips you made your decsion and checked the distance on your phone, neither one was too far from each other or you, you felt safe enough for walking distance enjoying the nightlife as much as you could.

You could hear the music before you saw the club, bassy and it reminded you of home. You smiled and made your way in, that young kid was right you thought as the place was packed though you could still hear each other talk if you wanted a conversation. The red and pink lights that danced along the darker walls was pretty and created a nice ambience that you appreciated and thought of the way it would look on camera. A set of pool tables was in the far back, made known by the laughter and clacking of pool balls, there was a decent dance floor too. You smiled and made your way through a group of shit talking friends, side stepping out of the way to the bar top. 

It only took a few minutes for the bartender to notice his newest patron. A young guy with a shaved head slid down to you, leaning over to hear your drink request. You smiled and opened your mouth just as you heard a raucous shout from the game room side of the club.

You turned your head to see Dympna there with his arms out wide, a dimpled smile on his hard face. "Yankee!" he laughed and shook his head to the beat dancing his way with some pretty fancy footwork over to you, he looked different out of his thick leather jacket. He worn an opened black and white striped button down with a bleach white tank underneath again with the dark jeans and boots. Though the jewelry was nice a touch. "How do, Yankee girly? what are the odds huh? whatcha' doin' out past yer bedtime?"

"Hey! just wanted to check the place out."

"Whatcha' think so far? you get a drink yet?" He asked and you shook your head again about to open your mouth but instead the Irishman to your side, he casually flung his arm around your shoulder which you didn't mind as he seemed friendly enough from your little encounter the other day. "Well we gotta' fix that then don't we?" he smiled at you then slapped the bar top, "Hey big fella' get me a coupla' beers and two shots will ya'?" The bald man nodded. 

You took out some money to pay but he stopped you. 

"Uh uh, you're with us tonight. Money's no good here," you furrowed your brow but slipped your wallet back in your pocket, maybe this was his bar for all you knew, or knew the owner or had some sort of pull around town. Dympna gave your shoulder a squeeze, shaking you playfully. "So what do you do back home then, are you a dancer, an arcade kinda' girl or you fancy pool?" 

"I'm a jack of all trades, but games mostly. If you had some Ski-ball I'd be down for that! but it sounds like you've got a good game going back there."

"Oh sure you wanna' come play or watch or both? 'm having a good night, nice to have me new friend pal around with my old ones for a bit, yeah?" "Sure, if that's alright?"

"Is that alright she says," Dympna chuckled and moved you closer to the bar, handing you the shot the tender just gave out. "You're a funny one, of course it's alright! stick with me and you're bound t' have a good time. You'll see. Bottoms up now, you." 

He was clearly having a good time, cheersing you before slamming it back in unison. He snagged your beer bottle from the top, taking his own and headed towards the billiard room, dancing his way through the threshold.

"Look alive boys!" Dympna announced your arrival as if they knew who you were, you smiled anyway. "Caught me a live one. Boys, this is Y/N the photographer I tol' you all about, right? she's gonna' have a game or two with us."

"You gave him a complex sweetheart, shouldn't have done all that'!" one called out to you.

"What do you mean?"

"Ya' said I could be a model," Dympna set his beer down on the side of the chipped table, tossing his head back like they do in some magazines. "Called me handsome."

"I said you looked like James Dean, that's different."

"Ah! don't go backin' down on yer words now missy, I heard ya' wit' my own two ears, I did. That fella' was handsome and so am I!"

The group laughed and threw peanuts at him while you moved around the dim room.

"So you're the Yank then huh?" The big man you'd seen coming from that simple building asked. 

"Cat's out of the bag."

He smiled sheepishly and out stretch a hand that dwarfed yours at least twice over, calloused and a little busted up you shook it. "Names Douglas, Armstrong. You can call me Arm though, ev'ryone else does."

"So you're a boxer."

His eyebrows met and he jerked his head. "How'd you know tha'?"

You laughed and took a swig of your drink and pointed with the neck of the bottle, "Your ears. My cousin used to box. Almost made pro."

He grabbed one on instinct then nodded. "I used to, 'm retired now, so."

"Too bad, bet you were a real threat."

Arm blushed and little took a drink of his own, he shrugged but you knew by the looks of his cauliflower ears that was most definitely the case. You'd have to ask your new friend about it.

Speaking of-

"Yo Y/N, you up for a game or what?"

"You sure you wanna' get embarrassed in front of your friends?" You challenged and his buddies laughed, poking fun at their friend.

"Ho ho! got a mouth on you girly, we'll see how the Yanks play then." He smiled and swigged his beer.

"You're alright, you. I like ya' already!" One by the name of Needles chimed in and pulled up a stool closer to the table while Dympna readied the set on the worn billiard table. "Gotta' see this, me."

Dympna extended his hand to you after you chalked up your cue across the table, leaning on his own stick. "Ladies first."

You got solids, clacking the balls together as they spread out. You played a few rounds, banter laden as you moved about the table, the low hanging light made his light blue eyes brighter if that was somehow possible. He smiled as he watched you, clicking his teeth as you chose your ball trying to make you second guess yourself. You shot one just shy of the pocket.

"Ah see now that's the American in ya', yer not doin' it the Irish way that's yer problem, now."

"The Irish way? oh please." You guffed and waited for his next move.

"Honestly girly come on gimmie' a chance and I'll show ya'." Dympna wiggled his eyebrows, smiling at you when you laughed out loud.

"Alright," you stood up while his buddies whooped and whistled. "Show me the Irish way then tough guy."

Dympna nodded and shimmied his way to your side of the table. The shots and beers were talking for you, taking his guidance though you had a feeling he just wanted to get closer to you. He puffed out his chest before moving your hips against the hardest part of the table, angling you a certain way as he felt confident in your stance, you laughed when you felt his chest press into your side that you were apparently holding the stick all wrong and that was another problem. He chuckled in your ear as he showed you how to shoot your shot even though you were clearly a worthy opponent. You turned your head as he caged you in, his hand over yours with his chest now on your back. 

His face was incredible close and if you two were alone you might've let him kiss you, but you weren't. You had to give to Dympna, he was confident in a way you hadn't seen for a long time, all he did was smile and smell fantastic, he pointed with his chin for you look at the table as he took to the shot. The rolled right in.

Lucky shot.

You dried your hands in the bathroom, splashing a bit of cold water on your face. Two rounds with that smooth talker and his friends had you feeling good and warm, you listened as laughed as they told jokes and stories. You were glad you came out.

That is until you left the bathroom, drying your hands the rest of the way on the sides of your pants when you were met with two tall dark haired women, one had her arms crossed.

"You ought to be careful there girly, you don't know who you playin' wit'."

You stopped and looked at the cross armed woman, her friend nodded with a feigned expression. "What do you mean?"

"We'll spare ya' the details sweetheart, you ain't bein' a local and all. Them lads you're wit', their not the soft and gentle type, no. You cross one you cross 'em all, fuck around and find out you'll be on the wrong end of Arm."

You swallowed hard and recalled his beat up knuckles, he said he was retired but those were fresh. 

"Arm wasn't like that before, not before he got mixed up with those Devers."

There was that name again! you decided to finally ask.

"Devers?"

"Oh yeah," the cross armed woman took down her hands and turned you to face the billiard room, you could see Dympna in the archway holding his side as he bent backwards in hysterics. "Your little pool buddy, he's a Devers. Not as bad as his uncles but he's on the rise, I'd be careful around them boys if I were you or steer clear of that whole lot all together. Bad news follows the Devers."

"She's right. Keep your eyes open around 'em, they'll skin you alive if you let 'em. Be careful girly, hate to see a tourist get lost in all that mess."

"Keep your wits about you is all, yeah? know the company yer keepin'."

They sent you on your way but you felt fuzzy, from the booze or the bubble of information you couldn't be sure. These were members of the family you'd been hearing about all damn week. You fraternizing with the resident rebels. You'd heard a number of things about them in that short time and here you were joking and laughing and drinking with them, you even wanted to kiss one not that long ago. Blood pounded in your ears as you made it back to the room, you weren't sure if you would, what if you did cross one on accident or offend one of them... you decided to play it cool and instead of return to your hotel you went back to the game room.

"Thought you fell in, was gonna' send a search party." Arm joked and you laughed, hopefully with some humor in it as you joined the fray.

"Just getting some air, think I might head out on you guys though. Still a little jet legged."

Arm nodded and waved Dympna over with a heavy hand, he splayed his other one on your shoulder. You bit your lip at the now known fact that he'd done some damage recently.

"What's up big fella'?"

"Yankee wants to go home, she's tired. Better make sure she gets home safe, right?"

"Already?" he looked at you and pouted but rolled his neck and called it a night to his friends, they waved at you and you waved back. "Alright missy, let's get you home safe now."

The air outside was a pleasant reprieve, it hadn't settled on you until you were out in the night that you were sweating, the cool air hitting your hot skin like a bucket of water. You waited for Dympna as he shrugged on his jacket at the door, lighting a cigarette he gave a thumbs up to the bouncer and found you by the curb. He dumped his arm over your shoulder as you walked in the direction of your hotel.

"So did ya' have fun tonight?"

"I did." You didn't know if you should bring up what those girls had mentioned just yet but it weighed as heavily on your as his arm did. You wondered if he put in work of the Arm kind too. "I'm glad I came out."

"Me too! we lot bounce aroun' a bit, house parties or the bars ya' know? just like a good time is all. Glad to hear you had fun though. Didn't I tell ya' you'd have a good time hangin' with me, right?"

You nodded as you walked and he smoked. He wanted to make sure got to your room safe and in one piece, he'd made a joke about boogeymen and you briefly thought maybe he was one of them. He seemed to know everyone in this town saluting the doorman and the blonde woman at the front desk as you went into the little lobby, you took the elevator up. 

You could feel him looking at you but whenever you'd look back he'd look away, always with a smirk like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

Playful. 

He didn't seem like the big bad wolf those girls had painted him out to be, confident sure, strong and charismatic but that didn't necessarily mean he was a bad man though, right? Maybe they were upset he'd broken their hearts and scolded you to stay away from him.

You stopped outside your room, keycard in hand and heat snaked its way up your spine.

"Are ya' gonna' invite me in?"

You swallowed at looked at him, his pouty lips held a small smile.

"Do you want to?"

"That's not what I asked is it? I asked if you wan' me to, not the o'her way around." Dympna leaned against the wall next to you.

"Sure."

You probably let the devil in, invited the vampire that would lure you to our fate but you didn't feel uncomfortable with him in fact it was the opposite and that's what scared you the most. You felt safe with him.

Followed you in as you went around and turned the lights, illuminating your hard tack case that held your equipment, different chargers and chords littered the floor as well as your still open laptop on the plush bed. He walked around the spacious room with it's tawny drawn curtains and high ceilings. 

He kept his hands in his pockets. "You wanna show me some of your work?" 

"Oh!" you nearly fell over while taking off your shoes by the door, you lost a sock along the way but you would worry about that later. "Yeah sure." 

You unplugged the device and logged in, pulling up a few folders. He sat next to you on the edge of your unmade bed with a bounce, his jacket creaking when it touched yours. You handed it to him. He scrolled through snapshots of cities and towns, a few villages and portraits of people you shot around the world. Places he had only half heard of in books and some he had no idea about let alone how to pronounce their names. He claimed it with was the placement of his tongue as his excuse but you laughed it off, it was probably the booze you thought.

"Have you traveled anywhere?" You asked as he pulled up a familiar landscape to the man.

Dympna shook his head. "Who me? oh no no, never left Ireland. I don' think I could live anywhere else. I've got me family, friends, mountains and a beach," he shrugged and scrolled through a few more pointing out that he enjoyed your work, when he came across the handful of stills of himself pressed up against his car the diner he pointed at himself joking that that was your best work. "What about you then? You got mountains where you're from?"

You shook your head. "The States have plenty of them, desert's, canyons, the coast! Where I'm from we have an abundance of lakes and trees. It's the best in the fall though," you gushed closing your eyes you could picture the radiant foliage. "Lipstick red, sunset orange, banana peel yellows all mixed together at once. I love watching them change."

Dympna smiled at your fondness giving you your workspace back. "Sounds lovely. I think I'd like to see that someday."

"You should! I think you'd like it. Of course you'll need a passport and accommodations-"

"You mean I can't stay with you?" He bumped into your shoulder twice with a laugh, ever the jokester you were coming to realize along with his cheeky sense of humor. You laughed to yourself that he was too charismatic for his own good which would often lead to trouble and according to those women tonight that's what he and his family was.

"Sure if you want, I've got room." That was definitely the booze talking, your face felt warm again as you blinked at set down the computer behind you on the bed. "Good to know." 

You felt him looking at you, out of the corner of your eye you could just make him out without feeling too dizzy. You turned to him but he quickly stood and bit his lip as if he had something to say, he opened his mouth and closed it a few times before spinning on his heel. "I think we should exchange numbers you know, jus' in case you feel like checkin' out some spots. I'll take you."

"You'd be my chauffer? what a gentlemen." You took your phone out of your back pocket.

"O' course I am! what do you take me for some kinda' heathen," he did the same and you swapped phones, you thought of punching in your name but decided on his nickname for you. You passed it back, "There now we're square. I had fun tonight but... it's gettin' late," you hadn't realized the hour was pushing near three in the morning until you looked at your lock screen. "You give me a call yeah? we'll do somethin' fun."

You nodded and followed him to the door, "Sure. Let me know."

"Will do." Dympna stepped out into the hallway and pretended to tip an imaginary hat. You thought you felt dizzy before but when he chucked you lightly under the chin and bid you good night, you felt like you were completely spiraling.

This was bad fucking news.

[mayraki]

don’t mess with the troublemakers’ tik toks

i call this one: max and sam when they’re old. jj is in the other room playing cards with pope, john b and kie. wine became their favorite drink, and the night were they all hang out usually ends with sam and max doing weird shit, just like the old days.

@iamaunicorn4704 @onceinagenerationrage @k-k0129 @x-lulu @oopsiedoopsie23 @roamingmarauder @ponyboys-sunsets @agirlwholovescoffee @deviouscharitos @badbitsh13 @cilorawr @ilovejjmaybank @corebore123 @starksweasley @allycat449-blog @netflix-imagines @alwaysasadaesthetic @queenofthepouges @sexytholland @sadcupofcoffee @allielozoya @jjandreidsgirl @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @nevvvv @outerbanksbro @itsyagirljay @kay667 @casper17 @jarahisendgame @niya-savage @scooby6 @dustyjjumpwings @sweetlysilent @stilinskingongo @renatafairchild @stfukie @chasefreakinstokes @beloved-vinyl-addict @acvross-the-universe @ifilwtmfc @talksoprettyjjx @dannii-li @marvel-ousnesss @thegreatestofheck @loveperri @justsomerandompersonintheworld (+)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn It Down 5- Speak In Riddles [Ivar x Reader]

A.N.: Hello my loves! I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! Your messages and comments and feedback make my day, please keep them coming! <3

Summary: “Your heart screams, does it not, Ivar?”

Characters: Ivar x Reader, Ubbe, Bjorn, Hvitserk.

Warnings: Explicit language and depictions of violence.

Word Count: 1630

You should have known it was coming.

It happened every single time, really. When you used your powers too much, when you forced yourself to get visions about the future, and-

When you used it for your own benefit.

You had tried so, so hard to get into Ivar’s dreams that the next morning you woke up with a scream of agony, only to find that it had come from your lips. You felt as if you could throw up and you curled up into a ball, your whole body spasming due to the splitting headache you had. You couldn’t even open your eyes, instead you buried your head into the pillow as you heard the voices outside, and then footsteps came closer.

You had gotten used to recognizing the sound of his crutch.

“What is happening here?” his voice reached your ears and you raised your hand, still trying your hardest not to throw up. The metallic scent reached your nose and you shut your eyes tighter, a small sob escaping from your throat.

“Ivar, let’s get out.” You heard Hvitserk’s voice and Ivar scoffed.

“You leave if you want.”

“Maybe she’s cursed as well. Maybe it turned back on her.”

“No,” you managed to croak out through the pain, “I will curse you as well if you keep talking though.”

That seemed to make Ivar chuckle “There you are little witch,” he said, “You know what, yes. You should curse Hvitserk too.”

“Ivar!”

“What? We’re brothers, if I’m cursed, it’s only fair you are too.”

“You should stop trying to be funny.”

“It’s not that bad, Hvitserk.”

“Ivar, I swear if you-“ Hvitserk started, but both of them stopped talking as soon as you raised your head from the pillow and turned to them. Ivar’s grin was wiped off his face in a second and Hvitserk stepped back, his eyes widening.

You wiped the blood off your nose, glaring at them.

“Out,” you managed to say, and Hvitserk left the tent without saying anything, but Ivar had the complete opposite reaction. He approached the bed as you closed your eyes again, now turning to press your hands on them.

“Out, I said.” You muttered, but even you could tell how just not intimidating you sounded.  Ivar’s small scoff was a proof to that anyway, and you lowered your hands to wipe at your nose.

“You look like you climbed up from your grave or nearing there.”

“You are very gentle with words as always, Ivar.”

“Do you wish me to lie?”

“I wish you not to comment on this.” You croaked out and opened your eyes to see Ivar raise his brows.

“You were screaming.”

You opened your mouth but when another wave of blinding pain hit you, you cried out, curling up into a ball again. That got him silent and you could feel his hesitation before you felt a small pat on your upper arm, as if-

“Ivar, what are you doing?” you asked through your teeth and he pulled his hand back immediately, then cleared his throat, making you open your eyes to look at him.

“Well, when will it be over?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When will it be over?” he repeated, then stole a look at you, “We will go back to Kattegat, we cannot wait for long.”

You gritted your teeth, “If you leave without me, your ships will sink. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Even while you’re sick, you’re still as sweet as poison.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet,” you said through clenched teeth and “If you dare abandon-“

“Yes yes, I would be cursed for my whole life, what do you need?” his voice was almost bored and you frowned slightly,

“What?”

“How does this go away?” he motioned at you and you sniffled,

“I… I shouldn’t cast any spells. Or look into the future, for a while.” You took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, “But if you left, I still would-“

“I memorized it, don’t worry.” Ivar said, “Consider me threatened.”

You rubbed at your eyes, the headache making you wince, “You won’t leave then?”

He raised his brows, a boyish smirk crossing his lips, “Do you not want me to leave?”

You swallowed thickly, then held your chin up, “I suppose you could stay and make sure I’m not attacked.”

“No one would dare to attack you, little witch, you’re under my protection.”

“You still have enemies within your camp,” you managed to grit out, but then the sudden attack of pain made you cry out loud, burying your face into the pillow, desperate to make the stars flashing in front of your eyes go away.

“I know, they still wouldn’t dare touch you,” he thought for a moment, “Perhaps not completely for my fury, but yours as well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Angering a witch is not smart,” he stated as you wiped your eyes, sniffling again.

“Ivar, I think I angered the fates.” Your confession left your lips in a whisper and he tilted his head.

“I thought-“

“I’m a servant to the three fates,” you said, “Does not mean they approved of my actions lately. Apparently they don’t.”

“Do you talk to them?”

“You don’t talk to the three fates,” you said, “Unless they want you to.”

A silence fell upon you, and you managed to open your eyes again when the pain slowly retreated.

“Why are you here?” you asked him, and he shrugged,

“I’m keeping guard so that no one will attack, like you said.”

“You could do that outside as well,” you told him, “Why are you here, really?”

He looked almost taken aback, before he pulled himself together, averting his gaze from you, “This is my camp. I do not have to answer any of your questions.”

You pulled your brows together, then smiled slightly, despite the pain.

“Your heart screams, does it not, Ivar?”

His frown deepened and he shifted in his seat, apparently not comfortable with any talk concerning his heart,

“What makes you think I have a heart?” he asked defensively, “You Christians call us heartless, no? We have no souls, I heard your people say that.”

“You have a soul. And a heart, I’m afraid.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” you said slowly, “Your heart and your soul, in my visions. I told you, no one but me will hold your heart.”

“So you claim.”

“You’re free not to believe me.” You muttered, “But one night, Ivar- one night, your heart’s screams will deafen you. That’ll be the night your soul will shatter, and only I hold the power to put it back.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“Allow me to simplify then,” you said, “You will fall in love with me, and there will come a night where you can’t deny it.”

He looked almost frozen, and you shrugged slightly,

“Future is….fickle. But that, I’m sure of.”

He stared at you for a moment, as if he had no idea what to say, and then swallowed thickly and grabbed his crutch.

“I will stand guard outside,” he managed to murmur and left your tent in a haste, as the headache came back and you groaned in pain, burying your head into the pillow once more.

                                                                 ***

It took you almost a day. A day of terrible headache and blood pouring out of your nose, but when the night fell, you felt considerably better. Your head still felt sensitive, but at least you could now stand up and leave your tent. When you stepped outside, there were three men waiting by the entrance, all heavily armed and you walked past them to approach the men sitting by the fire. Bjorn looked over his shoulder as Hvitserk and two other men left the bonfire, as soon as they saw you approaching.

You sat beside Bjorn, the warmth of the fire caressing your face.

“Does Ivar know you feel better?”

“I’m guessing your brother will tell him that.” You nodded at Hvitserk who was entering Ivar’s tent, “He doesn’t like me much, does he?”

“He still thinks you can put a spell on him.”

“I will not.”

“Something tells me he might not trust you on that.” Bjorn said, then offered you the bowl of food, but you shook your head.

“Is it true that you told Ivar he would fall in love with you?”

“He will.”

Bjorn chuckled, muttering something in his language under his breath, “It was in one of your visions?”

“You could at least pretend to believe me,” you said sharply, and he tilted his head, his eyes fixed on you.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“Will you fall in love with him too?”

You pressed your lips together, keeping your eyes on the fire, “I’m not allowed to see that,” you said, “I- I don’t think I know how to love.”

“Well, then you have something in common with my brother after all.”

“No, when I love someone-“ you could feel the goosebumps rising on your skin and you shook your head, “I… Have you ever been in love then?”

“I have.”

“How does it feel, really?” you asked slowly and Bjorn frowned for a moment, then shrugged slightly.

“It’s as if-“ he hesitated for a moment, “As if you are under a spell. Stay away from it if you can, especially with Ivar.”

“Why?”

“Ivar is the last person who should have any power over your heart,” Bjorn said, “Trust me. You go down that road, even your magic can’t pull you out.”

You could feel the small shiver running down your spine, but you turned your head to stare at Ivar’s tent, then nodded slowly.

“Yes,” you managed to say, “I know. Magic can’t pull me out of everything, can it?”

                                                           ***

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[dontshootmespence]

Through the Pages

Chapter 22

Nearly a month had passed since Spencer bought Eleise’s engagement ring and he’d spent just as long wondering when would be the right time to propose. Nights were spent tossing and turning. Days were spent at his desk staring at screens and papers with thoughts of far away. Every waking moment (and even some dreams) were spent trying to find a way to ensure Eleise would be able to return to her world whenever she wanted. Everyone they loved, minus Spencer’s mother, knew the circumstances of their relationship -  of the door that separated their worlds and the possibility of it turning to dust once and for all – but no one had any answers.

After a number of conversations about where they would go and why, the pros and cons of each side, Eleise decided that upon their marriage she would move to his time. No matter how much she loved Spencer, and she did, with every fiber of her being, the thought of never seeing her parents again weighed heavily on her mind, and Spencer knew it. 

As he paced the wooden floors of his apartment flipping the ring box around in his pocket, he took note of the time. Eleise would be at work, as would Alfred, but he wanted to ask her father for his permission to marry his daughter and he couldn’t do that with Eleise in the house. Asking her parents for their blessing wouldn’t be easy; they knew what was at stake, but he wanted to marry her, raise a family and no matter when he asked the possibility of the door vanishing would remain. They’d already met and fallen in love under impossible odds so it didn’t matter what came their way, right? They would be able to weather the storms together?

Slipping on his jacket, he picked up the book and watched the door materialize in front of him, stepping through with an overwhelming sense of purpose and yet uncertainty. Instead of taking a right out of the alley to head toward Eleise’s home and Scotland Yard, he turned left in search of Alfred’s firm, hoping that he would find the older man with a free moment or two where he could stumble over his words in asking one of the most important questions of his life.

Rarely had there been a day where he’d visited and hadn’t been greeted by rain, but today, as he strolled down the street, he saw the sun peeking out from behind a cloud, bringing a smile to his face. Maybe it was a good sign. 

Arriving at Alfred’s firm, the ring sat like a concrete block in his pocket. “Spencer, what brings you here?” He asked, clearly surprised to see his daughter’s suitor at his job once again.

“Hello,” he greeted shyly. “I actually came here because I have s-something I’d like to ask you and I can’t with Eleise in the house.”

Immediately, a range of emotions washed over Alfred, and Spencer could see it in his eyes. The Victorian man knew this day was coming, and sooner rather than later, but now that the moment had arrived, he couldn’t reconcile the tremendous sense of joy at his daughter’s near betrothal and the imminent feeling of dread that bubbled in his stomach knowing what was to come. Though he felt a bit sick to his stomach, he smiled, noting how similar Spencer looked to him when he’d asked Eleanor’s father if he could marry her. “Go ahead,” he said, smiling.

“Sir, I love Eleise with all my heart and soul. In our future I see happiness. I see a family. I see myself falling more in love with her every day, but it is important to me that I have your blessing. Mr. Griffiths, will you give me permission to ask for Eleise’s hand in marriage?” That might have been one of the most nerve-wracking moments of his life, but he felt amazing, especially when Alfred’s lips turned up into a smile.

“Promise me that you’ll love my daughter for as long as you live and you have it.” 

Spencer felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. “For as long as I live and more.”

“Do you have a ring?” Alfred asked, after a moment of silence passed between them.

Finally able to breathe again, he pulled the ring out of his pocket. For some reason he hadn’t taken a look at it when he walked through the door and was pleasantly surprised to see the ring was just as beautiful – bright platinum now a beautiful silver, two bands entwined together and a shining purple stone on top. “She will love this. It’s beautiful, Spencer.” He could his eyes start to water and cleared his throat to push away the unwanted emotion. This was a happy occasion and he wouldn’t allow his fears to dampen the excitement of the day. “One other thing,” he added. “I also ask that you go to our home and ask Eleanor as well.”

“Absolutely,” Spencer said quickly, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute. “And thank you again. I promise you that I’ll endeavor to make her happy for as long as I live.” 

With a small wave, he thanked Alfred a third time and headed out the door, practically sprinting to Eleise’s home to ask Eleanor’s permission as well. Like her husband, she was surprised to see Spencer without Eleise, but after a moment’s thought she knew why. “Do you want to marry my daughter, Spencer Reid?”

He gently nodded. “How did you know?”

“Alfred looked the same way when he asked my father. Don’t tell Alfred, but I’d been spying on him at the time so I knew it was coming.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he laughed. “Yes. I want to marry Eleise. I want to love her until the day I die.”

“Have you already asked Alfred?”

“Yes. He gave his permission and asked that I come here as well.”

Eleanor chuckled softly at her husband’s gentlemanly nature. Many friends of hers had husbands that never asked their decisions on anything, but Alfred was one of a kind – like Spencer. “Do right by my daughter and you have my permission as well.”

A tear fell down Spencer’s cheek when he thanked her profusely, proudly showing her the ring he’d picked. Like the man, the ring had a mother’s approval. “May I ask a favor?” Spencer wondered aloud.

“Yes, of course.”

“There is a place nearby where I would like to propose to Eleise – the large pond near the church, surrounded by trees. With the leaves changing color, I believe it would be the perfect place, but I don’t want to put her at risk for social ridicule. With you there, observing, she would still appear the chaste Victorian woman she is.”

Eleanor smiled. It was a proposal befitting of her daughter. “What time?”

                                                           ------

At quarter past six that evening, Spencer paced the ground near the church, a mirror image of the small clearing of trees and the sunset reflecting in the water nearby. He’d been there for nearly an hour even though he’d told Eleanor exactly what time to be here. He just had no idea what to do with himself. He couldn’t sit still. Finally, the moment arrived when Eleise and her parents walked toward the church, the younger woman none the wiser in regards to being brought her at such an odd time.

“Spencer!” She caught his eye and had to keep herself from running toward him, still wanting to uphold the perfect Victorian image for the sake of her parents. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you something,” he started, glancing toward where Alfred and Eleanor stood about 100 feet away. “When we first met, I knew there was something drawing me to you. I didn’t know what it was, but I would be in my apartment and I wouldn’t be able to get you off my mind. Then I knew why. I love you. When you’re not around, my eyes search for you. I hear the sweetness of your voice linger in my ears. As a man of science, I’ve always wanted to know what came next. I needed the answers. I don’t anymore. I know that we’ll laugh together and we’ll cry together. I know we’ll face good times and bad, but I want that all with you. Every beat of my heart says I love you and if you will let me I will spend the rest of life showing you just how much. Eleise…will you marry me?”

Whenever Spencer had imagined this moment, he assumed he’d stumble over his words, but no message had ever been more clear. Eleise’s eyes glazed over with tears. “Yes, Spencer. I will!”

Glancing around, she saw her parents tear-stained cheeks, but no one else and jumped into Spencer’s arms, the wind flowing through her hair as he twirled and set her down near the lake, lips meeting in a chaste kiss full of future possibility as the sun set on the horizon.

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