#Christ on a CRUTCH why am I hurting

[jelly-fish-wishes]

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Always On My Mind - Steve Harrington

A/N: omg! I have no idea how this happened 😊 I finally got this out and I really, really hope you like it as much as the first one! thank you so much for all the love (and for the patience!)

Warnings: reader is hurt (like badly hurt) but it's only mentioned at the beginning, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything. also, this is a sequel to You Keep Me Hanging On so I would advise you read that one first (link at the bottom)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things :) gif isn’t mine :D  

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Always On My Mind

If I made you feel second-best I'm so sorry I was blind You were always on my mind You were always on my mind

You were trying extremely hard to focus. It was over. You had made it. You were back at Hawkins and you made it to the hospital. Max was hurt. And so was Eddie. Although his injury wasn’t as bad because you ran out to help him. You saw the nurses take Max one way and Eddie the other way. You turned around and saw Robin comforting Erica and making sure they would check her as well since that idiot Andy basically attacked her. And on the other side, you saw Steve. He was trying his best to calm Lucas and Dustin down. You blinked a few times and you tried to make your way to them but…

“You’re bleeding!” you heard Nancy’s voice next to you. You opened your mouth to say something but blood came out. “Oh my God!” Nancy grabbed you when you were about to hit the floor. “STEVE!”

You tried to stay up with Nancy’s help and you saw Steve, Dustin, and Lucas look your way. Steve felt his heart drop the second he saw you. You had blood on your stomach and you were trying to hold yourself up. You heard him screaming your name as he ran over to you, to help you keep you up.

“Sweetheart, look at me!” he said, placing his hand on your cheek while you heard Dustin and Lucas screaming for someone to help them. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? I asked you if you were hurt!” he said with a few tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I’m s-sorry” you before your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you almost collapsed on the floor but Steve quickly held you, screaming for a doctor to help as you passed out in his arms.

“HELP!”

Steve jumped awake on his bed and felt he was sweating cold. He placed his hand on his chest and he could feel his heart beating incredibly fast. He sat down on the bed and grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand to calm himself down.

It had been a few weeks after they came back from the UpsideDown. Max was still at the hospital, and you and Eddie had been staying with him. Mostly because Eddie was still kind of lying low since a lot of people still thought he was a murderer. And you, because your parents were out of town with his parents and cared about just as much that their daughter was in the hospital. He ran a hand through his hair and got out of his parents’ bed. He walked over to his room where you were staying and silently opened the door, sighing in relief when he saw you peacefully asleep. He closed the door and walked downstairs to the kitchen, where he found his other guest.

“Munson-”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie jumped a little, turning around to see Steve. “You scared the shit out of me, man” he said, placing his hand on his chest as he held his crutch on his right hand.

“Um, what are you doing?” Steve asked confused.

“Well… I was just… a bit hungry” Eddie explained.

“Are you high?”

“Uh… would you be upset if I was?”

“No” Steve shrugged.

“Then yes, I am very much high, Harrington” he smiled politely at him. “You want some?” he asked, pointing at the joint on the counter.

“You know what? Yes” Steve said, grabbing it and taking a hit.

“Alright, now it’s a party” Eddie chuckled when Steve coughed a little. “You okay there, man?”

“Yeah, it’s just… been a while” he said. “Let me grab those for you” he said, walking over to the cabinet where Eddie was trying to reach for the chips.

“Thanks” Eddie said grabbing something to drink too and the brownies you had made earlier before the two of them walked to the living room. “So, what’s up?”

“What?” Steve asked, confused.

“Why can’t you sleep? Did you have another nightmare?”

“Yeah” Steve said, drinking his soda. “You?”

“Yep” Eddie said, grabbing the chips. “Those fucking bats really made a number on my leg man” he said, looking at the cast on his right foot. “You know… I may have not made it if it wasn’t for her, right?” Steve silently nodded. After you were taken by the doctor, Dustin confessed that you had gone out to help Eddie and the bats attacked you instead but you kept insisting he had it worse. “Was your nightmare about her?”

He had never talked about that moment after it happened. He had been glued to you the entire time, never leaving your side and taking care of your every need. He didn’t speak while you were out, which was about a day. And when you woke up, he yelled at you. He was so angry for you running out to help Eddie and he told you how reckless and careless you were. The two of you hadn’t spoken since, except for Steve letting you know you’ll be staying with him and asking every now and then if you needed anything.

“She fainted in my arms, man” Steve said. “There was blood coming out of her mouth and… her body and…” he closed his eyes. “I thought she was dead” he said, with his voice breaking a little. “I didn’t notice” he continued. “When we got to you and Dustin, she just said to help you and that you were bleeding horribly and that we needed to bring you back and then Max was even worse and…” he sighed. “And I didn’t see she was in pain” he said, sitting back. “How could I have been so stupid? And then when she wakes up instead of being glad that she’s gonna be okay I yelled at her!”

“Yeah, that was probably not your best move” Eddie chuckled as Steve placed his hands over his face and rested his elbows on his legs.

“She probably hates me now and I wouldn’t blame her” he said, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Seriously? You have to be dumber than I thought, Harrington” Eddie laughed. “She doesn’t hate you” he insisted and Steve looked at him. “Do you honestly think she’ll still be here if she hated you?”

“Well she’s hurt and-”

“And she doesn’t give a fuck about that. You and I know her well enough to know that she does whatever she wants. I told her to stay back and she didn’t listen to me. You told us to stay on the boat when we were at the lake and she didn’t care. Do you think she would stay here just because you told her to? She could go to Wheeler’s or Robin’s-”

“Maybe it’s because you’re here too. She’s worried about you-”

“Yeah, because that’s who she is. She would rather help get me and Max to the hospital before saying she was hurt too. Trust me, Harrington, that means nothing, man” he said, taking another puff of the joint.

“Well, since you seem to know so much and I don’t, why don’t you enlighten me, Munson, and tell me why you think she’s here” Steve glared at him a little.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, letting the smoke out. “Because of you” he simply said.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Well, maybe, and I’m just thinking out loud here, she was waiting for you to tell her that you love her back?” he said, making Steve choke on the soda he was drinking.

“H-how do you-?”

“Know about that? She’s my friend, man. Unlike you, I didn’t yell at her and told her she was stupid for doing what she did. I thanked her for helping me and we talk all the time” he explained. “Unlike you, who has been avoiding her like the plague” he laughed.

“I have not!”

“Seriously, dude? Other than, ‘Do you need anything?’ and ‘Are you hungry?’ you’ve barely spoken to her” he explained.

“I was… trying to give her some space” Steve tried to reason with him.

“She doesn’t want space, man! God, you are so stupid!” he said, getting closer to him and hitting the back of his head.

“Ouch!”

“Snap out of it, man! I mean it! We went over this I told you when we were on the UpsideDown. For some reason, which, believe me, for the life of me, I still do not understand, that girl loves you. She loves you, man! She told you even though she thought you still loved Wheeler, do you understand how brave that shit is? And you still haven’t told her? You’re running away dude, and, do you know who never, ever rushes into anything and instead runs away from shit?”

“Cowards” Steve said, feeling even worse.

“Exactly. And whatever I’ve called you in the past, Harrington, you are no coward. So, what the fuck is it? Are you seriously still hung up on Nancy Wheeler-?”

“No! I am not in love with Nancy, okay?” Steve snapped.

“Then what the fuck is your problem, Steve?”

“Ugh!” he grunted. “I can’t believe I’m discussing this with Eddie Munson” he sighed.

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a compliment” Eddie smirked.

“Why do you even care? Wouldn’t you want me to screw up so you can be with her?”

“Whoa, dude where did you get that idea? We’re just friends” Eddie insisted.

“Really? Because the two of you seemed really close when we were on the UpsideDown, and you said ‘If I were you, I would not take her for granted, man. 'Cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if you let her go, someone else might not be so stupid’” he said, mocking Eddie’s voice.

“Okay, now I do take offense. I don’t sound like that” Eddie glared at him. “Look, I’m not blind. She’s pretty and she has a kickass personality. If she weren’t totally hung up on you, I might even think that I may have a chance and go for it. But it’s useless. She wants you for some reason. And it’s not like I’m in love with her like you are” he shrugged.

“Stop saying that!” Steve complained.

“Why? Aren’t you?” Eddie smirked. Steve took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair again.

“Look, the last time… I said that to anyone” he started. “It just… it didn’t go well” he told Eddie. “Like at all” he said sadly. “And I guess I’m just… scared that… she’s also going to realize that she can do a lot better than me and the same thing is going to happen” he said, sadly. “Maybe that’s it. I’m not meant to be with anyone. I don’t really deserve it-”

“Alright, stop being so dramatic” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “First of all, I’m flattered that you think I’m a lot better than you” he smirked.

“I didn’t necessarily mean you-”

“And secondly, as much as you know that I hate to admit it… Dustin’s right man. You are a good dude. Trust me, I experienced first class of the asshole that was King Steve” he said, making Steve glare a little at him. “But, I don’t really see that guy anymore. I mean, you even took me in” he said. “You drive the kids every day to see Max. You drive Robin wherever she needs to go. You helped at the whole donation thing Mrs. Wheeler asked you to. You’ve come a long way, Stevie. And trust me, I’m not the only one who’s noticed” he said, making Steve smile just barely. “Stop being so hard on yourself, man. You deserve to be happy. And so does she” he told him.

“Thanks, man” Steve said, putting his drink up so Eddie would toast with him.

“Sure” he said, getting back to his seat. “Also, if you screw it up, I’m waiting a few months to make a move. Just letting you know now” he chuckled, making Steve glare at him but he laughed a little. Who would thought that King Steve and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson would have ended up being friends?

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“Hey” Steve heard your voice as you walked into the kitchen where he was making breakfast. He smiled when he saw you were wearing his yellow sweater.

“Good morning” he smiled nervously.

“Um, I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your sweater. I got cold in the middle of the night” you explained, sitting on one of the counter chairs.

“Let me help you-” Steve said, noticing your pained expression but you stopped him with your hand.

“I’ve got it” you smiled a little. “Thanks” you said. “So, where’s Eddie?” you asked, confused. He was usually up by now.

“Oh, he’s still asleep” Steve informed you and you simply nodded.

Not only were they up very late last night, Eddie said, he would give them some space so he could finally talk to you. He was exhausted but there was no way he wouldn’t be there to help you.

“You know, I had no idea you knew how to cook” you said, all of the sudden. He had been mostly ordering food for the three of you. And you had cereal or frozen waffles for breakfast, unless Eddie was in the mood to cook, who was actually not that bad.

“Um, full disclosure, I have no idea if they’re gonna be any good” he laughed nervously.

“Would you like some help?”

“No-!” he quickly said, turning to you. “Um… you should be resting. I’ve got it” he insisted. “Do you need anything?” he asked, going back to the food and cursing himself for repeating the same question he asked you all the time as Eddie pointed out.

“Um, I’m okay” you told him. “I was actually wondering if um… maybe you can take me to my house later today?” you asked, making Steve drop the spatula in his hand and he turned to look at you.

“Y-you want to go home?” he asked, feeling his heart breaking. Had he missed his chance?

“If you can’t take me is fine. Is not that far. I can probably walk-”

“No!” he said, walking over to you and grabbing your hands in his.

“No?” you asked, confused. Steve looked like he was about to cry. Or throw up. Or both. “Steve, are you okay?”

“Okay. Here it goes” he said, looking away. “I’m sorry” he blurted out. “I am so sorry about everything I did. I am the stupidest man on Earth for making you feel like you didn’t matter to me” he continued. “I am so sorry for yelling at you when you woke up. I was just so angry at myself because I didn’t notice you were hurt. And you didn’t feel like you could tell me and I am so sorry for that!”

“Steve-”

“No, please, let me finish” he interrupted you. “Look, I know that you were upset about the whole Nancy thing and you have every right to” he said. “But, I need you to know that I don’t have feelings for Nancy. Not anymore. She’s just my friend” he insisted. “And…” he sighed. “D-do you remember the first time I called you? And asked you if you could come get me and you stayed with me?”

“I remember” you nodded.

“I wanted to call Robin” he admitted and you frowned, confused. “I have no idea why but I dialed your number and… I felt really embarrassed because I didn’t want you to see me like that. But you came and… you stayed with me and… I knew then” he said in a serious tone.

“Knew what?” you asked, still confused about this whole speech.

“I knew that I was falling for you” he admitted, making your heart flutter. “I know that I was an asshole in high school and that you didn’t like me, even if we’ve known each other our whole lives. And then, I finally got the chance to actually get to know you, and… you were the best person I met. You were there when I broke up with Nancy and when Billy Hargrove beat the shit out of me. You were always there. You stayed with me after the Starcourt thing because you didn’t want me to be alone and you helped me whenever we had job interviews and… you always make me feel like I am worth something and I am so sorry if I ever made you feel otherwise because… you are the most important person in my life. And I am so sorry that I didn’t tell you this sooner” he kept going, not noticing the small smile that was forming on your face. “I’m sorry I yelled at you when you woke up. I know I already said that but… I was just so scared, I thought I had lost you and… I honestly don’t think that I could live without you in my life” he said, with a few tears running down his face.

“Steve-” you said, placing your hand on his face.

“I love you” he finally said, feeling an enormous weight being lifted off his shoulders. “I love you so much, sweetheart. And I am so sorry it took me so long to tell you I was just being a coward because…” he sighed. “You know what happened when I said that to Nancy” he said, looking down at your linked hands. “It destroyed me and… if it’s possible, I love you so much more but… I didn’t think that I was deserving enough of you so… I was running away” he said, looking back at you. “I love you so much and I am so sorry. If you’ll still have me, I would love to be with you, but… if you still want to go home, I respect that too” he said, smiling sadly.

“What? Steve, I was just asking if you could take me home to get more clothes” you explained with a sweet smile, making Steve widen his eyes.

“W-what?”

“But now that I know that you love me” you smirked a little at him and he laughed a little, throwing his head back and you saw him blush.

“Well, I don’t care. I said it. I love you” he repeated.

“I would like to jump over this counter and kiss you right now, but I’m pretty sure you would get mad and say that I’m hurt and that I shouldn't-” you were cut off by Steve walking over to you and leaning down to kiss you.

You had kissed Steve before but it wasn’t like this. Something was different. You didn’t know how it could but it was even more perfect. His arms wrapped carefully around your waist, bringing you closer.

“I love you so much” he repeated, smiling when he saw the look on your face.

“I love you too” you said before he kissed you again. “And, for the record, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was hurt” you admitted. “I didn’t think it was that bad” you told him.

“You still should have told me” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“I know” you smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry I scared you” you told him. “And that it’s making you have nightmares” you said.

“How did you-? Did Eddie tell you?”

“No” you smiled. “I know you, Steve” you said, as if it was obvious.

“How have you been sleeping?” he asked, worriedly.

“Well, if I’m being honest… I think it would be better if… maybe… you could stay with me?” you asked with a small smile. “If that’s okay?”

Steve hugged you closer to him and kissed your temple. “Whatever you want, sweetheart” he said, kissing you again.

“Not that I’m not loving this moment, but I think the food is burning” you said, making Steve let go of you instantly.

“What?”

“Are you two still figuring shit out or are you together already? I’m hungry!” you heard Eddie’s voice coming from the stairs, making you laugh.

“You can come down, Eddie” you said, as he hopped over to the kitchen with his crutches. “Although as for the food, it doesn’t look good” you said, as Steve tried to salvage what was left of the breakfast he was making.

“Aw, Stevie, you went through all this trouble for me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Munson” he said, tossing the ruined food. “So… who’s in the mood to go out to eat?”

“This is who you really wanna be with, princess?” Eddie asked you, making you laugh as Steve glared at him, and punched his arm.

“I think it’s sweet that he tried” you said, smiling at Steve.

“Thank you, love” he said, kissing you. 

The End

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[Part 1]

A/N: sooo, I really hope you loves like it, and there is a tiny chance that I might do another version where the reader chooses Eddie, but no promises! xD  

tags: @nerdygamingartist , @booksandlighters , @vilentia , @plk-18

[annisassintchaska]

bestie can I request toto with a black!femreader? he’s just so daddy😩that video of him surfing?! *debby Ryan hair tuck* got me all in my Toto feels😪

Idiot: Toto Wolff x Black!Reader

TW: Cursing, Slapping (non abusive!)

The morning had just started as the sun had risen, lighting up the bedroom that belongs to the Wolff family, Y/n and Toto. Y/n was never one to be excited about mornings as she would rather sleep through the morning and work through the evening into the night; however she knew that staying in wouldn’t get the chores and multiple emails waiting for replies done so she dragged herself up and into the bathroom for a shower.

Upon her return from getting dressed and walking around the house to collect the things she needed, Y/n noticed that her husband who should’ve been at home with her wasn’t in the house yet he left his phone on the counter in the kitchen. Dropping everything in the living room, she went out to the sides of the house, to the garden in the front and had gotten no sight of her husband, she made her way around to the back thinking that he might’ve been relaxing at the poolside or even on a conference call with the team, but dear Lord was she so wrong.

Y/n walked out to find her significant other down at the sea, surfing his heart away with the widest grin mixed with concentration on his face. She was so mad at him yet did nothing as she watched him endanger himself even worse than before as his eyes caught hers and after a couple of minutes, his surf was over and he was on his way to get cleaned up.

Returning to the house walking with his crutches, Toto wasn’t surprised when he was met in the living room by his infuriated wife who was glaring at him from across the room. “Hey schatz, did you sleep good?” He asked trying to distract her from being upset. “Yes I did in fact sleep good. Thanks for asking, but you know what didn’t feel good? The fact that my husband seems to be out to give me a fucking heart attack by doing some of the dumbest shit I’ve ever witnessed on this planet called Earth. Why the hell would you go surfing while injured?! First you went bike riding, now you’ve got a broken arm and leg-mind you this isn’t the first time! Your forearm and leg are in braces for Christ’s sake! If you fell into the water your ass wouldn’t be able to fucking swim! What is wrong with you?! Why do you keep trying to kill me before my time?! I’m way much younger than you but it seems you want me to leave this world before you, huh?!” Y/n scolded her husband as she spanked him on his good arm with her hands.

“Schatz I’m sorry. I really didn’t think your mind would go that far, I thought of it as a harmless morning surf” Toto explained but it fell on deaf ears to his wife who noticed him wincing everyone he moved an injured body part but chose to keep silent. “You see, this is why women live longer than men cause y’all just jump into anything without weighing the pro and cons. You literally have surgery in a few weeks and it’s like you want to make your injuries worse than better so guess what, maybe I’ll call and have them cancel the surgeries, yeah?” Y/n replied sarcastically as he sat down on the couch to rest while Y/n went to start the laundry.

An hour and a half later, Y/n was sat on one end of the couch with her laptop in hand typing away, while Toto sat at the other end obviously now feeling the painful effect of his stupidity from earlier. “Y/n/n my leg hurts!” He whined as Y/n only looked at him briefly before shaking her head and refocusing on her task. “Y/n I know you heard me, please help me. My arm and my leg are hurting! The pain sticks!” He cries this time as tears poured from his eyes, showing that he very well regretted his past decision.

“I’m sorry Mr.I can do anything no matter my condition, I am unable to assist at this time as I’m on my lunch break” Y/n sassed at him. She allowed him to wallow in regret for a couple more minutes before she got up to get his medications and the necessary items to help with the pain. “Here, take a bite of this. Swallow the pills, then you finish eating it.” Y/n instructed as she iced and elevated her husband’s swelling leg. Toto did as instructed and rested his head after everything was done while he waited for the pain to subside.

After a while the pain had been fully gone and Y/n was now resting next to him as they watched some Tom and Jerry to occupy their time. “Thank you schatz for your help, your patience, your love and your kindness. I know that I am a lot of work but you manage me so well.” Toto expressed as his wife listened calmly on the verge of sleep. “You’re welcome sweetheart. I just hope that you’ve learnt your lesson and that something like this will not happen again?” She inquired from her husband “Of course not darling, I promise to stress you a little less. I love you” he giggled out his answer “I love you too you idiot” Y/n joined his giggle in reply while peacefully falling asleep, knowing that no matter what he promised, she would still be getting regular heart attacks in the future all because of her love for him.

[mynameisjessejk]

The Family

I have no excuse by this point.

Elrond had been out of the game for six years. He had never even considered going back in, never looked back from his private practice and his quiet life and his lovely absence of physical injuries.

He could feel the itch to find his knives, though, as he watched Elrohir put stitches in Elladan's eyebrow.

Elladan was fine, was the thing. He'd had worse in his years in the underground fight circuit than he was currently suffering. The young Wainrider who'd gotten in a lucky shot hadn't even given him a concussion.

It was just the first time Elrond had seen Elladan hurt, instead of just hearing the report second-hand from Elrohir.

"Good news," Celebrian announced, breezing through the kitchen to the laundry to put the cleaning supplies away. "We got the blood out of the upholstery." Paenvellon trailed her, still looking awkwardly unsure of his place in the household.

Elrond smiled encouragingly at the younger man. That Paenvellon had no ambitions beyond his small dockside empire made Elrond feel better about letting the young smuggler into the normal life he and Celebrian had carved out in Ereinion's absence. For all that he was as brutal as he needed to be and as unscrupulous as anyone in the business, Paen was also as good as it was possible to be in their lives.

Numenorean grains had a higher protein content than anything grown on the continent, and without the upcharge from the import tariffs, a poor family could feed themselves better for longer on the same amount of coin.

"Oh thank god," Elrohir said dryly in answer to Celebrian, breaking Elrond out of his contemplation. Probably for the best, as Paen was starting to fidget under Elrond's blank stare. Elrond smiled gently at him, and his shoulders eased.

"I am so sorry my bleeding headwound is such a great inconvenience to you," Elladan retorted to his brother.

Elrohir, now washing his hands at the sink, stitches complete, blew a raspberry at him. "I get enough blood at work. You don't compensate me adequately to deal with it at home."

"Elladan can't afford your rates," Erestor said dryly, sweeping across the kitchen to put the bags of carryout down by the stove. "You have another appointment with Mrs. S-B tomorrow at nine," he added to Elrond. "She called four minutes to close because her arthritis has flared up again and she's finally willing to consider pain management."

"Thank Christ," Elrond grumbled. "And you." He was always grateful for his Physician Assistant's particular expertise, but never more than on the paperwork side of their practice.

Erestor flashed a grin. "I am exceedingly efficient, yes."

"And you look good in your scrubs," Glorfindel agreed, swinging in behind him on his crutches. Erestor's security consultant husband was perhaps the only upstanding citizen in the family.

Elrond honed in on him. "Crutches," he observed.

"New PT' today," Glorfindel reported. "Stump's sore, but in a good way."

"Oh good," Elrohir said. "She worked out, then?"

"So much better than my last PT," Glorfindel agreed. "Didn't work me till I had a raw spot from the prosthetic, for one."

Elrohir and Elrond made the same annoyed growl.

Glorfindel grinned at them both. "Which is why I now see Eithadis and not that asshole," he said brightly.

Elrond nodded and went to help Celebrian with plates and silverware.

"What'd you bring us?" Elladan asked.

"Pasta bake from the place down from the clinic," Glorfindel said.

"Belladona's," Erestor said, starting to move things into the dining room.

Glorfindel pointed at him.

Legolas relieved Celebrian of the pile of plates and followed Elrond. Alone in the dining room before the rest of the family joined them, he said, sotto voce, "It's taken care of."

Elrond nodded. He trusted Paenvellon not to bring trouble to his doorstep, if only for Elrohir's sake. When Elrohir had gone to paramedic school instead of joining the family business, Elrond and Celebrian had sworn their lives wouldn't interfere in Elrohir's happiness.

Elladan, of course, couldn't and wouldn't be separated from his twin, and Elrohir wouldn't have wanted that either. That Elladan had brought Paenvellon into Elrohir's life had come as a surprise, but Paenvellon was as meticulous at keeping his work separate from Elrohir as Elrond had been.

"You'd tell me, if it was Sauron?" Elrond asked back, just as soft.

"Anything to drink, Las-dear?" Celebrian called.

"Just water for me," Legolas called back, holding Elrond's eyes. "I think I'm driving home." He nodded firmly at Elrond, face unusually serious. He'd been the only one of the younglings—and Elrond absolutely counted the young Galadh brothers who were Elladan's best backup in that collection—actually present when the bloody war between the Red Eyes, the Lorinand Cartel, and the Spears had ended explosively, so he knew what it would mean to Elrond, if Sauron were after his son.

"I gave Adan a painkiller," Elrohir agreed, coming into the dining room with the serving platter of pasta. "And I intend to have so much wine with dinner."

And Paenvellon, of course, had a real actual legal boating license, but could not drive a car.

Legolas smiled at Rohir. "So I will drive," he said again.

Elladan trailed his brother into the dining room, carrying two glasses of water. He let Legolas scoot his chair in for him, and Legolas dropped a kiss on the top of his head before taking his own seat.

Celebrian, Glorfindel, and Paenvellon followed with a salad bowl and the appropriate smaller plates, and Erestor came in last with a cake.

Elrond rolled his eyes.

"Surprise," Erestor said dryly.

Elrond blew a raspberry at his PA. "I said no party."

"No party," Celebrian said warmly. "Just dinner." To be fair, this was positively restrained compared to the galas she'd attended on her father's arm, in the early days of their marriage, when Celeborn had still been in poitics, before Galadriel had turned witness for the DEA, when she had still been a famous starlet and infamous thief (though never at the same time), before their world had come crashing down in a hail of fire and bullets.

Elrond nodded. "Dinner is acceptable."

"And cake," Erestor said firmly, waving it at him before setting it on the sideboard.

Elrond said false-grudgingly, "And cake."

"How do you not like cake?" Glorfindel asked, pouting.

"He likes cake fine," Celebrian said wryly. "It's birthdays he hates."

Elrond shrugged. "Getting older's the pits," he said flatly.

"Beats the alternative," Glorfindel answered.

Elrond, still thinking about Ereinion as he had been all evening, couldn't help but agree.

[creoterative]

I don't have the slightest idea, what it is about this game.

But Telltale Games managed to bring a form of atmosphere to life, that gives me the chills, every single time I see certain things in the game. And it's so different for each scene, in which this happens.

But what's the best about this game, is that it brings me to show emotions. There are very few games, that can actually manage to bring me to tears or laugh at the top of my lungs, and this is one of it.

The fact, that this game can compete with Undertale, Red Dead Redemption and Half Life, at least on my personal list of 'Best Games I ever played', is incredible.

I've played a lot of different video games in my not-so-long-life now, from a very young age on.

Pokémon, Wolfenstein, Metal Gear, Sonic the Hedgehog, Far Cry, you name it, I've probably played or at least seen it.

And yeah, there are only so many games, that brought me to the verge of tears. This one here even managed it three different times in a row.

When Lee died.

When Kenny wanted to leave us in front of that gate.

And at the end of Season Four.

That's a new record. I mean, yeah, I tend to get emotional in the scenes, where the developers want us to get emotional, but it's not like I cry every time a bunny dies in a game.

As I mentioned, there are scenes, where the emotion isn't even sadness, but... something else and I can't quite describe it, but I like it.

When Minnie starts singing on that bridge, I swear, I had goosebumps and was thrilled to fight her (especially because the frikin' bow said 'One last fight' to me right before that and I hated it). I fucking screamed when I lost that bow.

That look Marlon has in his eyes, when we call him pathetic? Gets me every time. I even talked about it to my best friend, the fact that a pair of eyes can make me feel so weird, like I just destroyed a whole life, it's... I dunno, the impact is there and I can clearly see it. My actions have consequences. And I get a physical effect, because my stomach hurts every time I pick that option (and I'm sorry for every single time, Marlon).

The moment we let go of Ben in the belltower? Jesus. I am broken afterwards. The first time I played this game, I was so desperate when I let go of him. I couldn't even move.

I gotta admit, I only played Lee's death scene one time in my entire life. And the reason why is that I know I'm gonna cry again. Somehow the scene that makes me cry even more though, is when Kenny almost leaves us at that gate with AJ. I swear... that scenes is probably one of the most emotional ones I ever saw in video games and I kid you not, I was crying for five minutes after I finished that season.

Luke in the ice? That was a what the fuck moment, yes. But for me personally, the look he gives us when we decide to sit with Kenny instead of him is even worse. I dunno what it is, but for real, I can't deal with hurting people emotionally. Not in video games, not in real life.

And then there is this scene with the cannibals. Everybody's dead, we fight the last of the brothers and he yells at us to come back and finish the business. I decided to kill him the first time, because my sister and I were very pumped up and pissed, but when I replayed it with one of my best friends, he decided to let him stay alive, which was... worse. That soundtrack 'Bitter Revenge' that plays in the background, seeing all these walkers rush in there, his mother crawling out of the house... Christ, that was horrible. I think we were really quiet for a few seconds after that, just taking in that scene, while trying to process it.

Last but not least. The end. The fucking light. The fucking leaves that fall to the ground. Clementine coming in on her crutches. I can't. I just love it. When the camera goes over all the people we lost in the last season, Marlon, Brody, Mitch, Tenn/Violet/Louis, I get the same feeling I got when Snake killed The Boss and the flowers turned red. It's just so final. They won't come back, ever, but somehow, in a way, they had such an impact on the story, that they kinda carry this whole thing with this one shot of the graves. I... forgive me, I have no idea how to talk xD

Of course, there are a lot more of these scenes, I just wanted to name a few that came to my mind right now. This game is amazing in any way.

I don't care that sometimes Lee spins around like a beyblade. I don't care, that Marlon looks like a puppet on strings in that confrontation scene. I don't give two shits about how Louis dreadlocks move, if they even move at all.

This game is a masterpiece, because it affected me emotionally like no other game before, except Red Dead Redemption, and maybe Metal Gear Solid 3, but considering the fact, that both of these games are WAY bigger than TWDG and had a lot more people with a WAY bigger budget behind them, TWDG is still one of the best.

.....

.....

And for fucks sake, Telltale Games gave me wide neck T-Shirt Marlon in Road to Survival, so my thirsty self is content as well.

Just joking. I'm not that desperate.

No, wait, I am.

I'm so looking forward to the frikin holidays. Imma draw a lot. And write a lot. And possibly cry a lot.

[newtonsheffield]

Seeing Kate snap about there being “no routine surgery” made me realise just how demented Kate’s going to be when Anthony has no choice but to her gets his knee(s) done.

Never mind his wife is the best doctor in the league to help him recover after and then his sister in law is an amazing physio to make sure he’s back on his feet and you know Anthony is going to have made sure he has the best doctors available.

But poor Kate is going to be an absolute mess on her family and Sophie when he’s down in surgery. Staking the corridors of the hospital for news and then desperate to get him back on his feet.

Then afterwards I can just see Anthony driving her up the wall because Sophie told him to rest and he’s not a very good patient at the best of times and Kate trying to make sure he rests whilst asking Sophie is she can speed up his physio before she murders her husband…

Kate is beside herself basically the whole surgery, and she went to Scotland because she knows that Michael knows what happened with her Dad, he's the only person in the entire world that Kate trusts to look after Anthony.

"Kate, I promise you, I am going to look after Anthony to the very best of my ability okay? He'll be up and at em so quick you'll be annoyed you didn't get any rest at all." Michael had said, grinning at her after he did Anthony's round, Anthony himself distracted in the corner, delightedly blowing bubbles to Edmund who was giggling happily from Edwina's lap, Francesca looking on delightedly sent to be Violet's eyes and ears, Violet following tomorrow.

"I know. I just... worry about him."

"Geez, what happened to the Kate Sharma who was never getting married, never having kids?" Michael nudged her with his elbow, teasing just like old times.

Kate sighed, her heart hammering in her chest when Anthony grinned up at her, her finger turning that stupid big engagement ring around her finger, "Anthony... kind of took me out at the knees."

"You guys seem great together."

"We're very happy." Kate hummed.

They were silent for a very long moment before Michael said, "That girl with you guys... not Eddie um-"

Kate startled, "Francesca? She's Anthony's younger sister. A concert pianist. An excellent one."

"Can you um-" Kate watched as Francesca's eyes slid to Michael's sticking in place, her head tilted curiously, "Introduce me to Anthony's stunning sister Francesca?"

Kate sighed, kissing Michael on the cheek, "I'll tell you what, Mickey, don't kill my husband, and I'll toss in a kind word about you."

And Anthony's feeling rather chuffed with himself, when he finally goes home, resting on his sofa, season after season of Desperate Housewives queued up to watch, Until his Sister in law arrives with what looked suspiciously like a crutches.

"Alright Bridgerton, up and at em." Sophie said officiously, tugging the blanket off him.

"Ahh, I don't think so, I had two knee surgeries three days ago."

"Mmmm lucky for you, you have a loving wife that sent me here to get your arse up." She nudged at his stomach with a crutch.

"No, Soph," Anthony groaned, "They hurt, and my ice cream'll melt."

"Anthony do you want to run around after your son, teach him to play football? be fit and healthy for Kate?"

It burned in his chest, "Yes obviously, that's why I did this stupid fucking surgery."

Sophie smiled down at him, offering her hand, "Then Get. Up."

Anthony sighed, grumbling as he pulled himself to his feet, wobbling awkwardly, as he gripped the crutches. "I don't think Kate told you to be so mean."

Sophie hummed, "I have been authorised to rehab you by any means necessary."

"Christ that woman is an absolute menace to my comfort and security." Anthony hissed taking painful, tentative steps around his living room.

"Would you love her if she wasn't?"

Anthony scoffed, "Course not, that's what I love best about her."

[amarits]

“Hey, now!” Steph exclaimed, jumping between them. Jason hadn’t hit Tim very hard. Between his weakened muscles, the crutch in the way, and Tim’s decent dodge, he’d barely grazed Tim’s cheek. He felt both better and worse.

“Sorry,” he muttered, but it didn’t have much emotion behind it. He still thought Tim kind of deserved at least one punch. “But what the hell, Tim? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You didn’t exactly seem to like me as… me,” Tim said with large, meaningless gestures, “and I thought you’d like Chirp less if you knew who I was. By the time we finally started actually getting along as civilians, the whole Copycat thing happened.”

“The whole Copycat thing wouldn’t have happened if we’d known who you were!” Jason exclaimed. Steph put a finger to her lips, eyes darting nervously around, and Jason lowered his voice. “We wouldn’t have thought you were Copycat if we’d known you were—” He motioned at Tim, hands flicking towards him. “—you.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Tim said. “It seemed equally possible you’d just throw me in Arkham!”

“Don’t be stupid.” How could he even think that? Bruce would have reevaluated all his preconceptions about Chirp—clearly had reevaluated all his preconceptions about Chirp—when he found out Chirp actually was the kid he’d claimed to be.

Tim just made an offended noise. He probably hadn’t been called stupid many times in his life.

“But…” Jason hesitated, not sure he wanted to say anything, but he also couldn’t just let it go. Couldn’t go merrily on their way to fight Copycat and pretend it wasn’t a thing. “I called you for help when the Joker had me, the way you told me to, and you didn’t do anything.” It came out uglier than he meant it to, rage and hurt piling into a broken rasp. Steph’s eyes went wide and Tim looked horrified.

“What? No!” he exclaimed, forgetting to be quiet judging from the way his voice echoed through the hallway. “That’s not… Don’t… Didn’t… Why do you think…?” He snapped his mouth shut and seemed to get his words in better order before opening it again. “I got your message.” He dug his phone out of his pocket and held up its dark screen like it was supposed to show Jason something. “And I checked on you and I saw the Joker but I couldn’t talk to you because your comm was broken or missing or something but I contacted Batman and convinced him to turn around and go rescue you.” His voice sounded almost pleading, a desperation threading through the words.

Jason tried to piece together his broken memories. Had he had his comm? He’d certainly been hit in the head enough times that it might have broken even if he’d had one to start, but he thought maybe… maybe he hadn’t put it in at all. That’s why he hadn’t been able to contact Bruce.

“And… and I told the people at the refugee camp not to open the boxes since Batman hadn’t been able to go there and warn them, and I kept an eye on them to make sure they didn’t.” He licked his lips, breath coming out in shallow gasps. “And I contacted the hospital and got them to send an air ambulance to pick you up! I did everything I could.” The last bit broke off in a sob, and Jason realized with a stab that Tim didn't believe ‘everything he could’ had been enough. “I know I could have been faster,” he continued before Jason could respond, not meeting his eyes. “I… I didn’t see the message until I got out of class, and then I took too long to get to the library, but—”

“Wait, just wait,” Jason said, covering his face to block out any stimulation while he tried to think. “Nobody’s explained any of this shit to me. I need a minute.”

Tim waited. Jason could hear his tense, tight breaths while he awaited judgment.

“You got my emergency alert, and somehow convinced Batman to go rescue me,” he said slowly. “Even though Batman had never trusted you.” He peeked at Tim through his fingers, and Tim nodded. “You told him who you were.” It was the only thing that made sense. Batman wouldn’t have trusted Chirp, but he might have trusted Tim. Tim nodded again in confirmation. “So, I’m in a coma and Batman knows who you are now so you start… working together?”

“Mostly we fought,” Tim said weakly with a self-effacing smile. “A lot.” Yeah, that tracked.

“But you’re hearing rumors at school about me being Robin, so you convince him that there needs to be a decoy Robin to throw people off the trail?” Tim nodded again. Jason thought through the series of events one-by-one, making sure he understood it all, before throwing his hands up in the air. “Why didn’t anyone tell me all of this? I wouldn’t have been so mad!”

“I’m not sure?” Tim asked. “I assumed you knew. At least about me being Chirp.”

“I guess Dickface did say that I should ‘talk to you about it,’” Jason said, with the full mockery it deserved. “Idiot.” His eyes shot back to Tim. “It’s not like you’ve even been around for me to talk to. What the hell? You’re wearing my costume but you can’t even stop by to see how I’m doing or send me a get well soon text?”

“See?” Steph exclaimed. He’d almost forgotten she was there. She’d been quietly letting them have it out. “I told you.”

“I don’t know when to send texts!” Tim said, spinning frustratedly in place. “I thought it would be awkward. And… and you’d just woken up from a coma and I didn’t want to be obtrusive and—”

“Oh my God, you are such an idiot,” Jason groaned.

“I am not!” Tim whined, sounding more like a toddler throwing a tantrum than a kid genius who’d been a vigilante longer than Jason had.

Christ. That was gonna take some getting used to.

Read more on Ao3

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Crutches- Prompt Fill

cw broken bones, food, internalized ableism, dizziness, headaches

Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! I am still accepting bingo prompts! Please send me more because the starred ones are back written already! Send me a prompt and a character and let me know if you want a drawing or writing!

Navigating the London underground on crutches had been trying to say the least.  But, Jon has gotten very good at navigating it with his cane, so out of sheer spite, he managed it without incident. 

He is still clumsy on them, and by the time he reaches the university, he is more than out of breath, having to stop and use his inhaler before he can reach his classroom.  (He will not be sharing that information with Martin, no way.  He is Fine, and that would only cause worry, and Martin has enough to worry about being an EMT).  

Of course the annoying thing is that he broke his Good leg.  

Of course he manages to break his one more functional leg.  What a very Jonathan Sims thing to do.  

He sighs.  He does not want to explain this to his students.  (And he certainly doesn’t want to explain this to Tim and Sasha, but of course they are coming over for dinner.  Actually… he’s grateful that they don’t already know.  Somehow he actually managed to calm Martin down and talk him out of calling them.  Jon leaned hard into the look I’m fine!  It’s a clean break!  It hardly hurts!  It’s fine!  I’ve had much worse, please don’t fuss!  I’m still conscious and everything! Thing.)

Frankly, it’s embarrassing.  

He misses the days where he would just… heal.  

He might still.  Well, he certainly would the old fashion way, but his recovery might be faster than normal.  Physical injuries are still a little aided by his connection to the Eye, however weakened that connection might be.  Doesn’t do Shit for illnesses, but as much as his EDS causes him to bruise, the bruises don’t stick around for too long.  

Just have to wait and see.  

His students stare.  

Jon shivers.  

He tries not to think about the Institute.  He tries not to think about the prickle on the back of his neck… the feeling of eyes on him when there was no one around.  Don’t be daft, Jonathan, you can see the students right there.  You can see their eyes.  You are just their odd professor who looks even more haggard and beat up than usual.  

He Feels much more haggard than usual.  And he’s shaking from the albuterol.  

“Professor, what happened?” One of his students ask as he maneuvers the podium so he can drop his bag.  

He curses at the lack of chair in the lecture hall.  He’s asked for one.  Repeatedly.  And he’s dragged his office chair in with him before, but… he doesn’t exactly have the hands to do it.  

He has to balance on one leg to dig is computer out so he can connect it to the projector.  

“I’m fine,” he answers automatically.  He was.  He is.  Just tripped like the idiot he is, and broke his good leg.  His bad leg had been throbbing since he got on the tube.  

He ignores it.  

His students eye him with clear suspicion.  Which… Jon would have worried about if… they weren’t perfectly justified.  

They had seen him faint many times, pop his hip back in place, watched him dislocate and relocate his arm, and there was the time he had the concussion, and the time he had a migraine and had fainted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and the time when he had come to class feverish.  

These students have called Martin so many times by now.  

He deserves those cautions glances.  These kids (not really kids, but sue him, they look like kids in his eyes) are ready to call him on his bullshit.  

“I fell the other day.  I’ll be fine.  Just a broken tibia.  I’ll be fine in couple months.  Let’s get on with the lesson.”

One kid raises their hand, and Jon calls on them.  “Yes?”

“Professor Blackwood-Sims, isn’t that your good leg?”

Damn these overly observant students.  If only they payed that much attention to his lectures.  (No, that’s not fair, they are all good students.  The ones who struggle, have good reason to, and Jon has managed to get them to all come talk to him and tell him what they need to do better).  

Jon smiles tightly.  “Well… it was.  Okay, on with the lecture.”

His leg hurts.  The not broken one.  The broken one… well that hurts a little too, but not nearly as much as the one full of holes.  (They are both full of holes, but one was wormed much more thoroughly and hasn’t been the same since.)

Balancing on one leg proves difficult as he’s hit by dizziness.  He’s been standing too long.  Too long on his bad leg, and the tension and pain have given him a headache bad enough that he’s had one of his students turn off the lights.  He can’t face the light of the projector, so he gives the lecture angling away from it.  

One of his students offers to run the PowerPoint so he can sit in one of the desks as he teaches, but he turns her down.  There are only a few minutes left.  He can make it.  Then he can get home and take some painkillers and shower before Tim and Sasha come to dinner.  

He knows he can cancel, but he doesn’t want to.  He’s more dreading having explain what happened.  

He reaches the flat quickly enough.  He should have time to shower and cook.  He hopes.  

He swallows some painkillers dry (just a few so he can still take more before bed and not worry Martin by pushing the recommended doses too far) and works his way out of his work clothes while sitting on the bed.  It isn’t fun.  

He swallows his pride and uses the shower seat.  He hates it.  He hates that he needs it, yes, but honestly it’s more an issue with the textured plastic under his naked skin.  It feels… wrong.  Both because it reminds him of the circus, and because it’s just a bad texture.  It also feels gross… as in unclean.  He cleans it vigorously often, but it still doesn’t feel clean to him.  

Between the headache, and the dizziness from the hot water and several nights of poor sleep (from nightmares and trying to sleep with a cast on which gave him More nightmares), and the pain in both his legs, Jon fights back the darkness around the edges of his vision.  

He will Not pass out now.  

No.  

Will not happen.  No thank you.  No.  

He fights to keep upright and conscious.  And, surprisingly, wins that battle.  He sits on the bed again while dressing, and while braiding his hair. 

It takes him a long time.  There is a lot of hair to work with, and his scalp hurts with the intensity of his headache.  He also dallies, the more time this takes, the longer he can sit.  He should consider dragging a chair in front of the counter and a chair in front of the stove.  That could make cooking less painful.  

Well, in some ways.  

The unnatural angles are hell on his wrists when chopping.  

Lesser of two evils, however, he supposes.  

Shit.  He isn’t going to have time to finish dinner by the time Tim and Sasha arrive.  

And Martin isn’t going to be home for another hour.  He knows, he knows (not Knows, though), that they won’t mind.  Tim might even Help him cook, but… he doesn’t like being a bother.  He wants… well frankly he wants to erase the years of hurt with food (Christ, Martin has worn off on him.  Not that he minds.  He loves Martin).  

The sauce is almost done, but he hasn’t even started the pasta by the time Tim’s voice drifts through the door.  Sing-song and loud.  No knocking (thankfully).  

Jon hates that he needs the crutches to get to the door.  He hates that his vision is swimming by then too.  The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but can’t do much about the other stresses on Jon’s mortal frame.  

“Be there in a moment, or you can just let yourself in,” Jon calls back.  He has to pause and lean on the wall.  This is all very irritating.  

Apparently, Tim had already been halfway through unlocking the door, because he’s in before Jon can even finish the sentence.  

“Jesus, Jon, what did you do this time?”  Sasha exclaims, quickly, but gracefully pulling off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.  It’s less a question than a statement.  

“Hello Sasha, Tim.  Dinner isn’t quite ready, but it’s not too far away.  In the meantime there’s wine.  Martin will be here soon, but his shift isn’t over yet.”  His eyes are closed.  Head tilted back against the wall.  The room finally stops spinning around him.  

“What did you even do?”  Tim this time.  

Jon… doesn’t meet his eyes.  He knows he is blushing, but there isn’t much to be done about that.  He mumbles.  He doesn’t know why.  He knows it won’t work.  Shoving out the words too fast to be understood.  

“What was that Jonny?”  That is a cackle.  Tim is cackling.  Tim, is very irritating… but he does love him, even when he’s teasing.  

“Tripped over my cane.”  Jon says as quickly and quietly as possible.  

“Only you, buddy.  Only You, could do something like that.  Now PLEASE SIT DOWN BEFORE YOU FALL OVER.  I can finish making dinner!”  Tim herds him to a chair.  In the kitchen, because Jon knows that Tim knows Jon won’t actually relax on the couch or the bed if he’s told to.  

“Okay, Jon, what’s left to do… No buts!  This smells amazing and I can’t fuck up pasta, probably.  At least I assume you planned pasta, because there is a box on the counter.”  Sasha says this brandishing aforementioned pasta.  

Sasha makes him tea.  Tim makes the pasta.  (Tim is absolutely the chief between the two of them.)  

“When did you last have painkillers?”  Tim asks.  

“Not too long ago.  Really I’m fine.”

Tim hmmms.  

Jon finds himself nodding off at the table by the time Martin comes home.  

He knows he’s being talked about.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Hey?”

Jon sleepily raises his head from the table.  “Sorry, I went to work.”  

“Love, I thought you were going to Zoom in today.”  Martin doesn’t sound Angry.  But he doesn’t sound happy about this.  In Jon’s defense, he did say he would see how he felt, and he felt fine in the morning.  

Jon whines, he hates disappointing Martin.  

“We can talk about that tomorrow.”  Martin presses a kiss to his forehead.  

“Hey!  No sleeping until we eat!”  Tim.  Mock serious.  Although he will be very serious if Jon tries to skive off to sleep without some food.  

“Dinner, then I vote we cuddle Jon until he gets some rest!”  Sasha this time.  

Just like old times.  

He knows he will be teased for How he broke his leg.  He knows he and Martin will have a serious chat about him pushing himself.  

But for now there is food, and cheer, and his loved ones.  

[nordens-lejon]

Pervitin and Skis

Sufin oneshot I wrote last night.

During WW2, Timo finds himself in the hospital after an accident. Berwald comes to visit him. Based on a true story.

7 April 1944

Timo had never imagined he’d be grateful to find himself in a hospital. But then again, he’d never expected to find himself spending a week in a snow-filled ditch with one calf reduced to mincemeat. A lumpy hospital bed felt like heaven compared to that. The bed was warm and clean, and he could sleep as much as he wanted. The nurses fed him spoonfuls of broth and mashed potatoes. Small portions, so as not to upset his stomach after two weeks without proper food.

The hospital had given Timo a private room, which had annoyed him at first. He’d been fighting with the other soldiers, so sure it was only fair that he got the same treatment as the humans in the military ward. The doctors said it was an attempt to keep the gossip down, and on some level, Timo understood that. The personification of Finland injured and hospitalized? Oh, the Soviets would have a propaganda field day with that.

Someone knocked. That was odd -- the doctors and nurses were coming in whether he liked it or not. Timo thought it might be the timid new orderly, but it was a tall, thin man in an ill-fitting gray suit, messenger bag at his side. A sickly-looking mustache perched on his upper lip.

“Sve!” Timo tried to sit up, but he got nowhere and it only made his stitches hurt. Sure, Berwald was dressed like he’d lost all vestige of fashion sense, but it was him nonetheless. “Oh, I must look horrid, but I never thought…”

“Shhhhh.” It came out as a sharp hiss, but Berwald quietly crossed the room and pulled a chair to the bedside.

“How did you get in?” Timo whispered. He held out a hand, and Berwald immediately took it. “They don’t want anyone to know I’m here. And aren’t you still technically neutral in the war? What if the Soviets find out that you visited? It’ll look like you’re taking sides.”

“The Soviets won’t find out.” Berwald ran his thumb over the back of Timo’s hand. “I set a trail. They think I’m in Malmo. As for the Finns,” he pulled out a badge and a bundle of documents, “I got papers. They think your boss sent me.” The print of the badge was just big enough for Timo to catch the words Director of Cadaver Gynecology.

“So that’s why you grew this.” Timo wiggled his hand free and reached for the mustache.

“Yeah.” Berwald gently pushed Timo back against the pillows with one big hand.

“It’s hideous. I hate it.”

“Sorry.”

“You needed a disguise, I get that, but holy Martin Luther, please shave that thing as soon as you can and never grow it out again. Maybe you should get a wig next time, because with that thing on your face, I can almost imagine myself turning down a kiss. Almost. Just maybe.”

Berwald’s eye sparkled and he pressed a kiss to Timo’s knuckles.

“Oh, you sap. You’re hopeless.” Timo chuckled in spite of himself.

“I am.”

“Of course you are. So you found out I’m here. Something must’ve leaked. What did you hear? They told me they don’t want the story to blow up. There’s the Soviets, and besides, it could hurt national morale.”

Berwald blinked. “They didn’t tell you? It’s been in the papers.”

“The papers?” Timo felt his stomach drop, and he slumped a little. Oh, if this hurt the Finnish war effort, he’d never live it down. “Perkele. What did they say?”

“That you were with your combat unit in Saami territory. On skis. And you took thirty doses of Pervitin.”

“It was an accident!” The words came out louder than anticipated. Berwald would believe him, of course, but he still felt some urge to defend his honor to the universe. “I’d never even taken Pervitin before!” He’d always been wary of those German-made pep pills. Chemists said they contained methamphetamine. “I only took it because I was so tired I was on the verge of passing out. There were Soviets on our tail! And I meant to take one, not thirty. I’d like to see you-- or anyone -- get one pill out of those tiny little tubes while wearing mittens. So I tried to, y’know, just pour one into my mouth.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Berwald reached forward and began stroking Timo’s hair.

“And I just, before I knew it, I’d downed the whole tube.” Timo swallowed and took a minute to take a deep breath and enjoy Berwald’s touch. It reminded him of easier, happier times. “Sorry. But please, don’t stop.”

“Mmm. I won’t. But go on.”

“Go on?”

“What happened next?”

“Oh.” Timo paused. “Well, I… I don’t remember much of it. It felt amazing, at first. Ecstatic. Like I’d been born a new man, with more energy than I’d ever had in my life. And then, it got to be too much, I started shaking. I thought I’d blacked out, but it turned out that I’d just kept skiing. I, I think I crashed through a Soviet camp, and they shot at me, but the doctors didn’t find any bullet wounds. Maybe I hallucinated it. But then, I came to my senses, or really, I came down enough to realize that I’d completely lost my unit, and I was all alone in the snowy forest. But there was so much energy in me that I felt compelled to keep going. To find someone. Anyone.”

Berwald’s brow furrowed. “How long had it been at that point?”

Timo shrugged. “I don’t know. A few days.”

“Did you stop to eat or sleep?”

“Sleep. I doubt it. Eat, no. I lost my supply pack.”

“No wonder you’re so thin.” Berwald ran a thumb along Timo’s cheekbones, which had never been visible before. “I don’t like it.”

“Not planning on staying this way, don’t you worry.” Timo managed a smile. He didn’t want to add that his once-portly body weighed only forty-one kilograms upon admission to hospital. That number would only make Berwald worry -- he was too fond of seeing Timo pampered and plump. “Anyway, not too long after that, I stepped on a landmine.”

“A landmine?”

“Yeah.” Timo gestured to his elevated right leg. The cast covered a mess of stitches and surgical pins. “The blast threw me right off my feet, blew out one of my eardrums, and my legs was, well, I remember this awful mess of blood and bone.”

“Christ almighty.”

“Yeah...I guess. I was still so high that I didn’t feel any pain, at least not at first. But I remember lying there in a ditch with my ears ringing. And I thought that this must be the end of my journey. Some hours passed, and nothing happened. So I figured I might live long enough for someone to find me, so I crawled to this sort of, well, dugout, and waited some more. And nobody came. Eventually, the Pervitin wore off enough that I could feel hunger. I could drag myself to a pine tree and I ate some pine buds. A jay landed on my hand, so I ate that too. I ate snow. Sorry,” he added, seeing the horrified look on Berwald’s face.

“Don’t be sorry. I want to know.” There was a pause “And I want to take you home right now and take care of you forever,” Berwald was flushing, as if he’d already said more than he’d intended, “but that, that’s beside the point.”

That was more than enough to warm Timo’s heart. “Maybe you can, if your disguise holds. I don’t think they’re going to let me back to the front.” Inherently, he was ashamed of that. Going back before the end of the war felt like quitting on his people. “There’s talk about sending me to Helsinki. I’m going to need crutches for a while. And physical therapy. But if you can keep up as Director of Cadaver Gynecology, maybe you can stay with me. At least for a little while.”

“Yes, maybe.” Berwald swallowed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The prospect of Berwald in Helsinki might not take away the shame, Timo realized, but it did make the thought of a long convalescence a lot more bearable. “Thanks, big guy.” Almost suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. This talking was the most exertion he’d done since he’d been admitted.

“It’s nothing,” Berwald said. Another small pause. “You didn’t finish.”

“Finish what?”

“The story. You stopped with eating snow in a ditch.”

“Oh, right.” Timo fought back a yawn. “I walked.”

“You what?”

“Walked. One night, I could see light through the trees, and I don’t know, I guess I was desperate enough that I got up and dragged myself over to them.”

“With your leg like…” Berwald pointed.

“Well, of course. But I made it to their camp, and I was so beat up, that I think I scared them, the poor humans. They called for an ambulance, and they brought me here.” And that,” this time, Timo couldn’t hold back the yawn, “is how I got myself into this whole embarrassing mess.”

“Embarrassing? Never mind, I should let you sleep.”

“Wait, don’t go!” Timo took Berwald’s wrist. “Not just yet. A few more minutes. And yes, of course it’s embarrassing. All this trouble because I couldn’t pick up a pill.”

Berwald set his jaw and kept silent for a moment. “I can’t say how you should feel, but the story’s earned your people’s admiration”

“Wait, what?” This was so surprising, Timo almost forgot how sick and tired he was. “What do you mean, admiration?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you? Yes, you made a mistake, but you’re still here. Thirty doses of Pervitin and two weeks in the woods would’ve killed lesser men. Men who aren’t as tough as Finns. I mean,” Berwald reached down for his messenger bag. “Plenty of your people have sent you cards and letters. Wishing you well, I’m guessing. Haven’t opened any.”

“Those are letters? What? Where did you get those?” Timo watched as Berwald opened the bag, revealing a heap of envelopes.

“Your public PO box. In Helsinki.”

“Right, forgot I gave you a spare key.” The envelopes were mostly white, with occasional blue and pink mixed in. And there were so many of them. Maybe some of them were admonishing him for his stupidity and carelessness, but if even a few were wishing him an easy recovery, well, it was a small consolation, but he felt better. “Do you think you can open one? Read one to me? Do you remember your Finnish?”

“Of course I remember Finnish.” Berwald cupped Timo’s cheek, then picked an envelope from the top of the pile and tore it open. Inside was a generic get-well card with a picture of teddy bear, but somehow, the mass-produced kitsch made it charming. “How ‘bout you get some rest? I’ll read while you settle down to sleep.”

Oh, wasn’t that right in the money. Timo sank back against the pillows and closed heavy eyelids. Lumpy hospital bed heaven was even better with Berwald by his side.

“Dear Mr. Finland,” Berwald began, “I was shocked to hear news of your accident, but I must say that I have never heard a more remarkable story of survival. That’s truly the Finnish spirit, isn’t it? Carrying on and making do in spite of the odds. You’ve reminded me of...”

Berwald’s voice was lovely and soothing, but that was all he heard before sleep claimed him, heavy, comfortable, and reassuring.

Closing notes: For anyone who’s unfamiliar, Pervitin was an methamphetamine-based performance-enhancing drug that was developed by the Germans, who proceeded to give it out to their troops like it was candy. Timo’s story here is based on that of Aimo Koivunen, a Finnish soldier who accidentally took 30 doses of Pervitin, spent two weeks in the woods, stepped on a landmine and lived to tell the tale. He made a full recovery and lived to the age of 72. You can read Koivunen’s story in his own words here.

[the-girl-in-the-box]

Not Today XXXIII

A/N: And we're back?? With hopefully better more regular updates again??? So, I am apologising with some serious fluff at the end. Oopsies <3 And, without further ado, thank you for your patience and enjoy chapter thirty-three XD Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

--

No rest came for Asta after that night, or at least, it didn’t come easily. Ivar couldn’t get out of her what she’d seen, not about anything. He’d convinced her to tell him she had seen something, convinced her to tell him each thing she’d seen- Hvitserk sick, Björn falling when she fought him that final time in Kattegat, but she wouldn’t tell him why she’d woken speaking of Lagertha.

Ivar was certain now, if of nothing else, that Asta was a Prophet. He just wished that she was a Prophet who could sleep some, as she’d barely done so since the night she’d woken. In fact, as they now sat around the table for another meal with Oleg, Katia, and Igor, she seemed to be starting to doze, and Ivar had to keep gently waking her.

They were currently having a conversation about how they’d entertain themselves through the winter, and Katia’s description of bathing in a hot spring had made Asta’s brows crease, looking up at her slowly. Katia was smirking at her, smirking at Ivar as well, and Asta decided right then and there that she just wanted to take Ivar back to their room and go to sleep. Forget any dreams she may have- that would be better than how awkward she felt just then.

“And you, dear Ivar?” Oleg asked. “The future King of all Scandinavia… what would you like?”

“I would like to walk,” Ivar replied, after a few long moments of thought. Oleg began to chuckle, and Asta narrowed her eyes at him.

“That would be a miracle,” he pointed out, as if laughing Ivar’s desires off. But Ivar didn’t laugh, not at all, and Asta began to wonder if he was going to get angry at Oleg.

“I’ve heard that your God performs miracles,” he began. “Jesus Christ raised a man from the dead. He made a lame man walk. He fed a thousand people with just a few loaves and fishes. I don’t think it’s too much to ask of Him to cure a simple cripple, is it?”

Clearly, Oleg was irritated. The idea made Asta smirk, in a way which mirrored Ivar’s own smirk. Irritating that man was now something which Asta thoroughly enjoyed.

“We will all pray for that miracle, Ivar the Boneless,” he said tensely. Asta smiled softly, taking Ivar’s hand under the table.

“We will,” Asta agreed, nodding, and Ivar turned to her with a small smile, before turning back to their host.

“What about you, Prince Oleg?” he questioned. “What is it that… amuses you?” He was silent for a moment, and then reiterated, “What is it that you really want?”

Once the question was asked, Ivar lifted his cup to drink from it, and Oleg replied, “As usual, I want the impossible. I want to go back into my mother’s womb. I want to float there, in that small, limitless universe, among the stars. With no beginning, no end. Waiting for the new world to begin.”

There was a far off look in his eye, and yet Asta still found herself opening her eyes wider, her brows lifting a bit as she took a sip of her drink. Impossible, indeed, she thought to herself. She turned to Ivar then, who looked almost like he might pity the man, and so her eyes turned to Katia, who seemed as if she were… not quite enthralled, by him, but she certainly listened intently. Ivar followed Asta’s gaze, and so Katia turned to look at them both, a strange smirk on her lips.

“I know we have all been here before,” Oleg continued on. “We’re constantly reborn. It’s what I believe.” He seemed to watch, then, the way his wife interacted with the Vikings at their table. Ivar looked away as Katia returned her attention to her husband, and Asta returned her attention to her drink. “Don’t you, Ivar?” he asked.

Katia looked back to Ivar, and it was then Asta became aware of what was happening here. Rebirth… Rebirth, like the face of one’s late wife, now being the face of a new ally’s wife. The statement was designed to draw attention to that once again. Her eyes narrowed a bit, as she heard Ivar thoughtfully answer, “Yes. That’s also what I believe.” He glanced back to Katia, a nearly anxious look in his eyes, and Katia smiled gently at him. The Shieldmaiden wished she could take him from the room, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk upsetting Oleg without due cause, not now that Dir was free, even if it meant letting Ivar continue to be subjected to this sort of mental torture.

“Well,” Asta said, hoping to interrupt this conversation and change it again. “Isn’t anybody going to ask what I’d like this winter?” Ivar chuckled a little at the pouty expression she wore, as if feeling a bit left out.

“My apologies, my Queen,” he said, inclining his head to her as if he were deferring to her authority. He even gave a little flourish with one of his hands, and earned a small giggle from the woman.

Asta turned back to him, and put a hand on his cheek affectionately. “I’d like to spend some time with my husband,” she began, “perhaps having a drink in front of a warm hearth, enjoying his presence with me here. I count it a blessing every day that we are here together, and this winter, I want to be sure I don’t take that for granted.”

Ivar smiled softly at her, and covered her hand with his own. He pulled it away from his cheek so that he could kiss the back of it, before turning it and lacing his fingers with her own. “I think I would like that as well,” he said. “If my legs will not be healed, then I should like to spend some time with my wife, being grateful for the fact she remains at my side, even after all we have been through together.”

She gave his hand a small squeeze, and her free hand lifted to cup his cheek once more. “Then we will,” she promised him. And, whether he knew it or not, her want for that winter served more than one purpose. Of course, she meant all she said, about wanting to spend time with him, and not taking it for granted, but at the same time, she sent a message to Oleg and Katia, who she could still sense trying to mess with Ivar. She wasn’t going to stand by while this happened, and in fact, intended to actively stand in the way. Whatever they thought about that, she didn’t care. All Asta cared about, was that she was there for Ivar, and kept them from hurting him any more than he’d already been hurt.

Fortunately, the rest of the night passed without incident, and the next day Asta and Ivar found theirselves standing up above the market of Kiev, watching as Igor skated around on the ice beneath them, just as he’d said he wanted to do. The people around them cheered the young prince on, and Asta and Ivar were no exception. However, a man soon approached them, and stopped to stand on Ivar’s right, where Asta stood to his left. Neither of the Vikings acknowledged him, but he still spoke.

“I have a message for you, Ivar the Boneless, and Asta the Prophet,” he began, and finally earned their attention. “Prince Dir sends you greetings. He is safe, well, and restored. But for the time being, still in hiding.” The two looked back toward Igor, ensuring it couldn’t be noticed, not easily, that they had just been talking to the man who’d approached them. “However,” he continued. “He hopes that one day he will be strong enough to help you achieve your ambition… which, is also his ambition.”

Cheers and applause went up as Igor finished his skating, and stopped to bow as if having just finished an elaborate performance. Ivar and Asta, as well as their apparent visitor, joined the crowd in congratulating the Prince on not falling over, though the former two wore proud smiles on their faces. While the crowd was thoroughly distracted, the messenger sat a small, metallic object down on the banister on which Ivar leaned, a brief motion before clapping again as well.

“He sends you this cross, by which you will know him, and is a token of his enduring friendship,” he explained, and Ivar casually sat a hand down over it, as if just balancing himself. He picked up his crutch as well, in time for the messenger to say, “Now, I must leave. Please do not turn or watch me go.”

They did as asked, and the man left their side just as quickly as he had come to it. A thoughtful expression took Ivar’s face as he left, and he shared a look with Asta. Things were in motion still, it seemed, and they’d certainly have much to discuss that evening. Ivar turned then to lift his hand, looking down at the cross which had been left by Dir’s messenger. It looked quite different from the crosses Asta was used to seeing in Wessex, having two bars across the top as opposed to the one, and a diagonal bar across the longer section of the bottom. She figured, to represent the sign held above Christ’s head, and to represent the place His feet were nailed to the cross.

So caught up in what had happened as they were, they barely noticed as Igor approached them, and asked, “Who was that?”

“He didn’t tell me his name,” Ivar answered him honestly. “But, he told me that Prince Dir is safe,” he paused to uncover the cross for Igor to see it, “and that he is prepared to help us when the time has come.”

Igor nodded and looked up and out, saying, “Then he is an angel sent from God.”

Ivar made a face as if considering what Igor said, and he smiled a bit as he replied, “You’re right. An angel sent from the gods.”

Asta smiled as that conversation naturally reached its conclusion, and she moved around Ivar to go and hug Igor tightly. “And you, Igor, skated just like a little angel yourself!” she complimented him, and he grinned up at her.

“Do you really think so?” he asked happily, which earned a nod from her.

“I know so,” she answered with a smile. “You were so smooth out there! Perhaps you could teach me, hm? Though I may be too old to learn…”

She started to walk with him back to the Palace, and Ivar stood behind them and watched them go. He could hear Igor laughing, and telling her she wasn’t old, and certainly she wasn’t as old as Oleg, which made her laugh as well.

A small smile formed on his lips as he watched this, and watched them, before finally following along after them. Not that he figured he’d catch up now, but he didn’t mind. It was nice to sit back and watch the two interact, really. Asta, though still young, seemed to have a very natural way with children, and it occurred to him that he was thinking of this for the second time about her- ironically, it was also the second time he’d really just watched her with Igor.

She even walked with an arm around the boy’s shoulders, a move that seemed both protective and affectionate all at once. But, he noticed that they really did look like mother and son as they walked along, and it occurred to him once more that he rather liked the idea of them being his family, now. It wasn’t a difficult fantasy to entertain, as often as they spent time together in the ways a family would. And, truth be told, he didn’t find it a harmful fantasy in the slightest. In fact, it even seemed to warm him from the inside out- a hard thing to do in the cold Rus climate.

Once Igor had been returned to his chambers, Asta and Ivar had said goodbye to him and returned to their own, which felt a bit colder to them now as the winter wore on. Asta, ever one to take up an opportunity, smirked and said to Ivar, “I think I’m going to have a servant come and light our hearth, perhaps bring us something to drink. What do you think of that?”

Ivar chuckled a bit at the suggestion, remembering the previous night at dinner. “You want to make your winter wish come true tonight, do you?” he asked her teasingly. “I think it is a fine idea, though, you are lacking a husband to sit with, are you not?”

Asta giggled a little and walked closer to him cupping his cheek and answering, “What need do I have of a husband when I have you, dear Ivar?” She gave his cheek a quick kiss, and then went to the door to pop out and begin her search for a servant.

Perhaps dangerously, Ivar found himself considering, quite seriously, the idea of really making her his wife, making himself her husband. The idea of entering another marriage unsettled him, as horribly as the last one had gone, and he was comfortable with Asta, the way they were. Yes, they flirted, far more than was needed for the story they sold to Oleg and Katia, and every other person there in Kievan Rus’, and he felt nearly certain that what they shared was something real.

But what damage could he do by giving voice to it, by truly setting the idea before her? He would be putting his heart at her feet, he knew that, and the last time he’d given his heart away, it had been handed back to him crushed, if not tossed back down at his feet. Was he ready to risk such a thing again, to risk Asta rejecting him, for whatever reason, and perhaps leaving him alone, pulling away? He thought it must have been better to have what he did with her, than to ask for more, and lose it all.

His time to debate this ran out as Asta soon returned with a servant, one who came into their chambers and immediately began to tend to their hearth, lighting it and coaxing the flame into a full, warm fire by which they could sit and warm themselves. The servant left once it was ready, to go and fetch them some drinks, and Asta hauled one of the many furs off the bed and dragged it over to the hearth, sitting down under it as Ivar eased himself down beside her.

At first, when she offered him the blanket, he had declined and said he wasn’t all too cold. A quip had been made about Saxons, and how less prepared they were for such cold temperatures, but by the time drinks had been brought to them, and they’d had one or two, he found his shoulder pressed up to hers beneath the blanket. It was far more comfortable than trying to weather the cold alone.

And, that applied to his current dilemma with her, too, didn’t it? Perhaps it was the slight buzz he felt, the alcohol in his blood which loosened his lips, or perhaps he’d truly just made up his mind that he didn’t want to let the possibility fade away, too comfortable with what he had to possibly gain something better. It didn’t really matter, he didn’t guess, because he still opened his mouth, and still asked, “Asta?”

She turned to him with a quiet, “Hm?” not even seeming to be upset that he’d cut her off. He figured that was a good thing, given he wanted her happy when he put his question to her. But oh, how to ask this? How to even begin?

“What do you think you will do when all this is over, hm?” he settled on, tilting his head just a bit. She gave a thoughtful hum, and turned to look at the fire in front of him. 

After a few moments debating, she turned back and asked him, “What will you do?”

“That was not the question,” he answered with a chuckle. “I want to know what you want after this.”

She sighed and returned her gaze to the fire, the flames lighting up her face with their red glow, and reflecting in her eyes. “I’m not sure,” she confessed. “Part of me wishes to return to Wessex, and visit my brother. But at the same time… I’m not certain I’d be very welcome there anymore.”

Ivar’s brows creased together some as he asked, “Why would you not be welcome there now?”

“I’ve made quite a name for myself as your Queen, don’t you think? No doubt he’s been told that I’m with you, as opposed to in Kattegat with your brothers. If word has travelled to Kattegat of what I’m called here, then word may reach him, and I don’t know that he’d want to receive me now. Not to mention, we live together as though we’re husband and wife, without being… They’re liable to condemn me as an apostate.”

Asta chuckled, but Ivar could tell it lacked all humor. She was anxious, nervous about what her life since she’d left Wessex might have done to the relationship she had with her final living relative. He could sort of relate to that, having lost all his brothers either to death or simply falling out. His hand moved to rest on her leg, meant to be a comforting gesture, and Asta smiled and covered his hand with her own, taking it. Now, he thought. Now is the time.

“We could… always change that, you know,” he began. 

Asta’s brows creased as she turned to him and asked, “Change what?”

He swallowed. “You say it would offend your people, and possibly drive a wedge between yourself and your brother, if it was discovered that we lived together as though we were married, when we are not,” he said. “But we could…” Her face fell, and something cold seized his heart.

“Ivar,” she said. “No, I don’t mean to say that I want to stop. Believe me, I don’t… I don’t know how I’d go back to life before this. Being with you like this, it’s good. It makes me happy. I never felt alone before, but I know now that if I lost this, I would. I’d rather they mistake me for an apostate than lose this.”

Ivar shook his head, and turned to face her more, reaching across so he could take both her hands in his. “Asta, that is not my meaning. My meaning is that, we could change how they would see us living together this way.” Her eyes widened a bit as she seemed to realise where he was leading with this, and her lips parted slightly.

“Ivar…” she managed, but he held her hands a little tighter, and pushed through.

“Asta, if we were married, they would have no way to criticise the way we behave. And nothing would have to change. We live as husband and wife as it is, and we tell all we encounter here that we are. Why should we not be?” he questioned. “Asta, marry me.”

Her hands tightened in his, and he could see a thousand thoughts running behind her eyes, almost as if she were trying to calculate if this could work. Eventually, she managed to say, “You realize I never want to marry a second time, yes? So if I say yes right now, and we do it…”

She was considering it. Somehow, he’d not believed he would even get this far with it, and yet she was actually considering the possibility.

“I can’t lose you,” she finished. “I know I’ve said so before, but I mean it more so than ever if I agree to this. If we were wed, I could not stand to lose you. I don’t want you to offer this just to save my dignity before my brother and the people of Wessex. I may already be outcasted enough for having become, essentially, Viking. So if you’re only doing this for that reason, and don’t truly want to be my husband… Please, say so now, and we’ll leave it be.”

Ivar shook his head. “We would have to wait until all is done here, as to marry now would reveal we have not been married all along, and it would ruin the little trust we have with Oleg. But when this is done, before we return to Wessex, we could be married.”

Asta smiled at him, in such a way as she seemed about to say yes, but then her face fell, and she sighed. “You can’t know how badly I wish to say yes right now,” she confessed. “I want to say yes, to marry you somewhere between Rus and Wessex, and to truly become your Queen. But if we are honest, do we think Alfred will approve of this? I may have all but given up my titles, but that’s here. In Wessex, they will still expect me to uphold those traditions. You would be expected to ask Alfred to wed me, as no other relatives of mine still live.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes a bit. “You are a Viking Queen,” he said. “Why should you need the permission of a Saxon King to marry, huh?”

Asta gave a small chuckle and shook her head. “I’m not a Viking Queen,” she reminded him. “It’s a story we fabricated to protect us, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Ivar said, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “You are my Queen, and when we take Kattegat back from my brothers, I want you to be Kattegat’s Queen, too.”

Asta swallowed, and for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in a world where she could simply say yes. So, she smiled, covered his hand with hers, and leaned slightly toward him. It came as no shock to her when Ivar leaned in fully, and captured her lips with his.

For the night, Asta decided, she would believe she could be whatever she wished, and she would let herself believe that she could be his.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @sylki-simp, @heavenly1927, @pomegranates-and-blood, @kingniazx, @dekusdante

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 6

Day 6 - When your soulmate is injured you will experience pain in that area

Pairing(s): Analoceitmus [ambiguous, can be read romantic or platonic, or a mix], QPR Royality 

TWs: Injury mention, swearing, Remus being Remus near the end 

–

“I’m going to sue him.”, Logan hissed, attempting to sit up in his hospital bed, “Soulmate or not, how can one man possibly be so irresponsible?! I’m definitely going to sue him.”

He winced as he tried to get comfy, but the tough mattress and uncomfortable bunching of the sheets said suffer. 

And boy, was he. 

Logan Sanders was an immaculate, careful man. Had been since he was a child. A neat and tidy lad who - upon learning of the rules of fate - made it his utmost mission to spare his soulmate any pain or anguish for as long as he could manage. 

His soulmate, however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment.

From childhood, Logan found himself with sudden knee pains from scrapes he never fell for, abrasions he had caused no friction to gain, and the occasional shoulder or back pain as if he’d been pushed over when he was standing perfectly upright. At least the universe had decided to spare humanity the anguish of leaving soulmates with the physical injuries that came with the pain, but it was only a minor comfort.

Logan couldn’t say he hadn’t expected a lot of rough and tumble from his soulmate after his elementary school years, but really; a broken leg, facial burns, and a splintered forearm? “This is absolute bullshit.”, he bitterly muttered, “Barely hours apart! How is that even possible?!”

His ranting went ignored by the nurse who came to administer his medication; thankfully science had worked out a wonderful little clear pill that could banish the pain from particularly debilitating soulmate pains. The little bastards were expensive - the true pain is always capitalism within the medical world -  but Logan’s job paid handsomely. Say what you will about computer nerds and whatnot, but programming for the right people lets you make some seriously high end bread. None of that homemade farmer’s market shit.

Unfortunately, he’d have to wait about a week for his pains to ebb gently into nothingness until the klutz of a man fate paired him with got into MORE trouble. Thus Logan couldn’t get back to his work. His leg was, for all intents and purposes, broken so the staff couldn’t let him go home. He couldn’t simply drive home himself either, his splintered forearm saw to that. And Logan couldn’t even ask his roommate Emile to bring him his work laptop to try and keep his workload at bay, his left eye was too cloudy and painful to concentrate on a screen. 

Yes; his soulmate BETTER be paying his hospital bills.

Realisation struck Logan; his soulmate is obviously just as injured, ergo it’s a high probability that he could be somewhere within the hospital too. Using his good hand to reach for a pen, and absolutely dreading adding to his pain, Logan poked the tip into his good arm, wincing as he first attempted to contact them with simple morse code, “My/ Name/ Is/ Logan. Who/ Are/ You?”

He waited for a response, fearing he would have to start scratching his name onto his arm when he felt the little jabs in response,  “Janus.” Great. He FINALLY had a name to put on the lawsuit. Logan, already wincing at the bee-sting pain from the pen, he jabbed out another message,

“Are/ You/ Currently/ Staying/ At/ Stokes/ General/ Hospital?”

The reply came cryptically,

“Yes / I / -”

Logan wasn’t sure why his soulmate had suddenly stopped replying. Had a nurse confiscated whatever his soulmate was using to poke himself? Either way, Logan would have to be content with the knowledge his soulmate was at least close by. He truly had no idea how close until two very disgruntled voices were within earshot of his room door,

“Brilliant, I just adore being ousted from my comfortable bed so I could spend even longer looking at your delightful face.”

“Oh, like you’re the victim here, asshole! You’re the one stabbing yourself and fucking up my unbroken arm!”

Logan watched them both argue outside of his room door. Both men were sporting similar injuries to his own; the first one that had spoken, refined looking gentleman with sharp features and neat blonde hair, had the left side of his face bandaged heavily. Meanwhile the other man, sporting raven hair and eye bags that could carry a month’s worth of groceries, was fitted with a cast on his left forearm. Both of them were on crutches, though Logan couldn’t see if either had a genuine cast.

“Ahem. Gentlemen?”

Logan called to them, watching as both turned to meet his gaze. He lifted the pen in his hand and asked, “I take it one of you is Janus?”

The man with the bandages over his eye, Janus, nodded, “That would be me.”

The man with the broken arm looked confused, “Wait, so, you’re the one who was ramming a pen into their arm? Damn.”, he turned, begrudgingly to the first man, “I guess I owe you an apology then.”

“Really you needn’t-”

“Then I shan’t.”

Janus glared at the other man’s snark, but Logan found it rather delightful. Clearing his throat once more, he breached the topic, “I take it that means we three are soulmates?”

“Four.”

Logan and Janus looked to the third man as he explained, “Your leg doesn’t have a proper cast on it, this asshole doesn’t have one either,”, Janus gifted the man a half glare and a middle finger before he continued, “And since I don’t have one, it’s pretty obvious there’s a fourth musketeer.”

Fair to say, Logan was impressed, even Janus was hiding the tiniest hint of admiration as he retorted, “And are we to call you Sherlock or D’artagnan?”

The man rolled his eyes, “Ha ha, fuck you. My name’s-”

“VIRGIL!!”

The man, Virgil, nearly lept out of his skin, jerking his arm and giving the three of them a jolt of pain. Logan felt relieved he’d only have to put up with it for a few more days once the medicine took effect. 

In the doorway stood a man who could only be described as unnecessarily handsome, clad in a burgundy bomber jacket and a Nightmare Before Christmas shirt that seemed out of place on someone who stood poised like the protagonist of a romance anime. Logan noted he and Janus both checked to see if his leg was broken; good to know they had similar tastes even if the man’s lack of a cast dashed their hopes. Said handsome man made a beeline for Virgil, only to receive a swat and a motion to back off, 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Princey, you nearly gave me a heart attack!!!”, Virgil hissed and took a deep breath. ‘Princey’ let out a fond huff, “You should be so lucky, Bring Me The Depression, do you know how worried Pat and I were when we couldn’t find you!? This, dearest Emo Nightmare, is karma at its finest-!”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Roman. Where’s Pat? He’s gonna wanna meet my soulmates.”

Roman blinked, finally registering Logan and Janus just watching the two of them reunite. Clearing his throat, Logan made the introductions, “I’m Logan Sanders, this gentleman is-”

“Janus Delgado. Charmed I’m sure.”, Janus butt in, “Really, Logan, I can introduce myself. Unlike some people.”

Virgil flipped him off just in time for Roman to frown in confusion, “And…. you’re all sure you’re soulmates? I mean, no offense but you don’t...”, he picked his words carefully, his face contorting at the effort, “....act like soulmates?”

The three of them looked between one another and shrugged, “To be perfectly fair - Roman, yes? - we have all literally just met today under…. Less than optimal circumstances. I doubt you and your soulmate, assuming you’ve found them, hit it off instantly.”

Roman blinked, “Kind of, we didn’t have any problems like this, quite honestly...”, he almost sounded guilty at that notion, “The worst we have to deal with is his cat allergies-”

Out in the hallway, a couple of nurses hurriedly walked past and allowed another man into the room who immediately lit up at the sight of Roman and Virgil, “There you both are!!! I got held up at the vending machine, but when I came back you were both gone!”

“Patton! How glad I am to see you once more!”, Roman beamed, pulling the taller man into a hug and planting a dramatic kiss upon his cheek, to which Logan, Janus, and Virgil simultaneously met with an ‘ugh’. Perhaps they were more alike than they first assumed. 

Patton turned to meet Janus and Logan’s gaze, looking back to Virgil who explained, “They’re two of my soulmates, Pat.”

For a moment, the tall excitable ball of sunshine looked like he was about to pop with joy when Roman held up a hand to interject, “Pardon me, but ‘two of’?”, and cast his confusion towards Virgil who explained, “Our last soulmate has a broken leg, it’s the only injury we can’t account for.”

Patton and Roman shared a momentary look, drawing Logan’s attention, “Roman? Patton? Are you both alright?”. The two seemed to play eye contact rock-paper-scissors to decide who would answer, with Roman losing apparently.

“When exactly did you feel the pain in your leg?”

“Couple hours ago” “Around three?” “Precisely 3:27 pm.”

Came the chorus of answers. Janus and Virgil both shot Logan a look, to which he quietly murmured, “It never hurts to provide a little extra clarity.”

“Apparently so,”, Janus began, before shifting his partial gaze to the couple, “So, are you lovebirds-”

“Qpp’s.”, Patton corrected quietly, to which, Janus did apologise, “Pardon me. So, are you queer platonic saps going to clue us in to why exactly you asked us such a specific question?”

Roman sighed, “I ask because my brother, Remus, broke his leg at that exact same time today. Pat and I were going to visit him right after we’d checked in with Virgil.”

The three soulmates shared a collective look, but the first one to pipe up was Virgil, “You have a brother?! Why am I only finding this out now, I’ve known you for 12 fucking years, Roman! What the fuck!?”

Logan exasperatedly ran a hand down his face as he tried to maneuver himself out of his bed and into one of the hospital’s wheelchairs, Janus offering a hand to him, “Virgil, as much as I would love to listen to you and Roman bicker back and forth, could we possibly save such trivialities for after we meet our fourth soulmate?”

This time Patton piped up, “Oh, um, you may not want to do that just yet-”

As if on cue, roughly six or seven medical staff rushed by, causing Patton and Roman to quickly look around the doorway, only to turn back to the others, “Well, no time like the present. Patton, if you help Virgil, I’ll help Janus once Logan can shimmy into that wheelchair.”, Roman assigned as he offered an arm for Logan to hold onto while he got himself in the chair. Noting the context clues, Logan was rightfully worried, especially as he felt a new pain in his hand, only to note that while Roman and Patton helped them move, Virgil and Janus seemed to be experiencing more pain in their legs than before. In the moment, Logan did feel a little bad that the pill he’d taken hours earlier was saving him from too much additional pain. Approaching the hospital room the medical staff had gathered within, the group were greeted with a wild scene.

A scruffy man strikingly similar in looks to Roman - albeit sporting a thin moustache and silver hair streak - wearing a leg cast was holding a crutch in one hand and an honest to god butterfly knife in the other, standing atop his hospital bed, raving like a lunatic and gesturing frantically to an empty space in the room,

“NOW WILL SOMEBODY FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE?! ME AND THIS BEAR WANNA GO CATCH HORNY FISH AND SHIT IN THE WOODS!!” 

Charming. 

Logan glanced over at Patton and Roman, the question clear on his face just like their answer. That was Remus alright. He watched Roman talk with a nurse trying to calm Remus, “We gave him some painkillers to ease his leg pains, but it shouldn’t be affecting him this much!”

“Oh, Remus has always been like this with medication, I should’ve warned the nursing staff.”, he groaned, “But that doesn’t explain-”

“He must’ve pushed the blue button behind his bed,”, Logan sighed, already anticipating Roman’s question, “The medical staff likely assumed Remus was coding and thus went into action. That’s why they’re here right now.”

Roman’s expression confirmed that was indeed going to be his question. As Roman went to help the nurses tranquilise Remus’ wild flailing, and while his other two soulmates stood by to watch the chaos - in varying degrees of worry and strange admiration bordering on attraction for his disregard for social norms - Logan tried to come to terms with the facts.

He had three very different soulmates, and by the looks of it? He’d have to get used to frequent hospital stays….

--------------

This one’s probably on the weirder side, but uh, yeah, I hope it’s still a good read! [Also sorry these have been a little late lately TTvTT] @tsshipmonth2020 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @cateye-glasses

[tinyboxxtink]

"Doppelganger" *Part 17*

WHOO, y'all I really didn't think I had a lot left in me and then this just came pouring out. Wow. So yeah after about 3 hours and some crying and a breakdown later, here's another chapter. Definitely gonna get to 20. Oh yeah.

Warning: ANGST. SO MUCH ANGST. This one kinda got too close to home, but I made it that way so I have no one to blame but myself. If it hits close to home for you as well, I'm so sorry. Also if you're sensitive to....idk I guess I'll just say "drug use"? Use caution when reading.

Part 16

Part 18

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

-------

That Monday you went to class for the first time since you had been abducted. You slunk into class and sat in the back trying to remain unnoticed, but everyone instantly turned to you.

"Oh my god Y/N! Are you ok?!" One student asked you.

"How scary was it?" Another one asked.

"Was Nevada good in bed?" One girl asked you, causing three girls to hit her and shoo her away.

"I um...I…" you tried to breathe, but the questions and chatter kept coming. It was too much for you to handle. You grabbed your stuff and ran out of the classroom, down the hall.

"Hey sweetie are you ok--?" A young Hispanic girl asked you. It took you back to when Gabi had befriended you. You backed away from her and ran out of the building into the quad. You were hyperventilating, you could barely see in front of you. You collapsed onto the grass, crying. You hit your speed dial to call Chloe.

“Hello?”

“Ch-Chloe, I--” You could barely breathe, you were crying so hard. People were starting to stare, you had to get control of yourself.

“Y/N? Oh my god babe are you ok? What happened?”

“I...I need you…” You gasped, trying to get up and duck behind a building where no one could stare at you.

“Oh, oh honey I’m across town right now. Otherwise you know I’d come right down there,” She apologized. “Why don’t you call--”

“I can’t call Rafael,” You cut her off. “I don’t want him to know how fucked up I still am about all of this, we just started to get back to normal,”

“...Um okay, well I don’t know what you want me to--”

“Forget it, I’ll be fine,” You hung up the phone before she could say anything else. You felt bad for being so short with her, but you weren’t exactly yourself right now.

You really didn’t want to have to use Rafael as your crutch, your lifejacket. He had his own life, his own career. He didn’t have time to babysit you. You took several deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. You glanced around the corner, fewer people were in the quad now. You calmed yourself down enough to walk over and sit under a tree, breathing in the spring air.

You were just starting to calm down when your phone rang: RAFAEL CALLING.

Dammit Chloe…You reluctantly answered the phone with a fake chipper voice. “Hey baby!”

“Hola mi amor, Como estas?”

“I’m fine, Raffi…”

“Are you sure? Because Chloe just called me and--”

“She shouldn’t have called you,” You grumbled.

“Y/N, look baby if you’re in distress--”

“I’m not in distress, Rafael. I’m fine,”

“Are you--”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m sorry Chloe called you. I’ll see you at home,” You hung up the phone abruptly. You instantly felt guilty; why were you taking it out on him? He was just trying to help. But you didn’t want him worrying about you, that was the whole point. You just wanted to forget about everything for a while. You laid down under the tree and closed your eyes, enjoying the sunshine on your face.

-------

Meanwhile

Rafael really didn’t want to betray your trust, but he didn’t know what else to do at this point. You clearly needed outside help and you refused to let him give it to you, so he felt like he had no choice. He went down to the precinct and into Olivia’s office.

“Rafa,” Olivia stood up as he walked in.

“Hey Liv,” He nodded, giving her a small hug. She walked back around her desk as he took a seat.

“What’s up?”

“It’s….Y/N,”

“She’s having trouble dealing with her trauma, isn’t she?”

“...Yes,” He nodded sadly. “And she won’t talk to me. She won’t let me talk to her about it because she doesn’t want me to think of her as a ‘victim’ and--”

“Well of course not Rafael, you’re her--” She paused. “Are you two still engaged?”

“YES, Olivia,” He sternly replied. “We’re still engaged,”

“Okay, sorry,” She bit her lip. “Anyway, of course she’s not going to want to discuss her trauma with you, you’re her loved one. Would you want her to see you as a victim?”

“...No,” He shook his head. “But she needs to talk to someone,”

“Are you suggesting I talk to her?” Olivia half laughed. “Because that’s probably worse than talking to you--”

“Why? She won’t feel ashamed telling you things, she doesn’t care what you think of her,”

“Well, gee thanks,”

“You know what I mean,”

“Yeah I do. She doesn’t like me,” Olivia pointed out. “Which means she won’t be as open to me, you know that,”

“Well, I mean if any of the other squad members come to her she’s just going to be upset more and more people know about her, and I just thought---” He sighed and held his head in hands. “I just-- I don’t know what to do, Liv,”

Olivia came around her desk again and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “...I’ll try, if you really want me to,”

He looked up and gave her a small smile. “Thank you, Liv,”

-----------------

That Night

You had come back to Rafael’s after your little meltdown. While you were at school, a very kind gentleman found you lying under the tree and noticed you needed a bit of shall we say, a chill pill. You had gladly taken a few and popped them on the way home, and you were currently sleeping it off in the front of the TV when Rafael came home, and he wasn’t alone.

“Y/N….Baby?” He called, but there was no answer. He gave Liv a worried look as he dashed through your living room, to find you unconscious on the couch while Netflix was asking “ARE YOU STILL THERE?”

“Oh my god, Y/N! Baby, baby are you okay? Y/N, wake up!” Rafael violently shook you as Olivia started to call for a bus. She stopped dialing when you groggily awoke, stroking Rafael’s face with a sleepy smile.

“Heyyy, baby--” You kissed him deeply.

“Are you--- are you high, right now?” He looked at you horrified.

“What? No! No….maybe a little bit,” You bit your lip trying not to giggle at his very serious face.

“God dammit-- Y/N, carino-- why--?”

“Oh my GOD,” You suddenly noticed Olivia standing behind him. “What is she doing here?”

“She came to--”

“Oh my god, you told her to come here didn’t you? You’re kicking me out, aren’t you? For HER?”

“What? No! Jesus Christ, Y/N what exactly did you take--”

“Oh yeah, let me just tell the ginger snap here what drugs I’m on, and then she can throw me in jail and have you all to herself!”

“What the-- alright that’s it, you with me,” He grabbed your arm and started dragging you to his room. “I’m sorry about this Liv,” He looked at her apologetically.

“Oh yeah, sorry Olivia, wouldn’t want to interrupt your romantic evening with my fiancée,” You mocked, making Rafael walk faster. He pulled you into the room but you were so out of it you flopped onto the bed like a rag doll.

“Jesus-- Okay seriously baby, you need to tell me what you took,”

“No! It was nothing, it was just something to calm me down, it’s not a big deal--”

“It IS a big deal!” He yelled angrily. “Look at you! You can barely sit up!”

“I’m fine! See?” You sat up for about 10 seconds before falling back down on the bed again. You started giggling uncontrollably until you saw Rafael’s face. He wasn’t angry anymore he was...sad? Scared? His eyes were filled with tears, his hand was over his mouth.

“....What is happening right now?” You blinked several times, trying to clear your mind. Seeing Rafael in distress suddenly made being high not so fun anymore.

“...You know this is how I had to see my dad every day when I was a kid,” He said through choked back tears. “You know how traumatic it is to see you like this Y/N I don’t know why--”

“What?” You suddenly sat up quickly, holding on to the edge of the bed to keep you upright. “I...no, you said he used to beat--”

“You think he was SOBER while doing that?!” Rafael yelled louder now, and became more angry.

“...No, I guess not--” You hung your head down, mostly because it was difficult to keep it upright.

“I...I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, I just can’t,” He threw his hands up and walked towards the door.

“Rafa I--”

“Just sleep it off, we’ll talk later,” He snarled and slammed the door.

Almost immediately you burst into tears; how could you have done this to him? You hadn’t really thought about his whole dad situation, but now that he said it out loud it made perfect sense.

You just wanted to feel better, without causing him grief. And instead you had caused him heartache and pain. It made you hate yourself more than you already did.

And to top it off, Olivia was now out there with him in the living room, probably comforting him. Holding him while he cried about how you hurt him. You were driving him right back into her arms, no potions needed. You wanted so badly to just go in there and tell her to get the fuck away from your man, but you still couldn’t stand. You just laid there and cried until you fell asleep.

------

Hours later, you woke up to a dark room once again. It was 10:30. How long had you been out? You cautiously opened the door, but the living room was dark. Rafael wasn’t there?

“...Baby?” You called through the apartment to make sure, but sure enough there was no answer. You flipped on the light to see a note with your name on it. Oh god.

“No, no no no no--” You raced over and opened the paper, praying to God it wouldn’t say what you thought it would.

“Y/N-- Went out to clear my head, think about things. There’s food in the fridge I’ll be back.”

“I’ll be back?” You read out loud. When? Tonight? Tomorrow? A week from now? You started to grab your phone to call him, but before you could the door swung open and Rafael came sneaking in-- with Olivia.

“Oh my, Oh my god--” You wanted to vomit right there. They were both clearly a little tipsy and giggling, but when they saw you they straightened up quickly.

“Hey baby, you’re up,” He smiled sweetly, walking over and kissing your cheek.

“Oh so this is what we’re doing now, is it? I get high and upset you, so you go and get drunk to upset me?”

“What? No, I just-- we were just--” He looked to Liv.

“Y/N listen, we were just--” Olivia tried to explain.

“Oh I think you were JUST LEAVING, bitch,” You growled, starting to charge her but Rafael grabbed your arm.

“HEY, leave Liv alone,” He told you sternly, almost glaring at you. You had been here before, this was too familiar. You looked at him in surprise, then turned to Olivia with anger.

“...You did it again, didn’t you?” Hot tears stung your eyes as you swiped your arm from Rafael’s grasp.

“Did what?” Olivia asked, oblivious.

“You dosed him again, DIDN’T YOU?!” You started to charge her again as you screamed, but this time Rafael grabbed you by your waist.

“Y/N! Nobody fucking dosed me, you wanna talk about dosing? Let’s talk about how I found you earlier,” He barked.

“That was completely different--” You started to defend yourself.

“Why? Because you wanted to feel better?” He asked you angrily. “Because I went out and did the same thing, and just because you’re insecure about Liv and I, suddenly she has me under a spell?”

“This isn’t you,” You shook your head with tears rolling down your cheeks. “It just isn’t, I know it’s not,” You looked to Olivia, who still retained her confused look.

“Olivia, can you--?” Rafael looked at her while nodding at the door.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll-- talk to you later,” She gave a little nervous wave before walking out and closing the door behind her.

------

“See? Are you happy now?” He threw up his hands. “I didn’t go after her like a little love spelled puppy, Y/N,”

“You don’t have to mock me--”

“I told you I wasn’t under anything! You think that just because I’m mad at you, suddenly I must be under some kind of spell? Because, what? Because I can’t be mad at you, because you’re ‘going through something’? What about me?! What about what you’re putting me through?!”

“I’m trying NOT TO!!!!!!” You screamed.

“Yeah well you’re doing a hell of a job,” He laughed sarcastically, walking through the living room to his room.

“Rafael, Rafa!” You chased after him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“To what, Y/N? To get high in the middle of the day on god knows what? Or did you not mean to get caught?” He sneered as he started to get undressed.

“I just wanted to feel better!!” You stomped your foot.

“I don’t make you feel better? You need drugs for that?!” Tears came to his eyes. He couldn’t believe what you were saying.

“No!!! I just--” You paused, trying not to cry. “I just don’t want our relationship to be you constantly comforting me, or-- or taking care of me, like I’m a child!”

“Yeah well you’re sure as hell acting like one,” He tossed off his pants and dress shirt and stomped into his bathroom to get a t-shirt to wear with his boxers.

“....Why are you putting clothes on to sleep?” You asked him cautiously; you both usually slept naked in each other’s arms all night.

“Because I’m sleeping in the guest room, you can have the bed,” He pushed past you and out the door heading down the hallway to the guest room.

“No, no no no no Rafael don’t,” You quickly trailed him, grabbing his hand and making him face you.

“Why? I don’t make you feel better, why don’t you sleep with your pills?” He narrowed his eyes at you as he pulled away from you and started to walk away again.

“.....Please….” You softly whimpered, making him stop in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, he just looked at the ground and sighed.

“...Please don’t leave me alone,” You sounded like a little girl scared of the dark, but you didn’t care.

You couldn’t pretend that you didn’t need him anymore, because the truth is you did. You needed him by you every second of every day, you felt absolutely helpless without him. And you hated it. But you couldn’t hide it anymore.

After a long pause, Rafael turned back to face you, tears were streaming down your face. You looked so small and pitiful, he instantly regretted yelling at you like he had. He walked back slowly towards you, taking you in his arms and rubbing your back.

“I’m never going to leave you alone, carino,” He whispered as you sobbed into his chest. “I promise you,”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “I’m so sorry about today. I just--”

“I know,” He nodded as he walked you back into his room and sat you on the bed as you pulled your clothes off. He took off his clothes and crawled into bed next to you, listening to your cries die down.

“I’m sorry I went out with Olivia, mi amor,” He apologized into your ear as he spooned you. “I knew how much that would hurt you and I did it anyway,”

“...It’s fine,” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure it was. But, you knew on some level that being high in front of Rafael would upset him and you did it anyway, so you couldn’t really hold onto it.

“....You really do need someone to talk to though, baby. Even if it’s not me,” He whispered, kissing the back of your neck gently. “Please?”

“Okay,” You nodded as you turned to face him. “I’ll do anything you want me to Rafa,”

“I want you to do it for you,” He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t care about me, I care about you!” You shook your head.

“And I care about-- see this is what I’m talking about, baby,” He sighed. “You have to stop-- punishing yourself, or hating yourself, for whatever happened. We’re never going to be able to move on if you don’t,”

“....Okay,”

“Okay you’ll do it?”

“...I’ll try,”

“Okay,” He kissed you gently. “That’s all I’m asking,”

“....I flushed the rest of the pills,” You told him softly, making him smile for the first time that night.

“Thank you, baby,” He kissed you again.

“And I don’t care if you think that you’re--- being a burden, or needy, or some kind of anchor because you need me to feel safe. I want you to feel safe, all the time. And I WANT to be the one who makes you feel safe. Not drugs, not alcohol, not anybody else. Me. And if I need to be by your side 24/7 for the time being, then that’s what I’ll do,”

“What? Rafa come on--” You started to protest.

“No, I’m serious,” He took your hands. “I made a commitment to you, and I’m damn sure going to keep it. I will protect you from now until the end of our lives. So, I’ll call Morgan tomorrow and tell her that until further notice, unless I’m in court I’ll be working from home, okay?”

“I---I can’t ask you to do that--”

“You’re not asking me, carino. I’m offering-- No, I’m telling you, that’s what I’m doing,”

“....Okay,” You nodded with a small smile, snuggling closer into his chest as he pulled you tighter.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in the world,” He whispered to the top of your head as you fell asleep on his chest.

“I love you too Rafael,” You cooed as you drifted off to sleep.

[waiting4inspiration]

Speak my Language II (Ivar x Reader)

Summary: You and Ivar find out why you seem so drawn to the Norse culture when you show him something you’ve had since you were a child. 

Warnings: strong language, religious conflicts, fluff, mentions of parents death, nothing else I can think of XD

Word Count: 2,260

Speak my Language Part 1 II Vikings Masterlist

“You smile,” Athelred mentions, causing your head to snap up as your thoughts about the Heathen King, Ivar are broken and you remember where you are. 

You sit with Alfred and his brothers, parchments from different lands in front of you that you are meant to be translating for your king. But you can’t stop thinking about your encounter with Ivar. Athelred and Alfred both stare at you, one with a smirk on his face and the other with a curious look. One is used to you smiling when you’re learning something new from a different culture, and the other isn’t sure why you bother with such things. 

Smirking to yourself when you think of why you’re smiling, you remember something Ivar said. Something different from what men have said to you in England. Ivar said that he wanted you. He said that nothing would stop him from wanting you. 

And you decide to see if the difference between his culture and the Saxon culture is still there. “Tell me, Athelred, had the circumstances been different between us and your...other relationships, would you marry me?” 

Your question makes Alfred chuckle and Athelred to frown at you in confusion. He looks at his younger brother who only shrugs his shoulders and nods to you. “Answer the question, brother,” he encourages, curious to see where you’re going with this.

Athelred sighs and looks back at you and you fold your hands on the desk in front of you, on top of the parchments. “No, I would not,” he replies. And yet, you don’t have a hurt expression on your face. 

“And why is that?” you question, bring your hands up under your chin and smiling at him when he gives a sigh. 

“Because you are too learned. A woman should have as much knowledge as you do,” he mentions, ignoring Alfred’s glaring that tries to tell him to be careful of his words so you don’t take offense. “You are too interested in other cultures, other religions. It is not natural for a Christian woman to be like that.”

And instead of being offended at that, you chuckle and lean back in your seat. “Some would argue that fact. Some people would find my knowledge attractive, in a way,” you mention with a proud smile on your face.

Athelred chuckles and looks at Alfred. “People such as?”

“Ivar the Boneless.” That makes Athelred laugh and you shoot a cold glare at him. “He’s fascinated by the fact that I am interested in his people and his culture. And in the fact that I speak more than one language. 

“He is a pagan. The only thing he’s probably interested in is how to get you into his bed.”

“Athelred, please,” Alfred stops him when he notices the way your smile drops and you harshly push yourself to your feet. 

You glare coldly at the prince, unafraid of what he could do to you, the daughter of a farmer who got lucky thanks to King Ecbert. You know Alfred wouldn’t let anything bad happen to his translator. And Athelred wouldn’t dare pick a fight with you. Especially when you learned how to defend yourself with a knife from one of the cultures you once studied. 

Turning away from looking at him, you storm to the door and slam it behind you as you walk out the room. 

When you said that you accepted his offer for him to teach you more about his culture, Ivar thought he’d see you again tonight. But you didn’t come to his chambers, he didn’t find you walking around the halls. And he couldn’t stop thinking about that smile you have when you watch someone living out their life, different from what you’re used to. Ivar actually wonders if there is anything that you are used to, what with you learning about different cultures all the time. 

With everything quiet, the Great Hall dark and asleep, he crawls around the hallways, trying to get his mind off you so he can have his own chance at sleep. 

But he comes across a sight he never expected to see. 

You’re sitting on the ground in front of that tapestry of Jörmungandr, staring up at it with your legs crossed under you. He didn’t realize he had come here until he saw you. And he suddenly wishes he had put on his leg braces and used his crutch instead of dragging himself around on the ground. 

And when you turn your head toward him, he wishes he could disappear back into the darkness. But you don’t realize it’s him, and you turn your head back to the tapestry. Then it hits you and you gasp as your head snaps back to him. “King Ivar, I didn’t realize that it was you,” you whisper, starting to push yourself off the ground. 

“Stay,” he grunts, making you freeze before sitting back down on the ground. 

You watch him closely and he crawls closer to you and then sits beside you to look up at the tapestry. You slowly move your gaze back to the tapestry and breathe out a sigh when your eyes begin to follow the lines again. “Ever since I heard the stories of Jörmungandr, I saw him every time I sailed on a boat,” you begin to say, breaking the silence between you and Ivar, making him slowly turn his head towards you. “For some reason, stories of your Gods stuck with me more than those of other religions. More than the stories of Jesus Christ and God the Father,” you mention, looking down at your hands. 

You bite your lower lip, making Ivar take in a deep breath as you lift your head back up to the tapestry. Gods, he doesn’t think he’s seen anyone so magnificent as you before. “How did you hear stories of my Gods?” he asks after a moment of staring at you, his voice pulls your gaze away from the figure on the tapestry and you look at him. 

“King Ecbert told me a watered-down version of some stories,” you explain, smiling slightly at the memory. “A Northern he was close with told him those stories, and he, in turn, told them to me when I came to the castle. And since then, I grew up destined to be Alfred’s translator. Basically,” you explain with a chuckle as you turn your head back to the tapestry. 

Your words make his frown and he shifts slightly closer to you. “You grew up in the castle? I thought you said you’re the daughter of a farmer,” he questions, tilting his head to the side as you bite your lip and drop your head. 

Taking a deep breath, you stare down at your hands for a moment knowing that Ivar’s waiting for you to explain yourself. “My father was a farmer, I remember that. But, that’s all I remember of him,” you say, slowly turning your gaze back to Ivar. “When I was a child, I was found by one of Ecbert’s men wandering around the woods with a head injury and I was taken to him. He was the one that insisted I be taught how to read and write, even if the church was against it,” you explain with a small smile on your face. “I couldn’t speak English that well, but when I was taught Frankish, Ecbert was surprised at how quickly I picked it up, so he had me learn more language as I grew and he paired me with the future King and his grandson, Alfred.”

Ivar’s mouth drops slightly as a thought comes to mind. But he’s not sure how he can prove if his thought is true. You said you don’t remember much of your family, of your father. How could you remember if your father was, in fact, a Norse man that went to live in the settlements Ragnar built in Wessex?

Your story explains how a farmer’s daughter came to have so much knowledge and be a King’s translator. But it still leaves questions about your previous life before Ecbert’s men found you. And it’s that story Ivar’s more interested in as opposed to the other knowledge you have. 

“Do you have something from before you were found?” he asks, trying not to seem suspicious about what he wants to find out. 

You stare at him for a second before glancing down at your hands and biting your lip, trying to remember. “Well…” You shake your head and wave your hands to push the thought aside. “No. I didn’t-”

“Tell me,” he pushes, making you look back at him with an almost sad look in your eyes. 

You stay silent for a moment before looking back at the tapestry again. “What I had on me the day I was found was burned and I was told that it was to leave everything I had before in the past, and move forward towards the light of God,” you state, shaking your head to yourself and you sigh and look at Ivar again. “But I remember keeping something hidden, keeping it from being destroyed. And I kept it a secret ever since.”

“What is it?” he asks, moving closer to you so his face comes close to yours. But not as close as it had been earlier that day. 

Shaking your head, your head flickers over his shoulder for a second before looking back at him. “It’s in my chambers.”

Ivar gives you a smile and nods his head. “Can you show me?” he question, making you smile in return and stand to your feet. He turns so he’s on his hands and he follows you towards your chambers.

If Athelred saw you leading Ivar to your chambers now, he’d tell you about how this is all wrong and go on about the Christian morals. But you imagine that Ivar might tell him to shut his mouth, something you wouldn’t stop him from doing, truthfully. 

You allow Ivar to sit on a chair as you rummage through your chests and trunks, looking for the item you know is hidden right at the bottom. It’s just the thing of finding the right trunk. 

When you see the leather strap, you smile and pull the pendant out, sigh in relief and stare at the three triangles linked together. Turning to Ivar, you rest the pendant in your hand and start to walk towards him. “Sometimes, when I feel like I’m lost, I look at this pendant,” you mention, kneeling beside him but still staring at the pendant. “It’s almost as if it shows me the next step I must take.”

With that, you hand the pendant to Ivar. 

A breath catches in his throat to see the symbol. And it answers the question on his mind. 

You see the way he stares at the symbol, how his thumb brushes over it and how a smile makes the corner of his lips pull up. “You know what this symbol is,” you state more than ask when you realize the look of familiarity on his face. 

He nods his head and looks down at you. “It’s a Norse symbol?” you question, your eyebrows knitting together as you wait for him to respond. 

“It is Odin’s knot,” he whispers, looking back at the pendant in his hands as his thumb follows the triangles linked together. “It is a symbol of the transition between life and death and is thought to symbolize the power of the god to bind and unbind,” he explains, knowing that you’d appreciate that you’re learning something new. But maybe you’re learning too much.

You take it from his again and sink down to sit on your heels. “Odin’s knot,” you whisper to yourself. Staring down at the pendant, you shake your head to yourself. “I was a Northerner. My father…” You trail off, breathless as you close your hand around the pendant.

And instead of doing what Ivar thought you would do and shed some tears, you laugh and shake your head as you look up at him with a bright smile on your face. “That actually makes a lot of sense.”

Your laugh makes him smile and lift a curious eyebrow. “It does?” he asks, chuckling at your gleeful smile as you nod your head. “Like what?”

“Like how I don’t seem to agree with a lot of the Christian morals and how I haven’t since I was a child,” you start, looking away from the pendant and back up to him. “How I feel like I’m home the moment I walked through the city the first time. How everything feels familiar here in Kattegat. How I seem to find the Gods in everything,” you add, your eyes locking with his and he reaches for the pendant in your hands again. 

“Like Jörmungandr in the sea,” he states with a chuckle, making you nod and laugh. 

He slips the pendant over your head and makes it fall to your chest where his fingers end up tracing, making a breath catch in your throat. “Or Thor in every thunderstorm, beating his hammer,” you whisper, biting your lip as his hand rests at the base of your throat. “Or Freya in every kiss.”

Ivar smirks and raises his hand to cup your cheek. “Every kiss?” he questions, keeping your gaze on him as he slowly leans forward. 

You nod your head. “Like I said, I didn’t agree with a lot of the Christian morals,” you whisper, making him chuckle before he leads your lips to his. 

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[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: The One He Chose

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Summary: The married life of a violent Viking and a meek nun.

Part One

Part Two

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

It had been two years since Ivar had decided to keep you.

Gone were your days of doing chores in the church, and enjoying your fellow sisters. Now you were in a foreign cold country surrounded by complete strangers that followed a religion you wanted nothing to do with.

If the physical displacement wasn’t hard enough to adjust to you also had to come to terms with the fact you were now married to a very violent heathen.

At first you had tried to be optimistic; you would still have your religion and faith, your beloved kingdom was safe and maybe you could even learn a few things about these pagans. Those had been your hopes but they were foolish and downright naive.

Even before you had set foot on the boat Ivar made sure you knew that he wouldn’t tolerate your faith at all. He threw your cross into a fire and would scold you like a child no matter who was present. 

Ivar had also made it clear that he was in charge, he planned the wedding and did not ask your opinion on a single thing. He told you what would happen and what you were expected to say and do and that was the end of it. What a nightmare your wedding was, your dress wasn’t modest in any sense and blood from a lamb was poured on you.

Your wedding night had been even worse.

Despite how you had tried to explain that you were a woman of the church, in other words a virgin, he did not care at all. He was rough and completely ignored your protests and cries.

All of that horror had happened after he and his brothers had killed King Ecbert and before you had even arrived in his kingdom, Kattegat.

Once you arrived Ivar lead you to his estate and assigned you a servant who would teach you his language and the stories of his Gods. He forbid you from leaving his home until you were able to speak Norse fluently.

In your time of learning Ivar wasn’t exactly patient with you, he would often call you stupid for taking so long to learn. Ivar didn’t care who was around when he would berate your intelligence; be it his brothers, visiting Earls and Jarls or even just the thralls who kept the house.

When you finally were able to leave home to carry out the wifely duties that Ivar had placed on you the whole of Kattegat was already aware of how you were treated. You almost hated the looks of pity more than the looks of smugness from people who thought you deserved the abuse because of your faith.

Ivar was truly horrible, you sometimes thought his name should have been Ivar the Horrible, not Boneless.

If all Ivar was to you was abusive it would have been easier, then you would know exactly what to expect with him, but Ivar was not an easy person to understand.

He would humiliate and verbally abuse you all day, then at night he would climb on top of you and have his way with your body, but after he was something else.

After he had satisfied his primal needs he would lie beside your bruised body and speak to you in a soft voice about his mother and how she had always wanted to see all her sons find wives. 

The first few times he had done this you were touched and you thought maybe he wasn’t the monster he appeared to be, but it didn’t take him long to sour that as well. When he would catch you praying he would speak on how his beautiful mother would have hated having you as a daughter in law.

He would say that so much that at some point it stopped hurting, then one day you looked up and you found that you were now accustomed to this horrid life that you lived.

You would wake up alone, be dressed by thralls and then walk into the dining hall to have first meal with Ivar where you would refrain from praying over your food, then Ivar would go off on his business and you would run the household. After the last meal you would retire to your bed chamber then sometime later a drunk Ivar would come in to mount you then whisper his soft words until he fell asleep.

Everyday it was the same, walking on eggshells trying not to provoke your husband’s anger and taking whatever abuse he had to offer that day.

There were times, when you would sit outside and sew, you would think about just walking to the docks and climbing onto a boat but you knew you never could. Ivar would take it as a great offense and would take his anger out on your kingdom.

So you stayed.

Now you are in the great hall at the high table with your husband, brothers in law and their wives.

Tonight there was to be a sacrifice to pray that the harvest be rich this spring, and your stomach was far too uneasy to eat.

Ivar was having none of it.

‘Why do you not eat? Do you want people to say I do not feed you?’ he hissed.

‘I am simply not hungry, my husband.’ you mumbled.

‘Eat, you are making me appear to be a cruel husband.’ he said angrily.

Not that Ivar noticed, but the cheerful atmosphere of the entire high table was immediately altered by the tone he used with his wife.

None of them agreed with the way he treated you, but any attempts they made to speak to him ended with him being even angrier with you for days on end because you made people think ill of him.

‘I am sorry.’ you said softly as you picked up a piece of bread and took a small piece.

Ivar went back to his drink and found that everyone was staring at him in distaste, and like always it angered him.

‘Good. Now the night has been soured before the sacrifice.’ he snarled.

You again apologized for spoiling the mood and offered to retire so that he and his family could enjoy the feast and festivities, you had no desire to see the sacrifice any how.

‘No you will stay and watch the sacrifice, do you not want us to have a rich harvest? Does your Christ God say that we should starve this year?’

‘Of course not, but if my presence is spoiling your mood then I will leave if you wish it.’ you tried to placate him.

‘What kind of husband doesn’t want his wife by his side? You will sit here, you will eat and enjoy the sacrifice. Am I understood?’ he threatened.

‘Yes.’ you submitted as you lowered your head.

The rest of the family turned back to their own conversations, except Ubbe.

He was more like his father than the rest of his brothers in the sense that he didn’t hate the Christians. Ubbe saw no point in being overly violent with the Christians when they went out on raids or even with the Christian thralls at his own estate. He really didn’t like how horrid his younger brother treated you at all, but he saw trying to tell Ivar this only made him worse.

Even he as the eldest couldn’t tell another free man how to treat his wife.

For the next hour or so you nibbled at your plate and tried to be as invisible as you could, speaking to no one, not even raising your head to look around the hall.

At last Bjorn stood and announced that it was time to step out into the courtyard for the sacrifice to take place. 

Everyone else hurried out but you had to wait by Ivar as he stood up on his braces and crutches, he was still getting used to them. You were genuinely happy when he first showed you his new mode of transportation, but in the end it too made your husband irritable. The pain of the metal braces would make Ivar complain, and any offer you made to help made him think you saw him as weak.

Once Ivar was on his feet you followed behind him as he made his way to the front of the crowd, he wanted to be sure that he, and you, got a good view.

You took a small comfort in the fact that no Chiristians were ever sacrificed to the pagan Gods, the heathens felt their Gods would be insulted by having a non-believer sacrificed to them.

Still you hated the human sacrifices, no matter how many of them you had seen you still didn’t like to see another human die.

This time it was a man, you had seen him around town buying things for his family. You didn’t know him but that didn’t make watching him die any less horrible.

Bjorn gave the usual speech, asking the Gods for their favor, then he raised his ax and with one swift swing he ended a life.

You tried not to flinch at the sound of it but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t need to look over to know that Ivar was smiling. You kept your eyes closed as the crowd cheered in celebration, and felt Ivar move toward the blood bowl and took a sip like always and dipped his fingers in before he walked over to you.

‘May the blood of this sacrifice allow you to bear fruit as well wife.’ he said before flinging the blood onto your face.

You felt sick to your stomach and wanted nothing more than to wipe off the human blood and just go to bed and leave this day in the past.

‘If I may retire to the estate my husband, I do not feel too well.’ you requested.

Ivar rolled his eyes in annoyance but eventually he nodded and dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

You hurried off away from the festivities waiting until you were sure you were out of sight completely to wipe the blood off your skin.

As you walked you strayed from the trail back to your estate and into the woods, you had found a small clearing not long after you had began to explore your new home. It was in the spot perfectly between Ivar’s lands and Ubbe’s so none of the thralls Ivar had spying on you traveled out this far.

You used this space to pray whenever you could get away from your husband.

Like usual you kneeled at a tree stump and brought your hands together for prayer.

‘Dear Father, how I have missed speaking to you like this. I wish I could pray to you everyday as I once did, but my husband will not allow it, even now I disobey him to speak with you.’ you started.

‘My Lord, everyday I find it harder to live on this earth with that man and I ask you as a mere servant… please give me some sign of your presence here. Surrounded by such horror and paganism it is becoming harder to have faith, and now my faith is all I have left. I fear that I can’t survive this world without my faith.’ you sobbed.

You soon began uncontrollably crying as two years of sadness hit you all at once, you could barely get it together enough to stand up and be on your way back to the trail.

Just as you had gotten on your feet you heard a rustle coming from behind you, immediately you reached for the dagger Ivar insisted you carry at all times.

The noise became louder and it became clear that this was not just an animal moving around but a person approaching you.

You got ready to defend yourself when at last Ubbe stepped into the clearing.

‘Ubbe! You nearly scared me to death!’ you whined, clutching your heart as you willed it to slow down.

‘Sorry, I departed shortly after you and decided to see to it that you got home safe, our soldiers get a bit too bold during a good feast.’ the Ragnarson explained.

‘Well thank you for your concern, but I am fine. I will be on my way.’ you said quickly, moving to walk away but Ubbe caught you by your wrist.

‘You were praying.’

A panic took hold of your heart, you had hoped he hadn’t heard your prayers.

‘P-please don’t tell him.’ you begged as your eyes began to water once again.

If Ivar heard about you praying to your Christian God he would be angry with you for at least two weeks, and that’s if you’re lucky.

‘Do not cry, I will not tell him. Just let me walk you home, to make sure you are safe.’

You let out a cry of relief, and as Ubbe led you back to the pathway you tried to recenter yourself. Ubbe was a good man, and from what you heard from Margrethe he was a good husband.

Though his marriage to the former thrall wasn’t by any means Christ like, seeing how he shared her with Hvitserk, but he was always kind and trusting.

Nothing like your husband who you now truly believed didn’t have a single kind bone in his body, and if he did it was probably one of the broken ones.

At last you two were at your door, you thanked him for his kindness.

‘I don’t consider ensuring your safety a kindness, it is a decency.’

‘I haven’t been shown much decency since I was brought here, so I do thank you. I hope you return home safely as well.’ you said.

‘Goodnight (Y/N).’ he bid farewell as you went inside.

Inside your home you head towards the chamber you shared with Ivar and found two thralls already there waiting to help you undress and get ready for bed. Removing Viking clothes is so much more time consuming than your old attire.

Once you were in your nightgown and your hair was unbraided you sent the girls away and got into your bed.

Silently you prayed, you had come to learn that most of the thralls doubled as spies for Ivar, and they felt no guilt telling him you were disobeying.

You weren’t sure when you drifted off or how long you had been asleep before you were rudely awoken by Ivar stumbling into the room and drunkenly falling into the bed.

‘Wife!’ he shouted.

You sighed and sat up, you already knew where this was going. So you stood up and moved to stand in front of him and began removing his leg braces.

Ivar only let two people do this for him, his personal healer and you. He would say he thought only a man’s wife should take care of him, but you knew he didn’t want anyone else seeing his legs.

You finally got them off and put them away while Ivar got undressed.

‘Come to bed.’

With a sigh you walked back to stand in front of your husband, and like he always did he ripped off your clothes and threw you onto the bed.

You don’t even bother trying to fight him anymore, he overpowers you physically, then once he is done he will lecture you on how evil you are for not wanting him as a wife should want her husband.

Ivar climbed on top of you, and with no gentleness he forced himself into your body and you let out a cry of pain. Your womanhood still hurt, it always hurt because Ivar would do this every night. 

At last he pulled himself out of you finished over your belly before he rolled over, you took the wet cloth from the bedside table and cleaned yourself.

‘In three days I will be leaving Kattegat to make arrangements with the Earl of Gotaland. If all goes well he and his soldiers will stand by me when I attack Hedeby next spring.’ Ivar said.

You were filled with a sensation you hadn’t felt in so long you could barely recognize it, joy.

‘How long will you be away.?’ you asked, trying not to sound excited.

‘If it were to go smoothly then at least two weeks time, but if what I’ve heard about this Earl is true then maybe a month.’ he informed.

A whole month without Ivar’s abuse.

‘I will be busy with preparations for the journey, so I will not be around as much. I will need you to make sure all my personal belongings are properly packed, as well as managing the home.’ Ivar said.

‘Of course.’ you said as you turned over.

Ivar sat there and watched you for a while and thought about how Bjorn would talk about his first wife, Thorunn, who would shower him in her love and affection whenever he left Kattegat for any amount of time.

He was eager to tell you that he was leaving, so that he could hear you go on about how much you will miss him, but you didn’t do that.

You just turned your back to him and went to sleep, as if you didn’t even care that he would be leaving.

Ivar’s stare became hard and angry before he leaned down and whispered into your ear.

‘My mother would have hated you...she was the only one in this world is whoever truly loved me.’ he hissed before he rolled over.

The next days were spent gathering everything Ivar would need on his journey; his clothes, weapons, oils for his braces, his bathtub and other things. Once that was done you spoke with all the thralls and let them know that they would report to you now.

Ivar was spending his time speaking with the men he would travel with, making sure all of them were on the same page, and preparing his battle tactic should things go horribly wrong. If your husband was anything it was prepared for the worst.

On the third day everything was chaos, you and Ivar running around getting the last minute things taken care of, double checking that everything was in order. It wasn’t until nightfall that you were both sure everything was ready, in the morning they could load up the carts and be on their way.

Honestly you were eager for sleep, tomorrow would be your first day of freedom.

Ivar came into the room very tiredly and you removed his braces then he used you like he always did, but this time he did not stop.

He did not stop until the sun was raising and thralls began knocking on the door to tell him that they were beginning to load up the carts. By the time he got off of you and began getting dressed you felt so sore and tired you were surprised you could even move.

While you were being dressed Ivar watched you, his beautiful wife. He would often look at you and think back to the day that he decided he would take you as his wife. You hadn’t even mentioned his legs, and that was always the first thing about him people noticed and spoke about.

He knew in that moment you were the woman for him; you were beautiful, and clearly saw him past his disability. Sure you praised a false God, but he could change that, and of course sometimes you would turn away from his touch but he knew how to make love to you.

Last night he had made love to you all night long, after all this would be the first time the two of you would be apart for more than several hours. Ivar wanted the night to be the best it could be and wanted it to be one to remember.

Once you and Ivar were outside you could see the other men loading their own carts; their wives kissing them and praying for their return, their children hugging their knees.

It was truly a heartwarming sight, and Ivar saw it as well.

When Ivar had married you he wanted to immediately fill you with his children, but the time wasn’t right, he could not give his wife or child his full attention. Not with Lagertha still breathing, taunting him with her very existence, no he needed to avenge his mother first.

For now he would bask in the love of his wife.

He looked over at his wife, but she just kept looking around at the other families, practically ignoring him.

‘Wife.’ he said getting your attention.

You looked over at him and kept your face from twisting in distaste.

‘Yes Ivar.’

Ivar looked up at you and waited for you to wish him a safe journey or kiss him...anything to show you would miss him.

You stared at him and he stared back, him waiting on you to tell him you didn’t want him to leave, and you waiting for him to tell you what he wanted.

After about a moment he finally realized you would not say sweet things to him like the other wives and he turned away from you angrily and got in his cart.

Completely confused as to how you had upset him this time you watched him sit his crutches down beside him in the cart. The other men finally got onto their own carts and finally they began their journey.

You watched Ivar’s cart the whole time as it went down the path, you watched until you couldn’t see it anymore. If only to make sure he was really truly gone, that he wouldn’t just turn around and come back as soon as you looked away.

‘Mistress?’ one of the thralls finally spoke.

‘Yes, let us return home.’ you said.

As you walked back to your estate you kept your head low to hide your smile.

Ivar was gone you walked around the house giving orders and the first one you gave was to the cooks. You requested porridge, chicken and fruits, the standard meal from the church. You hadn’t had porridge since you married Ivar, he wanted you to eat like a viking and vikings ate meat and vegetables.

In the days that followed you would assign the tasks to the thralls and then go out and sit in for Ivar in the great hall. You would hear the men scoff whenever you spoke, clearly not respecting what you have to say as not only a woman, but also as a Christian.

You did not care, because at the end of the day you were still Ivar’s wife and Ivar was a very violent man who was easy to insult. No one in Kattegat would ever be so bold as to publicly disrespect his wife.

After the official business was done you would go to the markets, or maybe just a stroll through the woods so you could have your own private little mass.

One day as you were preparing to take the body of Christ Ubbe came into the clearing.

‘I saw you heading out here.’ he said.

‘Are you going to make a habit of watching me, I doubt Margrethe would appreciate that.’ you smiled.

You already knew Ubbe would not tell Ivar what you were doing here, in all honesty it was great to be open about your religion with someone.

‘She is with Hvitserk today, she will not mind whatever I do.’ Ubbe dismissed.

‘Your views on marriage are so strange to me, even after all this time.’ 

‘I am sure your Christian marriage customs are just as odd to me.’ he smiled.

‘I guess you are right, besides I should get used to heathen marriage since I am married to one.’ you sighed as you sat on a fallen tree.

‘Not all marriages are like yours (Y/N), not all husbands are as cruel as Ivar.’ Ubbe said, sitting beside you.

‘I can see that, in the way other women sit by their husbands and speak so boldly to them...I wish I could speak with so much confidence.’ you said as you picked at the dead bark.

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Ivar would lose his temper.’

‘He’s not here is he? Ivar is miles and miles away, looking for warriors to fight against Lagertha.’ Ubbe grinned as he moved to stand in front of you.

‘Go on, yell at me...as if I were Ivar.’ 

You looked up at him, fighting a smile, you wanted to do this, it would be so nice to do this. Like a massive weight lifted off your chest.

‘Y-you are too mean.’ you said softly.

‘What was that wife? I cannot hear you.’ Ubbe said, mocking Ivar’s voice in a way that made you giggle like a child.

‘I said you are mean.’ you said louder this time.

‘And...you never let me choose our meals, or make any decisions of my own. I have to request what you order me to request, be where you tell me.’ you continued.

‘Keep going.’

‘I hate how you talk...you are always either whispering or yelling there is never an in between. I hate how everything I say and do is an insult to you!’ you shouted, standing up.

‘You always yell at me like a child, it’s humiliating!’

‘Let it all out!’ Ubbe encouraged.

‘I-I hate how you touch me!’ you yelled at the top of your lungs.

‘Woah.’ Ubbe said taken back a bit.

‘You are always too rough, it is disgusting and feels horrible!’ 

You took a deep breath and in that moment you realized you were yelling these things at Ubbe, things that he probably didn’t want to know at all.

‘I’m sorry.’ you squeaked out an apology.

‘It is fine.’ Ubbe smiled.

‘No that was unacceptable, I should not have told you that. That information should be kept private, I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.’ you said.

‘No it is fine really...but if I may ask, is Ivar really being too rough with you?’

‘...yes.’ you confessed.

‘Back home, I was so thankful for the church. No man ever laid hands on women of the church,  we took vows of celibacy.’

‘My father told me about this. You wait until you are married to have sex.’ Ubbe said.

‘Nuns swear not to marry; their hearts, bodies and souls belong to their church and their God. I never wanted to marry at all Ubbe, but then the decision was made for me and even that forced marriage wasn’t Christlike.’ you said.

You sat back down and lowered your gaze to your lap, and chose to ignore the tears that hit your skirts.

‘Hey.’ Ubbe said as he kneeled in front of you and took your hand in his own.

‘I hate this marriage Ubbe, I hate everything about it. The man I’m married to, the wifely duties, the thralls, the estate...the sex. I hate the sex so much.’ you cried.

You cried for what like hours but was probably only a few minutes.

‘What uh...what does Ivar do? What makes the sex so bad, if you don’t ask mind me asking.’

‘Well...he comes in while I’m asleep, then he yells until I wake up, that’s when I take off his braces, then he’ll climb on top of me and have his way.’ you explained.

‘Have his way?’ 

You nodded.

‘Does he ever try to...make you feel good in anyway?’ he asked.

You shook your head.

‘If he has then I surely took no notice.’

‘Does he...ever kiss you?’

Again you shook your head.

‘Never.’

‘Never?’

‘Not once, a wife who has never felt her husband’s lips.’ you sighed.

‘What about touching you? Holding you? Anything?’ Ubbe asked.

‘What are you speaking of?’ you asked in complete confusion, you had no idea what your brother in law was talking about.

‘I mean has he ever treated your body the way it should be treated, touched you the way a woman needs.’

‘I don’t even know what you are talking about Ubbe.’ you admitted.

Ubbe looked down at your hands in his then he looked back up at you.

‘May I?’ he asked raising his hand.

You looked at him, confused but accepting.

He brought his hand up and lightly ran his fingers up and down your neck, barely touching you, just enough for you to feel it.

‘Has Ivar ever kissed you here?’

‘N-no, he’s bitten me a few times I think.’

‘How about here?’ he said, placing his hand on you collar bone.

You took his hand and spread it out over your neck, so it looked as if he was going to choke you.

‘He pins me down like this some nights when I try to back away from him.’ you said.

Ubbe shook his head with a sad sigh.

‘If this is what Ivar has been doing with you then you are no less a virgin now than you were before he chose you. You are a virgin until you enjoy the sex you are having.’ he said.

‘I hear the other women speak of sex so fondly, and though it is a sin I become envious of them.’

‘Would you like to...try it?’ Ubbe offered.

‘Try what?’

‘Sex, enjoyable sex.’ he clarified.

Oh.

Your face went red as you prepared to say no but the word wouldn’t come out. Deep in your heart you knew that you wanted to try having sex that you would enjoy, but it would be adulterous.

Ubbe was your brother in law no less, could God forgive such a sin? Then again was your marriage even real in the Lord’s eyes, it wasn’t done in his ways, maybe it could be premarital sex?

No! You could not do this, and you are going to tell Ubbe this!

‘Y-yes.’ you said so softly even you yourself barely heard it.

Ubbe smiles before he began leaning into you.

‘If you want me to stop just tell me.’ He said before he kissed you.

You never told him to stop, he touched you in ways Ivar never had and he was gentle. That day you truly felt like a woman, like you had truly lost your  virginity.

Ubbe let you explore his body as well as your own, he would run his hand over your body to see which parts of you were most sensitive. You would touch him and try the things you’d hear the other women talk about and he would tell you if he liked it.

It was practically educational.

After that day your entire schedule had changed each afternoon you would send the thralls back to the estate to do their chores then you would meet Ubbe in the clearing.

The place where you once worshiped God had become the place where you would commit all kinds of sins with Ubbe. Everyday you would try something new, touching a new place, or a different position. You were learning what you like and Ubbe was always there and willing to help you discover new things.

You never wanted this to end, finally you were seeing a silver lining in the stormy cloud that was living among heathens. Now you truly had the freedom to do as you pleased, in a way that you never had back in your tiny kingdom.

In your heart you were still a Christian, but you were choosing to believe God was forgiving. It was so much harder to ignore the temptation in a place where no one sees anything they are doing as wrong.

Ubbe was also encouraging you to be more expressive and to make decisions for yourself, like choosing clothes you liked and speaking whenever you had something to say.

You still wondered what exactly Ubbe had told his wife about what was going on between the two of you, Margrethe didn’t seem too fond of you, but then again she never was to begin with.

All good things come to an end however, you had been told by an envoy that Ivar’s party was spotted about two days ride away.

With your husband’s inevitable return, you needed to make sure you and Ubbe were on the same page. You were fairly certain that none of the thralls were aware of your rendezvous, and you didn’t want Ubbe to let Ivar become aware of your affair.

‘Well...what are we trying today?’ Ubbe asked as he came into the clearing, already removing his tunic.

‘Nothing...Ubbe, Ivar is returning.’ you told him.

‘I heard, so if you have any other things you’d like to try out-’

‘Ubbe!’ you gasped.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘We can’t do this anymore, don’t you understand? Ivar is coming back and if he heard so much as a word of this he would kill us both.’ you explained.

Ubbe walked up to you and took your hand in his, same as he had weeks ago, when all this had started.

‘I would never tell him, and I would never let him hurt you (Y/N)...not ever.’ 

‘What can you do to stop him Ubbe? The larger part of the Great Army follow him, he has trusted spies walking all over Kattegat, the only reason they haven’t caught us is because he took the best of them with him. He has the men, the money and the mind to kill anyone he pleases.’

He didn’t have an argument for that, everything you had said was true. Ivar was crazy, the way he thought was unlike any other man in this world, and he had the means to do as he pleased to whoever pleased.

‘I will hold the memories of all we have done close to my heart forever, and I pray that God will forgive all of my sins. I must prepare for my husband’s return, this will be the last time I come here, with Ivar returning I will be being watched just as before.’ you said.

‘(Y/N).’ Ubbe said, placing a kiss on your forehead.

‘Even if you are right, remember that you are his wife, and you are a free woman. If he ever hurts you then you have the right to ask for divorce, Bjorn is the King now. The army is bound to him by their armrings, do not just let Ivar rule over you anymore.’ he advised.

You knew you could never take that advice, it would get you killed, but still you nodded. If only to make Ubbe feel better.

‘If this is our last evening together, then let us enjoy it.’ he said as he lowered himself onto his knees and pushed up your skirts.

You gasped in surprise before you let your head fall back in pleasure, deciding to enjoy  this last day of freedom before you returned to your chains.

That day you were surprised you could even walk back to the estate, your legs were still so weak. Honestly all you wanted to do once you were home was bathe and sleep, but that wasn’t an option, you had to prepare the home for Ivar tell the cooks to prepare his favorite meal and tell the healers to have all of Ivar’s usual treatments ready, and give the thralls a few last minute tasks.

As tired as you were sleep was evasive, tomorrow you would have to go back to walking on the eggshells of Ivar’s temper. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but when you were woken up by a thrall you were still dead tired.

One of the girls picked out a dress for you, the brown dress, Ivar had picked it out for you when he first brought you here, it was his favorite dress to see you in. 

You hated it.

‘Not that one, give the blue one, and I want the silver jewelry.’ you said.

‘Mistress, the master is returning today.’ the girl said. 

‘I know, give me the blue dress and the silver jewelry.’ you said firmly.

You were filled with dread even as you were bathed you were meant to be at the docks, waiting with the other wives to see your husband’s safe return. Ivar didn’t like you wearing bright colors, he said it drew other men to look at you in a way no man other than he had any right to.

As you walked to the square you did see a few men spare you a glance, but you didn’t shy away from the attention. You really like this dress, you had it commissioned by one of the best dressmakers in Kattegat.

All the women and children around you were buzzing with excitement, ready to see their beloved husbands and fathers returning home safely. How you wished you could have felt the same way they all did, but how could you?

‘Please, My Lord...be with me in my time of troubles, for one is approaching.’ you whispered as you saw the party approaching the square, Ivar’s cart right in front.

Still as a stone you stone you stood as the other women ran to their husbands’ carts and wagons, even when your husband’s cart was right in front of you and the thralls were going to open the door you remained still.

Ivar’s eyes landed on you, his beautiful wife, with shining eyes, but they lost some of their happiness when he saw what you were wearing.

‘Wife...what are you wearing?’ he asked as he was helped out of the cart, leaning against it while waiting for the thrall inside to hand him his crutch.

You didn’t recognize this thrall.

‘Who is she?’ you asked instead of answering.

Ivar glared, he noticed that you had not only avoided his question, but had even gone so far as to question him.

‘This is Freydis, a thrall I received from the Earl, given to me in good faith.’ he said.

You looked the slave over, and saw her beautiful face and even in thin ragged clothes you could tell she had a gorgeous body. Even now as they were reuniting with their wives some were looking at the thrall at Ivar’s side.

‘Of course...good faith.’ you said plainly.

Ivar didn’t like this tone of yours, not at all. He had just returned after being away for a month and he was ready to have his wife run up to cry how much she had missed him. While away he managed to forgive her not being sadder to see him, maybe she didn’t truly believe that he was really going, but surely now that he’d been gone so long she should be happy to see him.

She should be wearing his favorite dress for her, she should be kissing him the way the other wives did their husbands. Instead she was in this ridiculous blue dress that she no doubt bought with his money, and questioning his faithfulness. 

‘Come, I wish to see the house, make sure it as it was when I left...since my wife has clearly changed.’ he snarled, looking you dead in the eye.

‘I apologize if I am behaving strange...Husband.’ you apologized, as you would have before, but you didn’t lower your head.

You looked him in the eye as you spoke, something you could rarely do before, but now it felt easier.

Ivar instructed the thralls to remove his items from the cart and have them brought to the estate while you, he and Freydis walked. He said he wanted the new thrall to become better acquainted with the house since she’d apparently be your personal thrall.

At that you had no reaction, and Ivar noticed it.

He did not like the way you were acting, he had brought you a thrall as a gift, he had safely returned home with even more warriors to fight against his mother’s killer. Ivar had missed her from the moment he got in the cart, and he couldn’t wait to be back in her arms.

Even when the Earl had gifted him with Freydis he knew it was meant to be a bed warmer, but even a beautiful woman like her could compare to his wife in his eyes. Freydis spoke words of encouragement, about how his deformity was a gift from the Gods and how he was greater for having them. Those words had truly touched him, but they were not what he needed to hear.

When he thinks back on the day he first saw his wife in that unimportant kingdom and saw her standing up to a king on behalf of the other women he admired her bravery, then when he met her in his tent and she figured out his little life or death mind game he was impressed by her intelligence.

He knew she was the perfect wife when he asked her what she thought of him and she spoke of how she feared him she said nothing about his legs. She spoke to him as she would have spoken to a man standing nine feet tall man, not some cripple who couldn’t chase her if she tried to run.

Even once they were married she never mentioned his legs or let her eyes linger on them the way others always did. She treated him like a man and he loved her for that, for the way she feared and respected him.

Now she was treating him as if he wasn’t anything important to her, even the fear in her eyes were gone.

Something had to have happened while he was gone, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to find out what it was.

[meetthefantasticmrfox]

The Librarians Chapter 2

Holy mushrooms this took off quick. Special thanks to all of you who have liked and reblogged, even to my first follower! This really made my day!

Anyways! uhm Chapter 1 is here...

The Librarians Chapter 1

Hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it and if you have gone and read my other posts this is not the story I was talking about in my Intellectual Genius post, that one I am still writing and haven’t really found time in my surprisingly busy day. 

Have fun and here are some warnings and other do-dads!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: Jeremy has ended up in the hospital, somewhere he cannot afford finacially to be and his employee Logan Constell has been running the library between very frequent visits to his sickbed along with Jeremy’s parents and little brother.

Pairings: Loceit, and Parental Remile.

Warnings: Swearing, hospital scenes, mentions of sexual abuse and alcohol, very angsty chapter this one, and just let me know if I need to add.

Alternate Universes/Headcannons: Human Au, Vitiligo Headcannon for Janus, Sibling Headcannon for Virgil & Janus

Janus=Jeremy for you first time readers

Virgil=Victor (middle name is Virgilius or Virgil so he goes by that)

Enjoy!

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The last thing Jeremy remembered was falling from that ladder and the sunset following him down to a sure injury. He didn’t know if Logan’s confession had made him fall or the distraction of the sun in his eyes but whatever had caused it had led him to cause nerve damage in his left leg.

“You’ll need extensive physical therapy and a brace with crutches, maybe even a wheel-chair for a while afterwards.” That’s what the doctors had told him at least. Nothing about any heart or bodily problems other than his leg unfortunately. 

“The bills are far too high for anyone with your lifestyle and salary to afford.” Logan said in one of his visits. Jeremy hadn’t said a single thing to him out of all the week he had visited. He was aware he wouldn’t be able to afford his therapy or medical care and the thought of being a crippled on the streets of Florida seemed to have paralyzed his tongue along with his leg for the time being. Jeremy hadn’t been able to move it even a centimetre in over thirty-six hours which wasn’t exactly a good sign according to the doctors. Now it was seventy-two hours which was even more concerning. So concerning that Jeremy hadn’t even really slept the past few nights.

“I...I’m sorry for what happened with the ladder.” Logan said pointlessly.

“I knew better.” Jeremy said in response quickly, despite the dried lips and hoarse vocal cords for not have spoken in over three days.

“Pardon me?” Logan was shocked to have heard him speak.

“I. Knew. Better.” Jeremy repeated slowly and louder. Logan stayed quiet this time having sensed a sharper tone in his employers voice. 

The two sat there in silence for several minuets before something miraculous happened. The door opened and instead of a doctor walking in a man with summer green eyes and hair in a sand colored over coat with a cotton candy pink undershirt and glasses. He wore equally sand colored pants and sleek black shoes. In followed another man with pitch black hair and eyes like the night sky wearing a simple white shirt and leather jacket with dark jeans and tennis shoes. The man in black had smooth milk chocolate skin much like Jeremy.

“Oh my!” The man in tan had a higher pitched voice than Logan had expected and he had covered his mouth as soon as he saw Jeremy. His face paled just the slightest bit and tears began to coat his green irises.

“Em, calm down the doctors said he was fine for the most part.” The man with the night-like eyes muttered to the one named ‘Em’ and touched a broad hand to the other’s shoulder.

“That’s our boy Remy! How can you not be upset right now?!” Em looked at the other with a hint of anger in his teared eyes.

“Dads please don’t fight right now.” Jeremy snarled before the one named Remy could reply.

They both paused and stared at the librarian.

“Logan, meet my parents. Emile is trans and got surgery after having me. He’s a therapist for the recently traumatized and this is Remy, my birth father. He’s a businessman for a string of coffee shops known as Sleepy Time Teas and Wonderful Morning Coffees.” Jeremy sighed and gestured towards the two men. Emile shyly waved at the man sitting down while Remy barley gave him a single glance.

“Is he your...?” Before Emile could finish the question Jeremy cut him off abruptly.

“No, he works for me at Hawthorne.” 

“Oh, well it’s nice to meet you...uhm Logan was it?” Emile scooted over to shake hands with the intellectual who politely took the gesture.

“So what’d you do?” Remy said dully and waved a hand towards the non-moving leg.

“I fell.” Jeremy said simply and didn’t show signs of enjoying this visit.

“Y’know we’re your parents and you should show a little more respect with that voice of yours.” Remy snarled at his son. 

Jeremy just glared at Remy with such intensity flames might as well have burned in his dark green eyes.

“Remy calm down, he’s hurt and probably under a lot of stress with the library and the medical bills. He might never walk right again.” Emile hurriedly said before a fight broke out.

Logan checked his watch, sensing the building tension between Jeremy and his family. “Well I must go back to the library. My lunch break is nearly over.” and with that Logan rushed out. Jeremy would never admit he was kind of ashamed that his family feud drove his employee away.

Once Logan was gone the flood gates opened. Emile started truly crying and stifling it best he could while Remy fumed about how disrespectful Jeremy had always been.

This continued for a few minuets before Jeremy broke.

“JUST SHUT UP!” His voice stopped everything. Remy’s eyes widened in shock and Emile had jumped so hard he had stood up.

“I am PARALYZED in my bed and you are complaining on my TONE?! I have medical bills piling up to my neck while I have a salary of barely a thousand a year and you don’t even bother to ask me how I feel!” Jeremy lid off the sheets and moved best he could, dragging his numb leg with him as he attempted to stand. 

“Jeremy ju-” Emile started.

“Don’t get involved Emile. It’s about time he showed some backbone.” Remy snarled.

“No! Let him get involved. He’s the therapist for trauma and you’re just a coffee and tea maker!” Jeremy shot at him.

“Jeremy you shouldn’t speak to your father like that!” Emile hurriedly said before Remy could say anything. “And you shouldn’t be standing, for Christ sake sit back down you look like you’re about to faint!” 

“I’m fine.” Jeremy said through gritted teeth and just about that time there was a high pitched ring and Jeremy staggered and nearly fell but gripped the railing of his hospital bed. His numb leg drug on the ground and he looked down at it with the remainder of his vision before the door opened again and a doctor and nurse rushed in.

“Why is he standing?!” The doctor and nurse immediately gathered Jeremy and laid him back down on the bed as sleep claimed him again.

~ Time Skip ~

Logan came back a few days afterwards when Jeremy was supposed to start physical therapy. Apparently Emile and Remy had covered . Emile had sent Remy away and someone new had arrived. The new person was much smaller and younger than Jeremy and Logan suspected maybe a close cousin or even brother. He had jet black hair and big deer-like brown eyes. He had stared at Logan strangely when he first came in like he was analyzing him looking for a threat. The boy had eventually calmed down and looked back at his phone. Jeremy was busy talking to Emile about something Logan could not hear.

“He’s my employer.” Logan said abruptly. The boy next to him jumped at the sound of someone talking to him.

“H-he’s my brother. Uhm adopted. I am.” The deer-eyed boy said shakily and made staggering eye contact with Logan. 

“Logan.” The intellectual introduced himself quietly.

“Virgil.” Virgil answered back quietly. “My real name’s Victor, Virgilius is my middle name.” 

“Like the Roman Poet?” Logan asked slyly. Logan had always been a bit looser around people younger than him. He had been a teenager once, he understood them a bit better than adults. He was just now getting to be one.

“I guess. I write poetry in my spare time but it’s pretty dark.” Virgil shrugged and seemed to relax just as Logan had.

“Do you have your notes?” The librarian slowly asked.

Virgil slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small purple notepad with a hand-drawn skull with a stormcloud with a lightning bolt behind it. Before Virgil could flip the notepad open Logan spoke again.

“Did you draw this?” He seemed amazed.

“Uh....yeah actually. It’s a therapy method Jeremy taught me. Channeling your feelings into art or words. Poetry and art are kinda fun I guess.” The boy said slowly.

“It’s astonishing accurate for a high school student.” Logan complimented.

“Yeah.” Virgil looked down at his realistic drawing and seemed to smile slightly.

“Were you and Jeremy close?” Logan asked warily.

“Yeah, I’d say so. He used to go on walks with me and helped me with homework. On the weekends he would take me on drives at night once he got his license. Then he went to collage and dropped out because of tuition. Remy thought he had gotten involved with alcohol or something and had lost his job. Jeremy told me he had gotten sexually harassed so he quit. Remy wouldn’t listen though. He never does.” Virgil explained quietly.

“I...I never knew.” Logan turned back to where Jeremy was slightly smiling with Emile now and his eyes occasionally drifted to Virgil sitting in the corner.

“He wouldn’t have told you. Jer has always been kind of closed off. As far as I knew I was the only exception.” Virgil stated blandly.

“Hey Vee!” Emile smiled brightly and waved him over. Logan suddenly felt out of place. He considered leaving but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He needed to talk to Jeremy.

Jeremy embraced Virgil best he could and ruffled his brightly indigo streaked hair, messing it even more. They started talking and Jeremy smiled brighter than Logan had ever seen. That smile made his palms sweaty and his heart skip, Logan wanted that smile to stay forever...

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Okay yeah this chapter was angsty and Remy is way out of character but I needed a reason why Janus was always so bitter. I managed to include some fluffy heartache bits though so I’m proud of myself. Next chapter I think I’ll include the library again, and I can’t decide whether to put Janus(Jeremy) in a wheelchair or put him on crutches SO you my dear foxlings get to help me out. Crutches or Wheelchair and should he be permanently paralyzed in that leg? Let me know via a dm or just comment (reply) on this post.

 Until next time my dear Foxlings!

[bestillmyslashyheart]

My contribution to the RNM Remix was a role reversal of @caitlesshea‘s The Way You Wore because clothes sharing is 100% a thing malex does and there aren’t enough fics of it (you should totally go read hers first because its amazing and she’s amazing)

1.

Contrary to popular belief, Michael could be subtle. He stole Alex’s clothes all of the time but Alex could never prove it. His clothes always disappeared when he was moving or when there were other people around to blame and Michael never wore them when Alex was around.

Alex, on the other hand, was anything but subtle. One might even call him shameless.

“Is that my shirt?” Michael’s voice was still groggy from sleep.

“No,” Alex lied blatantly, not even bothering to look down at the UFO Emporium logo on his chest. He’d given it to Michael after he’d quit his job there and he knew for a fact that the other boy slept in it all of the time. Except last night when neither one of them had bothered with a shirt at all. 

“Looks like my shirt,” Michael commented as he shifted in the bed. Alex glanced over to see him with his head hanging half off the bed in order to get a good look at where Alex stood in the tiny kitchen. 

“You need your eyes checked,” Alex remarked idly as he reached into the overhead cabinet for the granola bars he’d stashed there during his last visit. Michael let out a strangled groan as the shirt rode up.

“That’s just cheating.” Alex hummed, thankful Michael couldn’t see his face and so he didn’t have to hide his grin. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to even if he tried. “Come back here.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Eat later. Come here.” Out of the corner of his eye Alex saw Michael’s hand outstretched, his fingers squeezing shut as he grabbed at the air. “You can’t just stand there in my shirt and nothing else and expect me to wait for you to eat.”

Alex paused and glanced over his shoulder. “But you expect me to come to you?”

The ensuing silence last maybe half a breath before Alex heard the blanket get tossed aside and Michael’s feet hit the floor. A second later Michael crowded him from behind, his fingers dipping under the hem of the shirt to grasp at Alex’s bare hips. “You’re a tease, Alex Manes,” he whispered in wonder. 

“Not my fault someone ripped my shirt last night.”

“I promise to rip your shirts forever if it gets me this.” Michael kissed him just behind his ear.

“Don’t you dare,” Alex warned. He started to open the packaging on the granola bar only for Michael’s hands to come up and rest over his.

“Eat later.” He kissed Alex’s shoulder. “You’re leaving in a few hours,” he reminded him, as if Alex wasn’t also counting every minute.

Alex dropped the bar with a sigh and turned in Michael’s arms. “Fine. But we do actually have to eat at some point.”

Michael hummed and nodded even as he leaned forward to capture Alex’s lips. “Later.”

2.

“Alex.” Alex hummed questioningly without looking up from his computer. “Is that my jersey?”

“Hmm? No.” Alex still didn’t look up even though he’d already lost track of what he’d been doing. “It’s mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael slid onto the couch behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Is that why it says Guerin on it?” 

Alex pretended to think about it. “Pure coincidence.”

Michael’s fingers dug into his ribs just enough to tickle. “You stole my jersey,” he accused. “I was looking everywhere for that.”

“First of all, I didn’t steal anything. It was on my bedroom floor, therefore it’s mine.”

“Uhuh,” Michael said disbelieving. “And second of all?”

“Second of all,” Alex looked over his shoulder at him. “Are you really complaining about me having your name on me?”

“Nope. Nuhuh, not here, not now,” a new voice interjected. Alex rolled his eyes and looked over as Patrick sat down next to him. “Game’s about to start and I am not giving up my couch to you two.”

Michael’s head perked up as Patrick changed the channel just in time to see the Eagles kick off against the Dolphins. Instantly he shifted from boyfriend mode to fan mode, his grip on Alex’s waist going lax as he moved out from behind him to get a better look at the TV. 

Alex grabbed his computer and stood up with a shake of his head. “Go Fins,” he muttered, just to be contrary.

3.

“You realize we’re lost, right?” Alex let his head roll to the side to give Michael a scathing look.

“You realize that’s half the point of a road trip, right?” Michael shot back.

“Not if we’re in the middle of nowhere and almost out of gas!”

“Eh, we’ll be fine.”

“Geurin.”

“Just keep an eye out for a gas station.”

“An eye out, huh?” Alex flung a hand at the window. “At the fucking desert?! There’s nothing around us for miles.” He dropped his head against the seat and closed his eyes. Michael’s truck had a few redeeming features but good gas mileage and adequate air conditioning were not among them.

He cracked an eye open and looked over when Michael didn’t respond. Both of his hands were clenched tight on the wheel, his eyes flitting between the road and the dash in increasing frequency. “Hey,” he said softly. Michael didn’t react. “We’ll find a gas station.”

“I should have filled it all the way up before we left.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

“It’s not,” Alex tried only for Michael to spare a glare at him. “Okay, fine, it might be a little bit of a problem, but we’ll deal with it.” He put his hand on Michael’s thigh and squeezed gently. “It’ll be fine.”

As Michael drove, Alex fished his phone out of his pocket. They hadn’t had any reception for the last hour but it couldn’t hurt to check. After another thirty minutes, the gas tank now firmly in the red, Alex’s phone beeped with a new message. He sat up and swiped away the text from Maria without bothering to look at it in his hurry to pull up Maps. “Aha!” He crowed. “Nearest gas station is 3.2 miles ahead.” 

The truck made it 2.3 miles before sputtering to a stop.

The two of them stared at the fuel gauge then at Alex’s phone before sighing. “Guess we’re walking it.” They got out without a word and walked the last mile to get gas just as the sun started to set. By the time they got back to the car, it was dark and Alex was feeling the chill in the air. As Michael filled the tank and made sure the truck was running okay, Alex dug around in his duffel bag until he found one of Michael’s flannels. For some reason, Michael tended to wear his flannels a little bit to big so Alex didn’t bother buttoning it up, he just tucked it in as he wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned against the door frame. 

Michael slid in the driver’s seat and paused. “Is that my shirt?”

“No,” Alex denied as he shifted to get more comfortable. “It’s one of my many many flannels.”

“Uh huh,” Michael smiled as he shifted the truck into drive. “Well your flannel looks very comfortable.”

“Oh it is,” Alex agreed easily. He fell asleep soon after, waking up only when Michael pulled up to a cheap motel, the bright neon lights burning through his eyelids. That night, he didn’t bother changing for bed, opting instead to sleep in Michael’s shirt.

Two weeks later, when he was unpacking back on base, he found Michael’s shirt balled up at the bottom of his duffel.

He didn’t bother sending it back.

4.

Alex didn’t think too hard about which clothes he was grabbing when the knock came. He’d tried to ignore it at first but it didn’t stop. Eventually, he scooped up a pair of jeans from the floor and slid them on before grabbing his crutches and hurrying out into the main room. The jeans dragged on the floor a little bit but he didn’t pay it much mind.

“I’m coming!” He called as the knocking persisted. “Jesus Christ, what?” He yanked the door open, narrowly avoiding Liz’s fist in his face.

“I figured it out!” She yelled, her smile splitting her face wide. 

“What?”

“Max!” She half yelled, half laughed. “I figured it out!”

“What?” Michael asked as he came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his skin still wet from the shower. 

“I can wake Max up!” This time it was more a laugh than a yell. “I need you and Isobel and about twelve hours to prep but then we should be good to go.” 

Michael’s face did a weird thing as he wavered between being ecstatic that Liz had figured it out and guarded against false hope. Alex watched the two emotions war on his face and turned to Liz. “That’s amazing, Liz. Just tell us what you need and you’ve got it.” 

Liz nodded profusely. “Yeah, yeah, it’s kind of a lot so I’ll text it all to you. I just- I just really needed to tell you and I didn’t want to do it over the phone or wait or-” She stopped and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

“Don’t apologize,” Alex told her. “This is good news. I’m glad you came out to tell us.” He looked her over with a careful eye. “When was the last time you slept?”

Liz waved a hand. “I’ll sleep later.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think Max is gonna be happy to wake up to you dead on your feet? Get some sleep and then we’ll wake Max up. Text us what you need.”

It took a few more minutes but eventually Alex wrangled a promise to nap out of her and sent her on her way. As soon as the door shut behind her, he turned to face Michael who hadn’t said another word. “Michael?”

“Is it bad that I’m not happy yet?”

“Of course not. Nothing’s happened yet.”

Michael nodded slowly and rested his free hand on Alex’s hip as he stepped in close. His other hand still held his towel up on his waist. Alex stayed quiet as Michael took a few deep breaths, his mind obviously whirring with Liz’s news.

“I’m really upset with Liz right now.”

Alex lifted his head to stare at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re standing there in nothing but my jeans and all I can think about is Max.”

Alex looked down at the faded jeans hanging off of his hips, the hem just dragging on the ground. “What are you talking about? These are my jeans.”

Michael’s lips ticked upwards. “Liar.”

“I never lie,” Alex sniffed. “I’m a paragon of truth and virtue.”

“Paragon of sass and bullshit more like.” He nudged his nose against Alex’s as he leant their heads together. “12 hours?”

“That’s what she said,” Alex reached out slowly to grab Michael’s hand, careful not to dislodge his crutch. “Why don’t we get some sleep? Make the time go by faster.”

“I won’t be able to sleep.”

“That’s fine, just lay down with me while I sleep.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Michael fell asleep two hours later. Sixteen hours later he pulled his brother out of his pod and watched as he took his first breath in months.

5.

The loud crash of a stool slamming into the floor shocked the bar into silence. “Where is it?” Michael asked frantically. No one answered. “Who took it?!”

“Yo DeLuca! Stop cutting him off so early! He gets crazy,” some guy laughed in the corner. Michael held up his middle finger in response without bothering to look over. 

He leaned over the counter, puppy eyes out in full force. “Maria, light of my life, apple of my eye,” 

“Stow the shit, Guerin,” she cut him off.

“Where is it?” He continued as if she hadn’t said anything.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Maybe try your boyfriend.”

Alex stifled a laugh as Michael frowned and practically crawled on top of the bar to check the space behind it as Maria walked away. 

“What is he looking for?” Kyle asked.

Alex shrugged, unwilling to answer. He watched as Michael searched around for another few seconds before turning to their table with a dejected look on his face.

“You!” He yelled as soon as he saw Alex, his finger pointed at him. “You stole it?!” 

“Wait, is this all about-” Kyle started to ask.

“Yes,” Alex answered, unable to hold back the laugh this time as Michael fell into the chair next to him. 

“You stole my hat,” he accused.

Alex reached a hand up to touch the brim of said hat. “This old thing? Nah, some idiot left it on the bar so I scooped it up. Finders keepers and whatnot.” He cocked his head to the side. “I think it suits me.”

Michael stared at him, hurt etched into every line in his face, before a smirk found its way onto his lips. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

Michael hummed as he lifted the brim. He leaned in and kissed Alex lightly, pulling back just far enough to take him in. “Maybe a bit better than alright.”

Alex smirked and kissed him again, harder this time. 

“You know what would make it better?” Michael asked softly. Alex shook his head. “If you didn’t bother wearing anything else while you had it on,” he leaned forward and whispered into his ear. 

“Ew,” Kyle scoffed. “That was not nearly as quiet as you thought it was, dude.”

Alex really couldn’t care less. He stood up and tugged Michael after him as they escaped to the exits, the hat accomplishing exactly what he’d intended it to.

+1

Alex looked up from the letter as Michael pulled up outside. He dropped it onto the table and hurried into the bedroom as Michael’s footsteps crossed the deck out front. It only took a few seconds for him to find the shirt, he’d put it on top of everything in Michael’s drawer even though the other man refused to wear it yet.

“Alex?” Michael called when he came in. Alex didn’t answer as he pulled off his own shirt and tugged on Michael’s. “Alex?” Michael’s voice was closer now.

Alex tossed his own shirt into the hamper on his way back to the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when he caught sight of Michael, the letter in his hands as he stared at it.

“Congratulations, college boy,” Alex remarked quietly. Michael looked up at him slowly, his face frozen in surprise.

“This-” he looked down at the acceptance letter briefly before his eyes snapped back up to Alex. “You’re wearing my shirt.”

Alex looked down at the MIT logo emblazoned on his chest. “Well look at that, so I am.”

Michael dropped the letter and crossed the room. “That’s my shirt.”

Alex smiled slowly. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

“I’m going to MIT.”

“You’re going to MIT,” Alex grinned, Michael’s lips finally spreading wide in a smile of his own.

“I’m going to college!” Michael wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist and lifted until Alex’s feet dangled just off of the ground as he spun them in a circle. “I’m going to college,” he repeated, his voice a wonder even as Alex kissed him.