#circulate yourselves like blood

[croziers-compass]

Terror Ask Game

Put in my inbox What Terror Character I "Feel Like" the most to you. Vibes only from here on out.

[elizaleclerc]

suddenly, it was everything ✿

lando norris x reader

summary: fem best friend!reader and lando take a beach trip with friends as their relationship slowly turns into something more…(warning! smut & descriptions of blood)

songs: pink + white by frank ocean , the elevator by lizzy mcalpine , lunch by billie eilish (lol)

author’s note: i don’t typically write smut but i got an itch and had to scratch it with this one ; everyone knows about his feelings for you BUT you / hurt comfort / it’s always been you / other drivers playing matchmaker <3

word count: 4.6k

The warm sand tickled your legs as the ocean waves gently lapped at your feet. You had left your group basking in the sun on the beach to cool off in the refreshing water. Your close-knit friend group loved taking vacations during breaks in the intense racing season. This time, you found yourselves on the picturesque coast of France, staying in Alex's luxurious beachfront condo. You were grateful that he graciously offered to let everyone use his space for this trip.

Even as the only girl in the group, you were always welcomed with open arms, especially by Lando, who considered you his best friend. Charles, Lewis, and Oscar had all come to see you as a dear friend as well. They never complained about your company, as they relished in the joy of having you along on their adventures. Together, you formed a tight-knit family, seeking solace and tranquility in each other's company before diving back into the high-stakes world of racing.

You waded deeper into the water, feeling the gentle caress of the waves against your knees. Suddenly, you thought you heard the thump of feet on the sandy shore behind you. Turning your head, you caught a glimpse of Lando running towards you, his feet pounding against the sand with reckless abandon. You let out a playful yelp as you knew he was coming to splash water all over you.

Without hesitation, you raced further into the water, diving head first into the oncoming waves in an attempt to escape him. The cool water enveloped your body, sliding smoothly over your sun-kissed skin that was glistening with oiled sunscreen. Emerging from the water, you looked around and saw Lando swimming a few feet away from you, his bronze muscles rippling as he glided through the water effortlessly.

“How’d you swim away so fast?” He shouted, making his moves closer to you. 

“Maybe you’re just too slow.” You let out a hearty laugh. Eventually his body was swimming inches away from you as the two of you moved further out from the shoreline.

“Well, maybe you’re just a fish.” He added, out of breath. You saw the bodies of your friends laying on the sand grow smaller and smaller the further you swam away.

As you and Lando waded in the cool water, you could feel his gaze upon you. You turned to him with a grin, taking in the sight of his tanned face and wet curls. The sunlight danced off his green eyes, making them sparkle like crystalized emeralds. "What?" you asked, noticing a subtle look on his face.

"Nothing, you just...you look very happy," he replied, causing your smile to grow even wider.

You couldn't help but giggle at his observation. "Well, I am happy. I've always loved the ocean," you sighed as you leaned back and let the water support your weight, floating on your back. As parts of your stomach and thighs broke through the surface of the water, you caught Lando's gaze lingering on your body once again.

You hadn’t gotten these looks from him before, or maybe you just never noticed them. You had known Lando since you two were small children, and had followed his side as he made his way through his career, being there with him every step of the way. As his closest friend, of course there was media circulation rumoring a romance between the two of you in the McLaren paddock. But you knew that you would never risk ruining your friendship for a romance. It wasn’t until now as you floated with the movement of the waves that you started to see how people could start those rumors. 

~

On the sand, Charles and Alex watched you and Lando swim out in the distance. “I figured he’d chase after her.” Charles sighed once Lando had jumped up to chase you in the water. 

“It’s so interesting, watching them interact,” Alex added, “so close to being a couple yet so far away.”

“And she still doesn’t know he’s obsessed with her?” Lewis asked, perplexed. 

“Nope.” Oscar chimed in, “I’m just as ready for them to make it official as anyone else. I’m tired of him coming to me to talk about his feelings.” They were each laying on their own beach towels, sunglasses propped on their noses, gossiping about you and Lando like elderly ladies at teatime. 

“You know it’s nice to talk about your feelings, Osc.” Charles laughed and Oscar shook his head. 

“Not when it’s the same thing over and over again. ‘Oscar I swear I’m in love with her.’, ‘Oscar did you see what she was wearing today.’, ‘When she hugged me she smelled so good Oscar.’” He mimicked Lando’s voice and accent, earning laughs from all of the boys on the beach.

“I wish there was something we could do to just push them along. Something to really make her see just how whipped he is.” Alex thought out loud,and the group sat in silence thinking for several moments. 

“Actually- we might be able to.” Lewis finally spoke, and everyone turned his head towards him. “Lando does so much for her everyday without her actually realizing why he does it. Maybe we can sneakily drop some comments about it. Just to make her think. I’ve always wanted to play matchmaker.” 

“That could work,” Oscar hummed, already thinking of how he’d approach things. 

“Are we sure that she’s actually going to like him back? I don’t think he’d be able to handle that rejection.” Alex questioned. 

Charles scoffed, “Oh, she definitely likes him. It just needs to click in her head.” He turned his head and saw your towel folded up by the bags, and decided to grab it, hiding it under his own towel. 

“Mate, what are you doing?” Lewis grinned, and Charles held a smirk on his face. 

“Just wait, you’ll see.”

~

For at least an hour, you and Lando splashed and swam in the crystal clear water, mesmerized by the breathtaking scenery of the French coastline. The sun's warm rays caressed your skin as you lazily floated on your back, gazing up at the cloudless blue sky above. But as your fingertips started to wrinkle and prune from being submerged for so long, you reluctantly decided it was time to bask in the sun's warmth and dry off on the sandy beach.

Lando was behind you as you stepped out of the water, following you back to where everyone was laying out. “You guys should really get in that water, it feels great.” You exclaimed, your body still dripping wet as you stood next to them. 

“No thanks, Y/N, the sun and sand is plenty enough for me.” Oscar replied, his inflection filled with sass. 

“Fine,” You sighed contently, searching for your towel amidst all of the bags of stuff the group brought down. 

“Looking for something?” Charles asked, noticing your confused look. 

“Yeah, I don’t know where my towel is. I swear it was right here when I left.” You were so confused as to how you could possibly lose a bright pink towel, but you had done it. You were about to just lay on the sand to dry off, but soon Lando was laying down his own towel.

“Here, just use mine.” He offered, placing it in the spot you were laying earlier. 

Your brows furrowed, “But then you won’t have one.”

Lando shrugged, “Eh, I’ll just run back up to the house and grab another one.” Your lips parted in shock. The group had traveled far down the barren coast line, and Alex’s place was at least a mile walk, all through sand, from where they were. 

“I don’t want you to have to do that,” You objected, knowing that his body must be tired from swimming for the last hour. You felt the tiredness in your own body as you were more than ready to lay down again. 

“Y/N, I’m an athlete, I think I can manage a little walk back to the house. Don’t worry about it.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, motioning for you to lay down on his towel. So you silently obliged, laying down on the warm, dry fabric. 

As Lando’s footsteps slowly trudged away, Oscar turned to look at you lying next to him. “That was nice, huh.” 

You nodded, as you grabbed your sunglasses and hat. “Yeah, I don’t know why he was so nice about it.” 

Charles laughed, “He certainly doesn’t treat any of us like that.” 

~

His words stuck with you for the remainder of the time you guys were on the beach that day. Slowly, you worked your way through your memories with Lando. He was your best friend, the kindest man you knew, and yet he did treat you differently than the other guys. He wouldn’t have given his towel to Alex or Lewis and walked all the way back up to the house. You thought back to the multitude of times Lando had brought both of you lunch on busy days around the paddock, taking the time out of his schedule to eat with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. 

Once Lando came back, he had grabbed some fresh cut fruit, offering you some first before anyone else. He put his new towel down next to you, as the two of you shared orange slices. The sweet citrus flavor flooded your mouth, but you were still stuck on Charles’s words. 

You laid on your stomach, head resting on your folded arms as you looked at Lando. He was laying on his back, his eyes closed under his sunglasses. Your eyes traveled all around him, watching his curls slowly dry the longer you guys were in the sun. Your sight moved to his slightly sun kissed cheeks, and admired the way some of his freckles had begun to show with the introduction of the summer season. You observed how the bridge of his nose had a small bump in it, rounding out at the tip of his nose, the curves of his lips leading to his perfectly chiseled jawline.

The image of Lando’s face had been imprinted in your mind since you first met him, but you weren’t sure you had ever really paid attention to the details like you were now. 

~

The group called it quits for the day just before dinner time. You all made the trek back to the house, and everyone showered the coarse sand and sunscreen off of their bodies. With fresh clean and tan skin, the group chatted around the kitchen as everyone pitched in to help make dinner. 

You and Lando had been put in charge of chopping up the vegetables that were going into the pasta salad. You had to convince Lando that you could be trusted with the large and sharp knife. He prepped and washed the veggies as you chopped them. The two of you stood inches apart, his arm often grazing yours, sending chills through your body. You had never felt that way before with his slight touch, which sent your mind whirling once again.

Suddenly, as you were going to make another slice into some round baby tomatoes, the sound of broken glass echoed through the room as Lewis dropped a bottle of sauce from the cabinets, your body jolting in shock. With the harsh movement, the blade from the knife cut part of your finger. 

You winced  as trickles of blood blended into the vibrant red of the tomato juice. Lando’s eyes shot over to you, and immediately noticed your fresh cut. It was deep into your skin, slicing right through the fleshy part of the tip of your index finger.

You stood motionless, staring at the deep gash on your finger as blood ran down your hand. Suddenly, Lando's strong hands grasped your arms and guided you to the sink. The other boys crowded around, their faces etched with worry as they repeatedly asked if you were okay. With Lando's warm body pressed against yours, he turned on the faucet and held your finger under the cold water, which quickly turned pink from the blood.

“Lando, you take her to the bathroom by my bedroom. There’s bandaids and plenty of first aid supplies in there. Hopefully the cut isn’t deep enough to need stitches.” Alex had moved over to the veggies, saving the ones that weren’t ruined from the mess of your finger. 

The pain radiated from your finger, searing and intense. You couldn't stop the tears from streaming down your face as Lando calmly guided you to Alex's bathroom. Every step felt like agony, but Lando's strong grip never faltered.

You were still in shock, the burning sensation making it hard to think clearly. But Lando was a natural caregiver, moving confidently to retrieve supplies from the cabinets. You stood there, feeling small and helpless, as he laid everything out on the counter.

With gentle hands, Lando lifted you up onto the counter, giving you a better vantage point for him to clean and dress your wound. Despite your tendency to cry at the slightest injury, Lando remained calm and focused, his protective instincts taking over. As he worked, you couldn't help but marvel at how well he knew what to do in this situation.

As he pressed a cotton pad against the cut, you felt your feet sway slightly in the air. The amount of blood soaking into the white pad made your head spin and your vision blur. His voice was gentle and soothing as he reassured you, “It’s alright, you’re okay”, his hand holding yours with a firm yet delicate grip. You could feel yourself leaning into his touch, seeking comfort and safety from the pain.

With a quick, determined movement, he snatched the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the bathroom cabinet. The distinct smell of alcohol filled the air as he uncapped it, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. "This is gonna hurt," he warned, his voice full of concern. You felt a chill run down your spine as he poured the liquid over the wound, the intense burning sensation making you grit your teeth and let out a sharp whimper of pain. Your hand trembled uncontrollably as Lando's gentle touch on your thigh provided some comfort in the midst of this agony. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured as he continued to clean the cut, his eyes full of worry. "We can't risk an infection.”

You nodded as tears ran down your face again. He cleaned away any dirt and grime and wrapped your finger with a thin layer of gauze to help absorb any further bleeding. He then took a thick bandaid and finished up the job.

Your breathing finally slowed as you sniffled. Lando finally looked into your eyes, his own filled with sympathy for your pain. “See, all better.” He placed his lips delicately on your fingertip, giving it a soft kiss. 

You laughed sheepishly, only feeling the pulsating throbs of your wound. He took his thumbs and wiped away the rest of your tears, taking a moment to look into your glossy eyes. You both had paused, entranced in the eyes of the other. 

Lando then seemed to snap out of it, “You should head back to the kitchen. I’ll get everything cleaned up in here.” He cleared his throat nervously, and you hopped off the counter and left the room. You weren’t sure if it was the pain in your finger or if you had gotten burned earlier in the beach sun, but your cheeks felt flushed. 

~

Everyone sat at the dinner table chatting between one another, but you kept to yourself, only chiming in rarely. So many things played in the back of your mind. Lando caring for you at the beach, Charles’s comment, him standing against you as he rinsed off your finger, his delicate and generous touch as he bandaged up your wound. His voice echoed in your ear as he flooded you with reassurance, him calling you “love”. He had never adorned you with that nickname before. 

“Y/N, you alright? I didn’t fuck up dinner right?” Oscar asked, breaking your train of thought at the table. 

You forced a smile, “No, no, it’s delicious. Guess I’m just a little worn out from today.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Lewis sighed. “Long day of getting tired out with swimming, coming back to cook dinner only to cut your finger open.” He shook his head, “Thank god you had Lando here to take care of you. I don’t think any of us could’ve handled that much blood.” Lewis rambled on, but his words struck with you too. You felt like you were going crazy.

Had Lando always been this affectionate? Or was there just something about this beach trip that caused you to think and see him in a different light. Everyone went on chatting about various topics, many regarding the next phase of the racing season. 

As the night wore on and everyone retired to their rooms, you couldn't help but feel torn. Your body craved rest and the warmth of your bed, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Lando. You had never questioned your feelings for him before, but now they seemed to swirl in a tangled mess. He was your best friend, and risking everything for romantic desires seemed foolish. Yet, your heart continued to ache for his touch and presence. You were torn between what you wanted and what you knew could potentially destroy your friendship. As you lay in bed, conflicted thoughts kept you awake, unsure of what the right choice was.

You decided to get out of your bed and travel downstairs to the kitchen. Your throat was dry and you longed for an ice cold water. It must have been 2am, so you weren’t expecting anyone to be awake as you were only clad in a revealing tank top and short shorts that clung to your skin. 

However, as you turned the corner into the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. Lando, shirtless, dressed only in his boxers, stood around the kitchen island, drinking his own glass of water. 

“Oh-“ you muttered in surprise, as his tired eyes met yours. 

“Oh, hey.” His voice seemed languid, and you assumed he had not had a wink of sleep either. “What are you doing up?”

“I just um…couldn’t sleep I guess.” You shrugged as you poured yourself a glass, the cool liquid already sweating around the cup. 

As you awkwardly drank the water, out of the corner  you saw his eyes track up and down your body, further causing your mind to flip and turn.

“How’s the finger?” He asked, and you broke a smile. 

“Doing better. I don’t think I ever thanked you earlier.” You spoke softly, resting the side of your hip on the counter next to him. “Lewis was right, I think they might have fainted with how much blood there was.” 

Lando smiled, “Don’t mention it. I guess I just went into protector mode.” His words once again caused your heart to pulse. Your breath quickened, and as the seconds passed you were putting all of the pieces together. 

“Charles said earlier that you wouldn’t treat the other guys that way.” You blurted out, your mouth and heart seeming to operate separate from your brain. 

He furrowed his brows slightly in a smile, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean earlier with the beach towel. And the fruit. And healing me, calling me love, wiping my tears away. Why?” As you spoke the smile slowly dropped. You watched his toned, tanned, torso rise and fall with his breath. 

You looked into his eyes, there was a moment of connection, of reciprocation. Then he spoke in almost a whisper, like he was scared of anyone else hearing him, “I think you know why.”

“Lan…” Your voice cracked, and all at once everything seemed to make sense. Of course he had treated you this way. Of course you had let him. You wouldn’t want anything else. He was all you needed, all you craved.

He stepped closer, his warm hand finding its way to your hip and gently resting there. The intensity in his voice was palpable as he begged for your approval, “Please tell me this is okay,” his words coming out dry and desperate.

You looked up at him, your heart racing with anticipation. With a slow nod, you gave him the go-ahead, your lips already parting in yearning for his touch. When his lips finally met yours, it was like an electric shock, sending tingles down your spine and igniting a fire within. Your hands instinctively found their way to his neck, fingers tangling in his soft curls as your movements became synchronized with his. His hands traced random patterns on your waist, each touch sending shivers throughout your body as desire coursed through every inch of you.

Your lips trailed down to his neck, sucking and leaving love bites in between kisses. His breathing became heavy, “Easy now, I might not be able to control myself.” 

You smirked, meeting his eyes again as you traced his abs muscles, “I wouldn’t be one to stop you.” 

The kisses had become intense and passionate, his hands trailing all over your body. This time it was Lando that kissed along your neck and collarbone. His breath was hot against your skin, “Let me please you, I’m begging,” he muttered, and your legs became weak. 

“Not here…” You answered, and asked if you could go to his room.

Lando led you to his bedroom. He pressed you against the bed, peppering kisses along your collarbone and leaving love marks in his wake. Gasping for air, you slowly removed your tank top while he couldn't take his eyes off of you. His lips eagerly found their way to your breasts, causing waves of pleasure to shoot through your body. As he continued his journey down your chest and torso, Lando deftly slid off your pajama shorts, revealing more of your bare skin. "You are so beautiful," he murmured between kisses.

You were almost frustrated with how easily he found his way around in the bedroom, knowing he’s had plenty of attention from other girls in the past. His warm lips traced all the way down to your hips, and they arched as he took his time down your body. 

“I need you,” you whimpered, annoyed with how long he was taking to start pleasuring you. 

“Patience my love, I’m just getting started.” His voice vibrated off of your skin as he kissed your inner thighs. Then, as you were finally adjusting to his teasing, he licked all the way up your entrance, causing you to emit a soft moan. “Don’t get too loud now, Alex’s room is right next door.”

Lando's skilled tongue flicked and sucked against your sensitive core, causing you to squirm and moan uncontrollably. You tried to muffle your sounds with your hand, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. But the pleasure was too intense, each movement of Lando's mouth bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you were about to reach your climax, he pulled away and kissed you deeply. Your taste mingled with his on his lips as you caught your breath. Your fingers tangled in his curly hair, but before you could fully relax, he thrust two fingers inside of you. The sudden intrusion sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you cry out loudly. Lando quickly covered your mouth with his hand, trying not to alert anyone to what was happening between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, “C’mon baby,” trailing kisses down to your collarbone. Your body trembled as he worked his fingers inside you, each movement hitting the perfect spot. His thumb found your clit and began circling, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

Your moans turned into incoherent pleas for more as he whispered dirty words in your ear. With one final thrust, he brought you over the edge, your entire body shaking with pleasure. “That’s it,” he held you close, gently kissing your forehead as you came down from your climax. You traced kisses along his jawline, struggling to catch your breath after such an intense release.

As the passion in the room died down, Lando kept planting soft kisses on your neck. Your bodies had cuddled together, tired from the restless night and the intensity between you. You couldn’t believe how the night had unfolded, as things had become a complete 180 from where the day started. 

“Y/N?” Lando asked softly. Your eyes met his in his bed, limbs intertwined. 

“Hmm?” You hummed tiredly. 

“I want you to know, you mean way more to me than what we just did. I’ve waited a long time to really tell you how I feel. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hope everyday I can show you just how much I love you.” He reassured you, bringing a soft smile to your face. 

Tears almost came to your eyes, “You love me?” 

He grinned, tucking the hair on your face behind your hear and caressing your cheek, “I think I always have.” 

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I love you too, Lan.”

~

After a few hours of much-needed rest, you and Lando slowly emerged from the comfort of your shared bed to start the day. You were in the clothes he had lent you - his boxers hanging loosely on your hips and a baggy t-shirt that was now adorned with small hickeys peeking out from beneath the fabric. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air, tempting your senses.

As you tended to the breakfast dishes, Lando came up behind you at the stove and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He wore a cozy sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, enveloping you in his warmth as you basked in his embrace. Turning to face him, you cupped his handsome face in your hands and brought your lips to his in a sweet morning kiss.

“Oh shit.” A voice from the other side of the room exclaimed. Startled, you looked to see Lewis and Charles standing across the kitchen island, mouths almost to the floor. 

“Fuck, I owe Oscar twenty bucks.” Charles sighed. 

You and Lando just looked at each other with a confused expression.

[astroboots]

Heatwave

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Santiago and you try to occupy yourselves during another heatwave in Florida.

Rating: Explicit, edging, bratty-ass behavior from one Santiago.

Pairing: Santiago x female reader (you)

Word Count: 4,000

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' masterlist

At what point does a spiking high temperature no longer count as a heatwave and just becomes the new average temperature for the local area. Is it after the third or sixth heatwave in a month? And for that matter, how many record breaking high temperatures can one summer have in store for a state that is already known for its hot climate?

Fuck! Why did he move back here again?

Santiago is melting. Lying slumped against the cool flooring of the bedroom where the breeze reaches. He's stripped off his clothes, wearing nothing but his boxers and staying far away from any walls because they are fucking radiating heat. At one point he's pretty sure he saw the edges of the walls wobble from the inferno temperature raging outside... either that or his vision is blurring out on him.

It must be what? 150 degrees, 200?? He doesn't care what the weatherman is reporting, there's no fucking way it's only 110 out there.

Leaning his head back down on the cold wooden flooring for reprieve, he can't remember the last time Florida got so hot. (If it has, he hasn't been here to see it).

Shit, it must be even hotter than that time you drove him down to the airport, what was it now, ten or twelve years ago? It got so fucking hot that the radio was warning about staying away from the highway because the tarmac was at risk of melting.

No one in their right mind would've gone out on the road that day. Except you of course. In your shitty little Volvo, with a broken A/C and a clutch that creaked with every change of gear. It's lucky the old piece of junk made it to the airport at all, and nothing short of a miracle that you made it there in time.

He can still see it in his mind's eye. The way your hair was matted with sweat as you pulled up to the drop off point. Still remembers how his old t-shirt was glued to every inch of his sweaty back as he peeled himself off the passenger seat. How, even as disgusting as the two of you felt, drenched in sweat and smelling like two dumpster diving raccoons, having been trapped on the highway for over an hour in that heat, you had held onto his torso as if you were never going to let him go. Your pinkie wrapped around his, so tightly, he was sure the blood circulation was entirely cut off as you told him in no uncertain terms: "You better fucking come back home in one piece, Santiago."

A smile breaks out across his face at the memory. From a distance he can hear the familiar sound of your footfall from the hallway, followed by your voice echoing all the way upstairs as you call out for him.

"Santiagoooo!"

If it wasn't for the heat, he'd call back in response to you. But all the strength is zapped out of him. Plus, he suspects that the reason you're calling for him is to rope him into helping Frankie with the latest crazy home project the man's set on finishing this weekend (and in this heat Santiago's not going anywhere near that).

"Honey." The endearing nickname has him smiling even wider. His mouth parts, just about to respond to you when he hears the rest of your sentence.

"Frankie needs help sanding down the fence."

Bingo.

No way in hell he's responding now.

He can hear you opening and closing doors all over the house in search of him. You'll find him eventually, but it doesn't mean he's not going to take his time enjoying the last few moments of being in the safe shelter out of the sun.

There's a soft click as the door to the bedroom opens. From his limited view on the floor, he sees glimpses of your feet from the corner of his eyes as you march in front of him until you're standing above, looming over his form.

"Santiago. I was looking for you everywhere."

He lets the hand resting on his thigh slide down to the front of his boxers without thought and that catches your immediate attention.

There's a sharp and sudden inhale from you, as if the air is spiked. You look like you've forgotten how to breathe properly.

You liked that huh? The corner of his lips curl into a smile as he holds eye contact with you.

"Sorry, must've dozed off."

"Har, har. Stop lounging around half naked and acting like a thirst trap. Frankie needs help with the fence."

"It's 200 fucking degrees. I'm not going to do that. Frankie can finish his home improvement project when Armageddon isn't happening outside."

You shoot him a small frown. Arms crossing in front of your chest.

He pats the space on the floor right next to himself, as he continues. “Come lay down with me for a second to cool down. You look like you might be overheating. Don’t wanna get heatstroke or anything. Frankie can wait a few minutes.”

You don't move from the spot, making no move to join him. "Poor Frankie is doing all the work."

Santiago's itching to retort that there's nothing "poor" about Frankie's situation. Man is having the time of his life out there. He loves doing these projects.

But Santiago keeps his mouth shut. Because he knows if he doesn't, he'll inevitable set you two up for a back and forth of who's right and wrong, who wins and who's losing the argument, trying to one-up each other the rest of the afternoon. And it's not that Santiago doesn't absolutely love doing that with you but...

Peering up at you, the way your lips are swollen with heat and parted as you look at him, Santiago has a much better idea of how he wants to spend the rest of the afternoon with you.

"Just a little bit, sweetheart," he says, doing his best to sweet talk you as he pats his free hand over the same spot on the floor in invitation. "Come sit with me for one minute, and I promise I'll go help Frankie okay?"

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw a quick glance over the window, probably to check in on Frankie.

"Just a minute, okay?"

"Mhmm. Just one."

It doesn't take more persuasion from him than that. Next thing he knows, you're walking over to him. Soft steps and an even softer gaze in your eyes. Then you sink down on the floor and sit down on the spot right where he patted.

That was... surprisingly easy.

He'd expected more resistance from you. Was fully prepared to do a filibuster marathon to try to convince you to join him. Hadn't quite expected you to just... give into him the way you just did. He blinks up in surprise, at your face mere inches away from him. He's not fully sure what just happened. You've never turned down an opportunity to put up a fight with him before.

You stare down at his chest and bare stomach, lingering there. You swallow down reflexively as you take him in with heated eyes.

Huh...

Santiago knows the effect he has on women. He just never knew he had that effect on you.

As arrogant as it sounds, he knows he's a good looking man. Knows that he's charming to boot. But the relationship between the two of you, for all the love that you had held for each other, had always remained platonic back in the day. You don't look at him the way other women do. And Santiago doesn't flirt with you the way he does with other women. Those were the unspoken rules you two had set for each other from the start and it's all you two have ever known.

And while things have changed now. While Santiago's seen the heated looks you give him when he's in bed with you, your relationship has remained largely unchanged outside of it.

You still pull him up on his bullshit when he's earned it. Never hesitate to square up with him in a competition for anything.

This... This is new.

He taps his bare thigh, almost experimentally to test his theory. He doesn't miss the way your pupils dilate with interest, and as always he can't resist the urge to goad you.

Not when you're eyeing him so appreciatively, in a way that you've never done in the past in all your years of friendships until recently. He figures he's earned the right after all this time to be a little bit obnoxious and revel and preen in the attention from you.

"Cariño," he calls out, until your eyes pulls back up to his face. "Eyes up here," he teases.

You roll your eyes, smacking him in the chest. It's supposedly a playful gesture, but you do it with enough strength that it knocks the breath out of him.

"I know," you retort, but your eyes drift back to his chest and then continue downwards and the attention has heat spearing through his limbs.

"You're still looking," he teases, and his hand snakes down over the plane of his thighs, reveling in your attentive gaze. "Didn't know you were such a perv."

By now you'd usually retaliate or cuss him out, but you don't.

Instead, you continue to stare, eyes blown wide as if you've been cast under a spell, mesmerized.

He palms himself through the front of his boxers, and he can feel the rush of blood rushing down and away from his head as his cock stirs to hardness. If Santiago was considered full of himself before this, it's nothing compared to how he feels in this moment with the way you're looking at him. Your expression blank, like the sight of him has made you lose your ability to speak. Mouth parted, the glistening pink of your tongue peeking out, as if you would devour him if he'd let you.

"Should I give you a show then?" he asks.

After all, if you want to look, he's more than happy to give you something proper to look at.

You nod with an eagerness that has your head bouncing up and down like the bopping bobble head toy Frankie keeps on the dashboard. Santiago lets out a laugh that's more breathless than he had expected from himself. He blames it on the heat.

Dragging down the edge of his boxers, he keeps his eyes on yours as his fingers wrap around the base of himself and his cock jumps in response to the touch.

Shit, that's good. A sweet spike of pleasure runs through him at the languid touch, and he feels breathless with it. His cock is slick with precome that drips down the length with each slide of his hand.

Running his hand up the rigid length, the calloused skin graze against the sensitive skin. Pleasure ooze and drips inside his chest and down his limbs, until his legs tremble with it. Santiago's touched himself countless times before but it's never felt like this before.

Maybe it's the heat that's getting to him. Or maybe it's the way you're inching closer with each passing second until you're practically straddling him on his lap. You and your soft and perfect thighs pressing down on his own, keeping him pinned onto the floor as he tries to keep going. The heat he can feel from between your legs, through the thin layer of cotton that's pressed onto his bare skin. Yeah... maybe it's that.

Santiago goes slow and languid as he touches himself for your benefit. And as ridiculous as it sounds it is for you. Because if it wasn't for you, there's no chance in hell he'd be going this slowly. He'd be fast and almost sloppy, squeezing down on his cock until the desperate need that's riding his spine lets go with his climax. If you weren't here, gorgeous eyes all focused on him, with a look that he wouldn't even let himself dream of in the past, he wouldn't want to prolong it the way he is.

Even now, with the strained effort of taking it as slow as he can possibly stand, he's not entirely sure how long he'll last. He feels like he's on a precarious edge, his climax taunting him, swelling up and simmering with a slow burn in his stomach.

Your torso tilts forward, squirming in his lap, with the tiniest movement every time his hand moves upwards, in time with his strokes.

You're practically riding his thigh, and Jesus fucking christ, that isn't helping Santiago's situation right now. At this point you're both going to come dry humping each other like horny clueless Mormons on their wedding night.

"Sweetheart, wait--" he tries, but you press yourself down on his thigh all the same, and he can feel your sweet slick drip down on his thigh and coat him with it. All he's capable of is a deep and shameless moan.

His cock twitches in his hand, and for several alarming seconds, Santiago thinks that's it. That it's already too late and he's going to come right then and there, spilling himself all over his hand and stomach.

Santiago squeezes down hard around the base of his cock to stave off the needy sensation.

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuck. fuck. Sweetheart, gonna need you to--" he doesn't finish his sentence. Can't spare the seconds it would take to properly think. One hand is already reaching out under your dress (thank god you're wearing a dress) wedging your panties to the side, his other pulling you closer by your waist until your pussy is lined up with the swollen head of his cock.

He doesn't even have time to move his hand in place to grip at his cock before you push down on him. Heat streaks through his insides until his lungs feels like they're burning. Your perfect pussy envelops all of him, every single throbbing aching inch with slick warmth and perfect pressure until his vision whites out.

Fuck, why is he so fucking sensitive.

He can't... fuck, he can't hold on. A desperate groan tears out of his throat and he buries his face into your neck to hide from the sensation that has him surrounded.

He thrusts upwards, canting his hips until you're taking all of him.

Pleasure singes his entire spine, and it burns him alive with it. The heat is unbearable, sweat is plastered to his back, but it doesn't matter. Santiago's skin is damp and sticky, but he's still pressing you closer. Wants every inch of you, warm and gorgeous and so fucking soft, pressed against him in every way he can have you, and he's still not sure if that'd be enough.

Wants to make up for every year, hour, minute and second that he'd wasted of his life, being away from you. Wants all of that even if it kills him.

Planting his feet on the wooden floor for leverage, he grabs your hips to force you down as far as you can take him. Until your head throws back with a high-pitched whine, palms pushing down on his chest as if it's too much for you to handle, and he lets go, sinking down his hips back towards the floor, until only the tip of him rests inside you.

He gives you a handful of seconds to catch your breath. Then he grabs your waist and push you down on his cock. Again, and again. To the gorgeous sounds of your keen moans and whines all blended into one, as you're sobbing out his name.

Forceful, deep thrusts that has tears pushing in the corner of your eyes. He keeps going as the sweet aching heat has him drunk and euphoric on you, with each and every rise and cant of his hips.

He's not going to last. Shit, shit, he's not going to last like this.

But that's okay. Because judging from the way you're grinding against him. Needy and desperate. Your cunt squeezing so tight around his cock it makes it hard to breathe, you're not going to last either.

His hand strays down below your stomach, sliding between your legs until his thumb catches at your clit, slippery and wet, and absolutely dripping for him. You sob at the contact, wracked in shivers as he continues to rub smooth little circles over it, and he can feel just how close you are.

You're perfect. Eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back in surrender, a high-pitched whine escaping your throat and oh fuck Santiago was not prepared for this.

His brain stalls out, hand stopping as his movements comes to a still to take in the sight before him because...You are so fucking beautiful like this.

"Santiago, what the fuck, make me—" you're slapping his shoulder, voice high pitched and desperate that makes his spine tingle as you grind on him. "Fuck make me cum, don't be an ass."

Fuck what is he doing?

Santiago's not sure. Not sure why he's stopped, even as every nerve and muscle in him is screaming for him to chase after the pleasure until both of you are coming.

Not sure why he's just sitting there dumbfounded. Except, this is everything he's wanted for so long that he's denied himself and he realizes that right now— it's here, landed in his very lap. You're the woman he's loved for so long, no matter how much he's denied it to himself, and he just wants to make this moment last.

All he knows is that he doesn't want this to end.

"Wait, sweetheart," he murmurs, even as you squirm from his grip pinning you in place. "Just give me a second. Want to remember this," and he means it with more sincerity than he ever thought he had left in him as he stares up at you in complete awe.

He wants it to last.

Not just out of a ill-placed sense of pride. Not just because he knows you're going to give him shit for coming too fast.

He just wants this to last. Wants you in his arms like this. Wants you to look at him, just like this, like you need him to survive, more than your next breath. This. This. This. He wants it to last forever.

You don't listen to him though. Of course you don't, because you never make it that easy for him. Your hips roll against him, grinding with desperation until his cock nudges something devastatingly perfect that has him convinced his brain is melting.

Shit, he has to stop. Oh fuck oh fuck, he's too close—

"Stop stop," he warns, hand gripping down on your hips to stop you "Boa, Stop— fuck you're gonna make me—"

But it's too late. It's already happening. He can feel his cock pulse and throb as he spills himself inside of you, shuddering through his orgasm— and fuck this was not how it was supposed to go down.

Everything slows. It's everywhere, rushing through him with a chaotic frenzy as it wrings him dry. The euphoric sensation overcrowding everything else, and his head feels like he is going to split with it. He can't think. Can't breathe.

But even in his post-cum haze he knows you still haven't come and he can't have that.

Santiago grits through it. Biting down and clenching on his jaw to ride through the over-brimming sensation that threatens to burst out of his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

Oversensitive and overstimulated. Every slick slide of your perfect pussy has him gasping for air. It's too much. Like live wires are running through his skin and every cant of your hips against him sets every receptor in his brain on overdrive. His cock is so sensitive, he can feel every fraction of you wrapped around him.

And it's perfect and it's good. And it's just so fucking much.

You're burning hot. He feels feverish and on the brink of delirium from the heat. Like he's inside a live furnace, but he doesn't want to stop. Can't stop. Not until he's seen your eyes roll into the back of your head. Not until you've come apart for him.

Locking his arm over the small of your back, he flips you over, onto your back. Pushing his free hand between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing rough little circles on your clit again.

He keeps going, pushing inside even as every nerve at him is screaming for respite. Santiago doesn't stop though. You're so close, and he just has to hold on even as each flutter and squeeze of your cunt is pushing him over the edge of too much.

Doesn't stop even as your gorgeous eyelashes flutter dramatically, your eyes rolling back as you kick your leg out and finally, finally comes on his cock.

The sensation of your climax punches the last breath out of him. He can hear himself whine pathetically into your neck.

The overwhelming tightness of you, your pussy squeezing and clenching down over and over, as if you're trying to wring and empty him out of anything he has left him. It brings him to his knees and collapses into you.

Everything feels sticky and clammy. Both of you drenched, as he's pinning you down with his weight. He feels weightless and heavy all at the same time. It doesn't make sense and shouldn't even be possible. But it certainly didn't help him in his efforts to move

To the protest of his exhausted limbs, Santiago rolls over to lay on his back next to you there on the floor. Both of you sweaty and panting.

God this might have been a bad idea.

It was too fucking hot even before all the physical exertion, now it's like an inferno. He's seconds from passing out. But at least the floor is marginally cooler against his back than the surrounding air, while you're laying there catching their breath.

Every inch of him thrums with pleasure, and his body practically tingles with the afterglow of his climax. But he can't help the scowl on his face. He's mentally cringing.

He came too fast.

Shot his load like some overeager virgin.

And there's no fucking way you wouldn't have noticed that he came before you. It's only a matter of you catching your breath, before you start giving him shit about it.

He lies there, staring up at the ceiling, preemptively trying to come up with some kind of defense or comeback but nothing comes to him. The only thing that fills his head is the image of your eyes from seconds ago, gazing down on him, looking at him the way that deep down, through all those years of platonic friendship, for all the way he's tried to repressed it, he's always wanted you to look at him.

It's so fucking stupid, but his stomach flutters pleasantly at the memory.

"Hey, Santiago...?"

He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face trying desperately to pull himself together. Because even though he knows it's coming. Right now he feels too naked and raw, without protection to brace himself at whatever joke you're sure to make next at his expense.

Feels a little bit too exposed after that perfect moment of having everything he never let himself acknowledge that he wanted right there in his arms.

He swallows, bracing himself for the witty remark, as he responds to you with a weak, "Yeah?"

You don't say anything.

Instead, he feels just the barest touch against his hand, and he looks down. Your fingers slides against the heel of his hand, searching for his hand before you find his pinkie and curl around it. He drags his eyes back towards your face and you have the softest smile on your sweaty, gorgeous face.

"I'm glad you're here," you say, there's no sarcasm there. Your voice is soft and quiet, and so sincere.

He doesn't know what is happening to him but his chest constricts and is drawn so tight it's painful. And suddenly he's blinking back tears. Call him dramatic, but for a brief moment Santiago swears the chest pains are a sign of cardiac arrest, until you grip his pinkie tighter and the pain eases.

"Yeah...." Santiago nods. Has to clear his throat before he can get the rest of the words out from the lump that is lodged in his throat. "Yeah, me too. Sweetheart. Me too."

Sweat sticks to his back, and the heat is unbearable. But he doesn't want to move. Doesn't ever want to leave this spot with you lying next to him.

He'll never admit it out loud. But he knows why even though he hates Florida with every inch of his soul, he'll always find his way back here. Why no matter how far away he goes, a part of him will always be left behind here. A long long time ago in the drop off zone of Miami International, on a disgusting hot and sweaty day just like today, he made a promise. He promised that he'll always came back home to you.

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproiblemss who came up with that DEVASTATING concept of the pinkie holding post-sex.

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[poorlyyy]

Boo Boo

Adrian Tepes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After a small fight, you two make up in the oddest of ways.

Sculpted by the gods. That’s the best way to describe the dhampir, Adrian Tepes.

He always scoffs when you say stuff like that. But the pink that dusts his pale cheeks is enough to keep the compliments flowing.

Love is a powerful word to describe your feelings for one another. Too powerful- it makes you a bit clammy thinking about it. Four letters but enough to break a person's entire being.

Adrian isn’t as in tune with his emotions as he may like to appear. Either pushing them away, or letting them devour him completely. No in between. Not the healthiest individual, but neither were you.

That’s what makes this all the more terrifying. Working to better yourselves, for each other. Wanting to be a healthier, more open minded person. Together- for each other.

It’s kind of romantic, wanting to change for the better.

Baby steps at first, beginning with drinking more water and eating healthier. Adrian constantly nags you for all the junk you eat, so you allow him to cook whatever he deems “proper cuisine”.

For Adrian, he’s working on relaxing. As bizarre as that sounds, trying to wrestle the man down for an afternoon nap is almost impossible. Now for a half hour a day, he has to either meditate or nap. No reading, or eating, or whatever mindless hobby he’s picked up. Just sitting there, alone with his thoughts.

This little self help duo you formed has been going well for the most part. Up until he showed up.

It wasn’t a big surprise when newcomers came to the little village Adrian founded. Most of them are stragglers, wandering from town to town then leaving after a few nights. And sometimes, rarely, they even come to have dinner in the castle.

He said his name was ‘Owen’, but after the stunt he pulled you’re not even sure that was his real name.

It was your idea to invite him over for dinner, after he told you a sob story about his awful travels and the loss of his parents. Pity invite, but an invite nonetheless.

“Lovely home you got.” His eyes roamed the beautiful interior.

“Thanks but it’s not mine. Adrian’s father passed it down to him.”

“You don’t say.” Even then you should have noticed his wandering eyes.

Dinner went well, he talked about his parents and seemed like a genuinely decent guy. Someone who’s had shit luck and needed to see that there was still goodness in the world.

Well that genuine nature turned out to be a load of horseshit. He wandered off to “take a leak” and you both found him in the attic, trying to swipe some magic weapons. He panicked and grabbed a nearby dagger, swinging it at you. It only nicked you but Adrian beat him to a pulp. You don’t know if the man would be alive if you weren’t there.

After kicking him out and threatening him never to return, it’s been tense between you both. He’s clearly upset but refuses to say anything. Adrian’s always been a bit cautious about inviting guests into the castle, for good reason- Dracula’s castle is known by many.

Laying back to back in the darkness of your shared bedroom is not how you wanted to spend the night. He never lays on his side, claiming it’s better for blood circulation to lay flat on your back- so you know for sure he’s angry. Plus the small dramatic sighs he keeps letting out.

“Are you gonna talk about it or keep sighing all night?” The silent treatment was not part of your self improvement journeys.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Good night.” It's curt and full of attitude.

Sitting up quickly, you look at him. He feels you shifting but makes no move to face you.

“Adrian.”

Nothing.

“Adrian, talk to me.”

Still nothing.

“Fine.”

The feeling of weight lifting off the bed has his attention, as he peeks over his shoulder to watch you grabbing your pillows.

“Where are you going?” He’s sitting up now, watching you clutch your pillow on a journey to the door.

“Sleeping in the guest room.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Adrian you’ve been an ass to me all day. You’re acting like you’re the one who got attacked!”

He looks at your wrapped forearm, sighing and laying back down.

“If you had listened to me in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“Oh, so now you want to say shit.” Throwing the pillows at the foot of the bed, and crossing your arms. “As if you haven’t invited plenty of people over to the castle.”

“I have not.” The accusation has him sitting up on his elbows, furrowed brow.

“That couple from Lupu?”

“His wife was pregnant.”

“Those kids from Salo?”

“They were too young to be adventuring into the woods at night.”

“That cute guy from Hanna?”

“He was… very hungry.” Fumbling and struggling to keep eye contact.

“And cute.”

Adrian huffs in anger, the pout on his face would be upsetting if it weren’t so adorable.

“And now one bad apple comes through, after a couple dozen good ones.”

Crawling up the bed on all fours has him shifting up a bit. Almost like prey under a predator.

Finally stopping once you’re fully straddling his thighs, knees slightly bent making a perfect seat for your ass.

“You’re being a real arse to me, when I got a boo boo.” You hold up your arm like a wounded animal, giving a small pout.

He takes the bait and gently grasps your wrist, bringing the bandage to his lips. Ever so careful, his lips put barely any pressure on your wound.

“Perhaps…” Adrian pulls his lips away, “I have been a bit of a ‘jerk’.”

“Mmhmm.”

“How can I make it up to you?”

It’s a sweet request, pure even. He’s giving you a look filled with adoration and love. Mouth slightly agape revealing his pearly whites, two fangs one display. Cupping his cheek makes him gulp, the look in your eye making him equal parts nervous and excited.

“I can think of a few things.”

Leaning down, planting a kiss on his jawline, then along his neck, reaching his shoulder. No time to process what’s happening, you dig your teeth into the skin showing from his nightgown.

“Ah!” That cry wasn’t one of surprise, but pleasure.

“There, now we both have boo boos.” The joke doesn’t process with him, too busy panting - eyes not focused on anything.

“You okay?” His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him. Based on the hardness pressed against your panties, he’s more than okay.

“You liked that?” He only nods, words failing.

He’s too much, and not enough. The pink flush across his cheeks, twitching between his thighs, and soft pants- wetness already damping your underwear.

Hand creeps up his back, landing snuggly in his hair at the base of his head. One small tug and he folds, granting access to the expanse of his neck. Wasting no time, you sink your teeth into the unmarked skin. Not enough to bruise, but it leaves a ring of small crescents. But that's not enough, for either of you.

One bite turns into two, then three, soon his neck is almost as pink as his cheeks. The last bit is the hardest, even when he cries out in pleasure, you don't pull away. Instead giving a small suck to the abused skin.

“Oh- ahh…” He falls back, your weight on top of him. Back of his hand flies up to his mouth, trying to silence some of the cries leaving him.

“When we agreed to try new things, I never had this in mind.”

“Quiet.” He tries to be intimidating, but fails completely.

“Seems like you’re the one making all the noise.” All it takes is small thrusts against his dick to get him squirming again.

Reaching down to rub him through the nightgown, his cock leaving a small wet patch on the fabric.

“P-please…” he whimpers, and just the desperation alone has you throbbing. “Touch me.”

“I am, pretty boy.”

“Don’t be annoying.” he glares, at least tries to. The rubbing becomes full on jerking, making his leg kick a bit. Like he’s full of energy that needs to be released somehow.

Shifting off him, and laying beside him. Pulling the gown up to reveal his muscular thighs and dripping cock. Small veins travel up the shaft, leaking pink tip revealed, twitching and begging for stimulation.

“Wanna come?” These two words have him nodding eagerly, shame is the last thing on his mind right now.

Starting to jerk him off again, and his reaction is immediate. Nothing but a jumble of ‘yes’ and ‘more’.

But once your hand slows to a complete halt, his eyes snap open, irritated.

“I was close.”

“I know.”

Moving down the bed until your mouth is by his crotch, planting a kiss on his weeping tip.

“But I wanted you to finish in my mouth…” his dick twitches, but you still ask, “Is that alright?”

To which he nods so fast he might have pulled something.

Smirking as you bring your lips back to his cock, giving the shaft a few kitten licks, gouging his reaction.

“You wanna come for me, Adrian?” Sucking on his tip, saltiness filling your mouth.

“F-fuck! Yes!” His head tosses side to side, blonde hair splayed against the pillow. Such a lovely sight.

“Good boy.”

[facingfibro]

Just a reminder to be kind to yourselves today and everyday.

Take care of yourself as if you would an ill loved one. You deserve that cozy blanket, with the good show, a hot bath and that warm cup of tea.

Be kind to your body and what love it can manage to give you today and what love you can manage to give it.

Yoga is a wonderful option for some pain relief with Fibromyalgia and chronic pain in general. Yoga can help release tension from cramped up and tense muscles. Yoga is also a great stress buster and helps to reduce those feelings and effectively relax our nervous system. If you’re like me, high intensity workouts hurt me more than help me - being able to ease into each yoga pose slowly and be able to hold it for as long as it feels good for you and your body helps you feel both relaxed in your muscles and energized in your mind.

I like to curate a morning and evening yoga routine with the few practices I keep in my back pocket for those extremely high pain days.

Here’s a few yoga poses I suggest to help release some of that fibromyalgia tension and pain most of us experience:

1. Childs Pose - This asana helps to calm the mind.

It also gives a good stretch to the arms, shoulders, back, and hips.

2. Legs up the wall pose - By taking the weight off your feet, this pose helps relax the muscles of the hips and legs.

It relieves you of fatigue, a major symptom of fibromyalgia.

3. Cobra Pose - This pose helps flex the upper and middle back, another main affected area in fibromyalgia.

It also helps strengthen the arm muscles.

It helps improve blood circulation to various parts of the body.

It reduces fatigue; you feel deeply relaxed as you open up your shoulders and chest.

4. Bridge pose - This gives you a deep stretch to your back and wards off fatigue.

It also helps calm the nervous system so you feel less anxious.

It strengthens the back muscles, a possible tender point in those suffering from fibromyalgia.

5. Corpse Pose - It calms the mind and reduces both stress and fatigue.

It relieves headaches and sundry pains.

It helps you sleep better at night.

It may take you some time to get adjusted to these poses and how they feel for you but I advise to at least try them once, once a day, even just for 30 seconds. You’ve got this and most importantly…always listen to what your body needs from you. There’s no shame in having to adjust for ourselves and what we need to feel better in our bodies. Take care everyone 🦋

Ps. I posted some photos of each pose in the comments from google..each picture has the name of the pose underneath it. 🪬 and I also included a photo of my adorable yoga partner, my doodle who loves to join me on my mat everyday.

Think of those things we are grateful for❤️

[rosesloveletters]

violets in the snow.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Reader

Word Count: 2,733

Warnings: no major content warnings apply.

Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Reader allows Wonka to open one present early.

Author's Note: I know Gene was Jewish, even though I believe he said he wasn't exactly religious. I have no intention of trying to be offensive/belittle/make light of anyone's religion or beliefs and I apologize if it comes across that way because it is without a doubt not my intention. I simply wrote this as a Christmas fic because that's the holiday I celebrate and I wanted to write reader giving Wonka a sweet gift.  

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

Winter winds blustered across the barren landscape beyond the sprawling complex of Wonka Industries. Inside, temperatures were comfortable, but the distant crackling of the fireplace and the holiday decorations you had put up in your shared living space reminded you that the heart of December was far from being thawed. 

It was Christmas eve and you were right where you belonged: snuggled up to your lover’s chest, burrowed beneath a soft knitted blanket of plush purple plum yarn. 

You and Wonka had sipped several mugs of cocoa throughout the evening, keeping yourselves in the festive spirit while also keeping warm and taste-testing a batch of hot chocolate with a brand-new twist that he planned to debut next month.  

Its warming properties had already worked their magic. 

Your outer extremities, fingers and toes which were almost always cold were now warm to the touch and kept you comfortable instead of shivering and feeling lethargic. Wonka’s new hot cocoa worked specifically for people whose blood circulation needed a bit of a boost, especially during the winter. Even if your body typically ran hot, this new hot chocolate benefitted most everyone when the weather turned brutally cold.  

He had been hard at work this season, creating new treats to unveil for the holidays while expediting production for maximum return. He never sacrificed the quality of his confections, however, as he would only promise to deliver the best of the best for his devoted customers across the globe. 

However, Wonka only had to please one heart this Christmas and all his efforts would be worthwhile. 

You did not expect or demand anything of your lover, other than his simple presence in the quaint little life he’d built for you both. You didn’t need gifts or candies or sweets, you needed his sweet mouth to whisper verses into your ear and the gift of his gracefulness as he swept you into his arms and cradled you to his body. 

You wanted presence of mind, not tangible presents. You wanted memories for you and him to hold on to, laughter to warm you on long, winter nights and hours of conversation to carry you through till dawn. 

Wonka could give you that and decided he would stop at nothing to please you in every way he knew how. He would pull out every tool in his arsenal, every scrap of wit on his tongue, fire in his belly, thought in his head and love in his heart to make this most wonderful time of the year more memorable than any you had lived before to date. He had held a heart or two in his time, but yours was worth holding onto. He wanted you to know that you were special beyond words and so he poured his love into you like the waterfall which churned the great chocolate river in his beloved chocolate room. 

You wanted to taste the caramel threads in his blue eyes, to bite his licorice heartstrings and devour his chocolate heart already melted from the warmth of your love. He was the only one you wanted this Christmas, your shimmering sugar rush that set your veins on fire and filled you with energy, motivation and desire. 

You loved everything about him, from his creativity to the unapologetic sincerity of his character. 

Wonka did not let you forget that he was a force to be reckoned with because he set out to teach lessons, give advice and guidance, but there was a side of him that no one knew quite like you did. Even if you questioned him or tried to make sense of it, he found little ways of surprising you without giving you a hint. You could not expect this man to divulge a lifetime of secrets to you in such a short time, yet you dreamed of what the inside of his mind looked like and hoped with all hope that those thoughts in his head were kind. 

There was a lot you knew about Willy Wonka, but far more that you didn’t. That was the fun of him, really, to not know what you were getting into, however, if Wonka guaranteed you one thing, that was consistency.

Nothing about the man ever changed, though his lack of a routine was somewhat maddening, you could count on his actions towards you to remain unchanged. You were careful when entering any relationship, platonic or romantic, because you sustained a permanent soul tremor from plunging through thin ice when you should have tread more carefully. 

Willy treated you the same, on good days and bad; he loved you more than anyone ever had. 

He gave so much and you decided it was high time to repay the favor. 

You got off the couch, extracted yourself from the warmth pocket you had settled into over the course of the evening and walked to the tree you had insisted he help you put up and decorate. He didn’t make a fuss when you asked him to help you decorate the living space; he was pleased that you wanted to bring a little sparkle that he normally would not have created for himself. He was far too busy to fuss over decorations when his candy sales shot through the roof every holiday season, but he made time this year because it was important to you and therefore it was important to him, too. After all, it felt homier to have decorations and he felt much more festive each day when he would look at them. The Christmas spirit was alive in his heart and he owed it more to you than to any mere decoration.

His eyes followed your movement, twin blue flames which had escaped from the fireplace and burned brightly within him instead. He watched as you selected a very specific present from beneath the tree, a flat rectangular box covered in festive wrapping paper and topped with a bright red bow. Wonka raised an eyebrow as you brought it over to him and held it out for him to take. 

He peered at you questioningly as you offered him the gift box, “what’s this for, my dear?”

“Just take it!” you laughed and he finally did, his fingers delicately wrapping around the box as he placed it on his lap. He looked at it for a moment as if he couldn’t believe that any of those presents under the tree were for him.

Who else would they be for?

Wonka looked up at you with a delighted smile on his face, “you know, I thought we were supposed to wait until morning.”

“I know, I know,” you replied, “but whenever I was little, I used to get so excited to open my presents that my parents would let me open one gift on Christmas eve.”

“Ah,” Wonka smiled fondly at your anecdote and nodded in understanding as he glanced down at the present in his lap, “so this one…you’re wanting me to open it now?”

You nodded as you pulled your legs up onto the couch and tucked them under yourself as you sat up a little straighter to watch him open the gift. 

This was your first time sharing Christmas traditions with Wonka; you wanted to share everything with him, and you decided you would start with what was closest to your heart. The season of giving meant tearing off a piece of your soul and pressing it into the folds of a love letter penned for the man who had made you feel whole again. You wanted to dedicate every day to him, not just special ones because when you were with Wonka, every day was special in its own unique way. 

You watched with bated breath as Wonka gently lifted the wrapping paper from where you’d taped up the end. He ever so carefully peeled back the folded edge, then cheekily tore into it like he were an excited child on Christmas morning. You watched him fondly, wishing to reach out and touch him, to brush his strawberry blonde curls out of his face, but you knew that would ruin the moment. Instead, you merely watched him open the present, eager to get to the inside and see what it was that you simply could not wait to give him until the morning. 

“Hm, let’s see here…” Wonka hummed to himself as he flipped the now unwrapped box over. It was clear that this was a shirt box, although that gave away little information as to what kind of shirt it was. 

Willy began to peel back several pieces of tape where you’d secured the box before wrapping it. 

“I hope you like it,” you whispered, uncertain what his reaction was going to be when he saw what you’d gotten for him, “if not, I’m sure I could return it.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Willy looked up at you, his blue gaze was one of reassurance, “I’m certain that I will love it.”

Not as much as you, my dear.

Willy removed the rest of the tape from the box and flipped it over, then lifted the top. Inside was several layers of red tissue paper to conceal the gift and Willy sifted through to find what you had hidden inside the packaging for him. He brushed the paper to the side and his fingers brushed fabric. He was intrigued; the material was unlike anything in his current wardrobe. 

He lifted it out of the box, the piece of fabric unfolding as he did so and he held it up. 

It was a gorgeous, rich plum color that matched his coat, except this article of clothing was a sweater. It appeared to be handmade with thick yarn, perfect for colder weather, and was soft to the touch like crushed velvet. He admired the sweater and his hands caressed the sleeves, appreciating the finer details: the curved neckline and fitted hem and cuffs as well as the oversized fit which would hang loosely off his broad frame – you had sized it impeccably to fit his body type and preference. 

“You always wear the same thing, not that I’m implying it as a bad thing, but I thought you might want to switch it up from time to time,” you tried to explain, “so I had the idea of getting you a sweater because I thought it might be warmer and I picked the color to match your coat. I wasn’t sure if you would like it, but I can always find you something else, if you-”

He cut you off midsentence and you blushed as you realized how much you had been rambling; His speaking voice took on the gentlest tone you had ever heard, “I love it. Thank you, my dear.”

You were about to insist that he didn’t have to lie to you, but the words died on your tongue as you watched him slide his arms into the sweater and pull it on over his head. When his head popped out from the neckline, you nearly giggled at his frizzy, wild hair which was mussed from pulling the material over his head. There was no controlling it; his hair was unmanageable on a good day and besides, it was the last thing on his mind currently. 

He was too busy admiring the sweater you had gifted him, his round, rosy cheeks bulged at the edges of a smile, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more prominent as he squinted in delight. To say he was pleased was an understatement. Wonka appreciated all gifts he was given because he was always grateful and honored to be worthy of someone wanting to bestow a gift upon him, but this was something of great wonder. You had chosen this gift because it had reminded you of him, at least, the color had done. 

Judging by his sweater paws, you had chosen the right size. Wonka liked oversized outer vestments and this was the perfect touch; he looked precious in it, swimming in the warm wool that enveloped his body in warmth and comfort like a big hug. 

“It looks even better on you than I thought it would,” you complimented him, giving him a satisfied smile as he looked over at you with love in his eyes, “I’m happy that you like it.”

“I love it,” he repeated, resisting the urge to hug himself as he deliberately snuggled into the sweater for emphasis, “and I think it’ll see a lot of wear this winter, if it’s going to be as cold as is being predicted.” 

You nodded. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, he looked so sweet in the sweater, his eyes lit up with excitement and his hands still appreciating the incredibly soft fabric. Wonka’s mannerisms were like that of a small child, despite his age; he was ecstatic over being given a present and offered you many more thanks as you sat beside him on the sofa. 

He leaned over and scooped you into a full-bodied hug where you almost ended up on his lap because he was so eager to hold you against him. You let out a sweet bout of laughter and kissed his warm cheek, making him coo and nuzzle against your neck a little bit.

“I love you, my dear,” he whispered in your ear, “thank you for this, truly.”

“You’re welcome, Willy. You deserve it.”

You deserve the entire world and I’d give it to you in a heartbeat if it were mine to give. 

You didn’t say those words, but even never voiced, he knew. He could see the sentiment reflected in the depths of your eyes, which was perhaps why he lost himself in them so often. The echoes of words you never said reverberated against the walls of his heart and he could feel them bludgeoning the inside of his ribcage with a barrage of activity the likes of which his cardiovascular system had never endured before. It was comparable to butterflies taking flight in his stomach, except this didn’t make him feel like he might spill his guts.

Instead, his heart swelled with affection, he viewed the world in colors you had taught him to see and he lived life with new purpose. His dreams held meaning and he finally understood what it was all for. Perhaps it was the magic of the holidays that permeated the air and embedded in his bones, but he was content to live the rest of his life like this. He felt as though he was seeing for the very first time, kissing you was the first sip of water taken after being dehydrated, his grip on you stronger than gravity. 

You were who his heart belonged to and if his heart were an apartment, you had rented the biggest room. 

He was violently delighted by the promise of the new year and what was to come for the two of you, but for now, he was content to succumb to his need for peace, quiet and relaxation amid his company’s busiest season. You offered him reprieve from the bustle of the holidays and he would sink into the refreshing haze, allowing himself to be swept away by you and the love you both had to give. 

You would take this moment, just for the two of you, seizing it and holding it in the palm of your hand. You would never let go, of him, of this holiday, of your love. It meant far too much to you now, having finally learnt why you spent your whole life trying to put into words how a moment like this might feel. 

Now, you knew. 

You did not have to try, you only had to feel. 

When anyone asked you what your favorite color was, you got vulnerable because your skin was berry-stained, your bruised heart abused by the love it was forced to feel now that you ached for the cookie-cutter metal stars to punch holes through your lungs so you could breathe him in more strongly. 

He was all over you and you clung to him like the most resilient flowers in winter, like violets in the snow. 

“Now, darling,” Wonka began, hands on his knees as he hoisted himself off the couch and approached the hoard of gifts beneath your tree, “I do believe there’s something under here for you…”

[annie-quill]

🖍 YOUR INTERPRETATION OF DARK WITH HOW DAMIEN AND CELINE WORK INSIDE GOGOGO AM BIG INTEREST IN SEEING HOW PEOPLE VIEW DARK!!!!

For some reason I was simply STRUGGLING to draw Dark so he gets to be a cunty lil headshot 😭 anyways at least one of these two is trans and I won’t say who (@hollow-sleep)

The twins were born into a wealthy political family with Japanese background, identical and often. Simply interchanged for one another by their parents. Being the daughter, Celine’s only role in life is to marry rich and be taken care of by a man. Damien follows in their father’s footsteps by working to be a political figure in their town, even if he can only make his way to mayor, he had bigger ambitions.

The two did have their faults though: Damien avoided the draft for war with a bad knee, and has never been good at keeping money due to his gambling addiction. Celine married her husband for status and financial support, while longing for her actual interest in William while he was at war. Not to mention her interest in witchcraft, creating “spells” and causing slight mischief towards those she’s unfond of-

As for the entity known as Dark.. they are so Cold your hand feels like its burning to touch them. They are in a constant type of pain, back and ribs aching, Damien’s old leg pain flaring up even if this body never suffered that damage. It’s a very odd feeling to look at a body that is nothing like your own, to touch it and feel both the pressure of your own hand and the skin beneath it as two separate things. To have a constant ringing in your ears that never fades, a creeping void that feels like a constant buzzing, like a limb that’s “waking up” after losing blood circulation. They never feel warm, people avoid touching them to keep that creeping aura from taking them as well- not to mention, the mental torment, the memories of what happened that night, of trying to keep conflicting personalities from coming out. To force yourselves to act as one to keep from disturbing others, or triggering their husband’s repressed memories..

Uhhh anyways Darkiplier is my least favorite ego can you tell??? /j

[priyarussian]

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[akshayenterprises46]

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[apalestar]

A slip back into the dead of night away from the smell of corpse and entrails. Astarion sparred nary a thought to staying once released. More than a lifetime’s share of viscera witnessed. The only thing missing was the ambiance of chittering bats and growling wolves. He left the sanctuary proper.

The Grove surprisingly active given the time of night. Several of the residents whispered amongst one another. Rumor and gossip spread quickly among this insular community. How their guest killed Drow on their doorstep. Kagha’s march to demand retribution. From them the news circulated and spread. The assassination attempt of their most beloved Archdruid. Someone among her retinue opened their mouth. Let Halsin’s secret be known.

‘Our Archdruid? Our Halsin? Nooo. That can’t be.’

‘To the Drow? Will more of them come? Do we need to fear Drow raiding parties now?’

‘How could someone so large like Halsin be taken as a slave? Couldn’t he have overpowered them?’

Slavery was a norm in some areas of the Sword Coast. A backdrop of life Astarion had grown callous to. He couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy in himself for others that shared a similar circumstance to his own. Yet something rankled in him hearing in the judgement cast towards Halsin. The hair on his neck standing on end. The minute twitch of his lips in the instinctual urge to bear his fangs to a threat. The crimson gleam of his eyes in the moonlight.

Their glances made their way towards him for none of the right reasons. An angered vampire still coated in a mixture of his own blood and the Drow’s. A hushed silence fell over the small group of them. “Oh please don’t stop spilling out your drivel on my account. Do go on.” He resisted the urge to reach for the dagger on his belt. “Your ignorance is rather entertaining. Easy to judge a situation when you’re not in it, isn’t it?”

“Hm. I do wonder would you repeat yourselves were Halsin here. I’m sure he’d love your pedestrian commentary.” Perhaps next time he’d lead the Drow to their doorsteps instead of killing them. Let these coddled druids be hunted for a change.

“We meant no disrespect to the Archdruid.”

“Of course not!” A tone reflected he didn’t believe a word of it. “Whatever you want to tell yourself so you can sleep at night.” He watched them cower at being called out. How disturbed they were to be in the presence of a vampire working in his favor. Eventually, Astarion grew tired of the stand-off leaving them to their gossip.

He departed beyond the walls and into the forest. Too high-strung and furious to do much else. Astarion remained away until the pull of exhaustion informed him of the coming dawn. He returned to the safety and darkness of the inner sanctum where he found Halsin still awake.

“The sun is rising, darling. I was bound to return at this hour.” If Halsin was still awake and the body just now being stitched back together. “Did you really stay up through the whole night working on—“ He motioned over to the dead Drow. “—that? You did remember only one of us is nocturnal?”

"That I do," he agrees to the fact of dissecting the corpse, though he wonders if he should keep the body intact for Nettie to join him later... though time was of the essence. She'd understand why he didn't wait for her when the time came to tell her what had happened. Surely she had already heard, part of Halsin wondered when she'd approach him and speak on the matter amongst themselves.

Regardless, Astarion's reaction had Halsin smiling, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he nods, letting his hands drop from Astarion's shoulders and taking a step back to allow the vampire space to leave as he wished. "As you wish, my friend. I will see you .... when I see you," his hesitation was clear, waiting for Astarion to leave before he made his move

His work was important to him, there was no doubt about it. Losing himself to his actions and his studies of the body as he cut and observed, he could almost forget about what had happened, what he had been forced to reveal to the grove as a result of Kagha's actions...

Almost.

Lost to his studies, he doesn't realize how much time has passed before Nettie is suddenly there, handing him tools, helping him with his observations while making her own. They worked together quite well, and by the time Astarion makes his way back to the study, the dissection was nearly complete.

"Ah, you return," Halsin speaks, stepping back from the body as he gestures for Nettie to finish sewing the poor drow back together. Going to the water pot, he washes his hands free of the gore on his hands.

[thenightling]

A malicious "meme" has been circulating in Goth and Gothic themed Facebook groups. The main source is an account named "Thomas Thomas" that I suspect is a bot account designed to cause discord in Gothic circles. Rather than write something new, here is what I said about it in my Sandman Facebook group.

____________________________

I just saw a post with a "meme" of "Real Goths" and a "Poseur" depicted as a little girl in Goth clothing who likes the look and is into faeries but isn't a fan of Goth music. The post even attempted to lampshade itself by acting like anyone who would call this behavior gatekeeping is an idiot or not a true Goth.

This is NOT a group to post pretentious garbage shaming people for liking Goth aesthetic. If someone likes the look, the ambiance, the mood, the themes, and isn't a fan of the music, you have no right to tell them how to dress or what they can or cannot love. If someone likes Goth aesthetic but isn't a fan of the music... Leave them alone.

It could be that they are "Gothic" in a love of Gothic literature, film, or other media. No one ever told the Addams Family that they have to listen to The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, or Aurelio Voltaire (though they probably would love Voltaire).

Yes, Goth is about the music. But you are deliberately shaming people for having an interest in a Goth Aesthetic, there is a difference.

Neo Victorian is also a subset of Goth but you won't find any true Victorian Goth music.

And no, you don't need to know the whole history of the Punk scene but it does help and The Ramones song Pet Sematary (deliberately misspelt as it is named for the Stephen King novel) is very Goth.

Whether you want to accept it or not, there ARE different kinds of Goth. Making a "meme" acting like some Baby Bat can't like Goth aesthtics just because she's not into the music and likes faeries is not okay! Stop acting like pretentious teenagers! Saying "It's not gatekeeping" doesn't make it any less gatekeeping.

What are you doing?! What the Hell do you think you're doing?! Shaming children for dipping their toes in? Trying to scare them away? And you don't think that's Gatekeeping and even go "it's not Gatekeeping" to lampshade it!

I don't know what possessed you to think I'd be okay with that kind of "It's not gatekeeping!" post here.

KNOCK IT OFF!!!!

The anti-faeries thing was odd considering Maleficent, and the folkloric presence of things like the Dullahan (headless Horsemen), goblins, Banshees, and Red caps (who literally soak their caps in the blood of those they killed). A Banshee is a type of faary. Bean Sidhe (Lady Faery). Souls of the dead can become fae in Irish tradition. And there is a very popular Goth band named for Banshees. I have banned the person who made the post with the "not gatekeeping" "meme" because of the conspicuous picture of random white guy in sunglasses (the common troll account picture now). The account name was "Thomas Thomas." (That looks SO real...) And he only had one follower.

Those of you that commented and AGREED with him, you are ALL on thin ice! How DARE you act this way here! How DARE you call yourselves Goth and then gatekeep while saying you're not gatekeeping. How DARE you treat newbies this way! How DARE you!

I consider myself Goth but I don't feel the need to like *All* Goth music. In fact, technically, my favorite 80s band is New Wave (Oingo Boingo) followed closely by Queen and David Bowie. Shall I turn in my Goth card?

[wearywinchester]

Sting and Burn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When an argument over a hunt that’s gone wrong leads to the reveal of an injury, anger begins to fade in favor of something much softer–comfort.

Requested by Anonymous: “Can I please request 4, 5 and 9 from the prompt list?? With Dean saying it to the reader.”

Prompts used: “gosh, that wound looks awful.” “tell me if it hurts.”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, swearing, fighting, mentions of blood, fluff, kissing

The tension that swirled around you had become thicker with each passing second, the quiet between you having done nothing in your favor. Surely, that silence was providing both of you with ample opportunity to think about your next argument, your next string of words with more than enough venom weaving around the words.

The scenery and the weather had done very little to help the atmosphere and the seemingly ever building frustration between two equally stubborn hunters. You were making your way back through the woods, the sky darkening a bit in the hour. The gloomy sky and infrequent drizzle of rain only added to the overcast nature of it all. It only added to the misery circulating around the two of you in a suffocating and angry bubble.

The hunt didn’t go as planned, and that’s the way things go more often than not. The only difference is the scale on which things go south, the severity of how bad things get when hunts get unpredictable and seemingly beyond your control.

A lone werewolf turned to two, two of the most protective werewolves you had ever seen and they didn’t go down without a fight. You were down a hunter, Sam having hung back at Bobby’s with a broken arm and a sprained ankle. You were down the extra strength and power that was needed to take on two monsters that had more than enough of both to overtake even you and the older Winchester. You were strong, you were capable, but not fangs and claws and supernatural strength capable.

Things got out of control for a little while back there, a small amount of time that seemed much more exaggerated when in the thick of it. Things moved out from the cabin they’d hunkered down in, got taken into the woods when they tried to make their exit and that’s when things started to become harder and harder to plan your next move around.

That’s when the instinct to be protective had gone into overdrive, Dean’s need to keep you safe becoming parallel to your need to keep him safe, forming a spiraling ball of anger and miscommunication. That fierce need to put yourselves in harm’s way for the sake of keeping the other out of it, it’s only brought distraction from the hunt and the task at hand, has only brought with it a burning frustration and pent up anger at each other’s stubbornness.

But Dean’s frustration, his stubbornness and sheer need to protect you has outweighed yours by leaps and bounds even if you would beg to differ.

It’s no secret that he’s got issues with anger, that he’s got no idea how to handle his emotions because he cares too deeply to do anything but speak before he thinks, to act now and ask questions later. He doesn’t see why, or want anyone to put themselves in the slightest bit of danger for his sake because he has never deemed himself to be worthy of any bit of it. He never has and that mindset won’t ever change for him. He doesn’t like when anyone would risk anything for him.

Especially when that person is you.

That fear, the fear of it for both of you was not at all expressed in the ideal way it should have come out. Not even a little and it was a snowball of wit and anger that only grew the more downhill things went.

“Could you huff again? I didn’t hear you the last million times you’ve done it in the past five minutes,” you grumble, jaw tensing as you walk along the path that you were hoping lead back to the cabin where your duffel bags had been discarded in favor of chasing a couple of werewolves.

“That’s real rich, you know that, sweetheart?” He says, looking down at you with a narrowed gaze. “Why don’t you take your own advice sometime, might do you some good.”

Your own brows knit together in an instant in a glare he catches before he turns his head, hands stuffed in his pockets as he picks up his pace a fraction.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You scoff, utterly confused and too angry to do anything but be just that.

You hear the bitterness of his laugh, the lack of humor in it as he shakes his head, the simple action only worsening things even more than they already had been. He was digging his heels in, partially because of his own stubbornness, and partially because he’s got no ounce of a clue on how to relay to you just how much he cared for you more than he’s already shown. You know he does, but not how earth shatteringly much. You know he does, but all the two of you could focus on was who could be more frustrated.

“Nothing,” he says, dismissive in the way he always gets.

Your brows furrow a little deeper, glare narrowing a little bit more as you watch him walk ahead a little bit more.

“It’s not nothing, Dean. That’s a load of crap.”

“Oh is it?” He said, that same humorless amusement in his tone. “I forgot, you know everything.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing down the fierce urge to spew more and more anger when that’s all you wanted to do. He was so damn hard to talk to when you’ve both got your defenses so stacked up you refuse to back down. It was all about tossing around sarcasm and wit, all about beating around the bush rather than saying what you really mean.

“Never said that,” you say, and you don’t need to see him to know he’s got that bitter smile on his face, one to match the equally bitter laugh he’d let fall past his lips moments earlier.

“Didn’t need to,” he says, nearly muffled with the way he walked a pace or two ahead.

Your frustration wasn’t easing any, not even a little bit. It was building and building and you saw the way Dean’s jaw had been clenched tight as ever. He was angry.

He was pissed.

You’d gone and pushed him out of the way for the sake of letting a werewolf take a cheap shot at you instead of him. You went and did something he would do, you went and risked your neck all for the sake of saving his skin so he can live to see another day.

He was pissed that you cared so much about him, him. He doesn’t feel he deserves it in any sense. He holds you in the highest regard possible, cares about you so much it’s nearly maddening. And that was the problem. The more he let himself care, the more opportunity it gave for his heart to be ripped to shreds.

He was pissed because you put yourself in the position to be taken out of his life in an instant and it scared him more than anything. He felt selfish to think that, but he couldn’t help but to have that very thing in a loop. He was so beyond worked up that you did that, and he knows you’ll do it again and it drives him nuts because he knows that for a fact.

There was one thing he didn’t quite know.

You were hurt.

You were hurting much more than you let on but it’s the same every time you do. You don’t say anything.

You don’t need to say anything, not when you’ve got Dean Winchester watching you like a hawk every time you look away, that furrow in his brow that’s ever familiar. He knows somethings wrong, he knows you’re hurting much more than what you told him, or rather what you didn’t. He doesn’t need for you to tell him to know you got hurt real bad, must have. He knows you better than you think, although you’re not making it too difficult to see that. He knows you’re hurt, a whole lot more than that cut that curves over your lip at the corner of your mouth.

You’ve got this scratch that ran along your palm, not deep enough to need stitches but not superficial enough to keep from hurting almost more than you can hide. It stretched along your palm and extended to the side of your arm about an inch past your wrist, a stinging pain that was hard to ignore. It was a pain that fueled your irritability because you didn’t want to fight with Dean, but there was so much frustration packed into everything that made it so hard to shove it down when all the two of you could be was stubborn.

The rain coming down in a steady, light mist was cool against the heat in your cheeks, cool in contrast to your temper as you felt your heart pound in your chest. You were burning up, at least that’s what it felt like, and Dean wasn’t that far off.

“Why don’t you ever just say what you mean?” You say, a certain anger and vulnerability in your tone.

“Because it doesn’t mean anything,” he dismisses.

“Yes, it does,” you say frustratedly, quickening your pace to walk alongside him. “You won’t even look at me.”

It’s then that you do it, that you forget yourself and your hand that’s worse for wear and reach out. That you reach for him and grab his arm to grasp his attention. He doesn’t see the way you recoil, the way you tug back the moment the pain catches up with you and jolts up your arm in an intensified wave of pain.

You bring your hand to your chest to cradle it momentarily, holding in another gasp to try and keep things unnoticeable.

He doesn’t notice at first, doesn’t hear the softness of your gasp over the crunch of leaves and twigs under heavy steps, over the rain or over the sound of his own voice.

“Tell you what I mean? What I mean is the way you feel the need to put your ass on the line for me. What I mean is how scary it is how reckless you let yourself be just to—”

It’s when he spins around on his heel that he cuts himself short, it’s when he turns back to look at you that he sees the way your face scrunches in a discomfort that you fought so hard to hide. But he sees the way you hold your hand close before you drop it in favor of looking tougher than you need to be. He sees the crimson smudged lightly along your palm, unmistakable on your skin.

It’s when he sees it all that he cuts himself short, that his brows furrowed deeper than they were before but in a way that’s not so angry. In a way that’s much more concerned at much less filled with frustration.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, soft and cautious as he watches your expression change. “Give me your hand.”

The look you’ve got on your face hardens, that need to be defensive returning now that he’s gone and seen the fact that you really weren’t okay. At the fact that you really were hurt all because you wanted to play hero, stubborn hero and step in before he could get hurt like you did.

“‘M fine.”

“Y/n, don’t start with that,” he says and you roll your eyes, brushing past him.

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” you insist, taking your turn in walking ahead to get to the cabin that was in view.

You could hear his heavy sigh from behind you, could hear the stomp of his footsteps that took no effort in catching up with you until you quickened your pace.

“You want me to tell you what I mean, to be upfront, and you won’t even do the same damn thing. Tell me, Y/n, what the hell sense does that make?” He says, that frustration coming back but different than before.

“It means I’m fine, Dean! It’s a stupid scratch that’ll heal in a week, it’s a stupid injury, and it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before!” You say, the tone of your voice raising more and more.

The upset in your voice became more apparent, the hurt that you truly felt over something you passed off as just a scratch became more obvious. It hurt more than you let on and it was beginning to show more than ever as you stormed into the cabin with the older Winchester right on your heels.

“Sweetheart,” he says.

“What?” You say, a little more harsh than you meant things to be as you turned around, meeting his gaze.

It was concern more than it was that anger from a little while ago, in fact, that anger was almost completely nonexistent by that point. You swallowed thickly as you looked at him, holding your breath briefly as your shoulders slumped and released some of the tension that had been held in there.

It was a fleeting few moments that felt longer than that, feeling frozen as he looked at you and the way you tried so hard not to give up the hold you had on trying to appear okay. A fleeting few moments before he lifted his hand and motioned towards the tattered and roughed up couch that sat crooked and out of its place in the torn up cabin.

You don’t put up much of a fight this time, turning on your heel and heading towards the couch, taking a seat on a torn cushion. He crossed the room in a few strides, snagging his duffel bag. He rooted around in it for a moment or two, grabbing his first aid kit with a quiet a-ha.

He stood to his feet as he looked around the room, eyes landing on the bottle of peroxide that lay halfway across the floor that’d gotten there in the midst of the earlier brawl with a werewolf. He bent down and grabbed that too, his attention returning to you as he wound up in front of you, kicking a pillow and a miscellaneous scrap of wood from the coffee table that sat in shambles after having taken a blow earlier.

You watched as he opened up the kit, your breathing still borderline heavy from you dissolving anger, from the way you quickened your pace out of spite just minutes ago. He swiped the roll of gauze and a few cotton pads, closing the lid and nudging the kit off to the side as he set the materials down on the couch cushion beside you.

“Alright, let me see,” he said, holding his hand out with a light waving of his fingers to urge you to give him your own.

That crease between your brows deepens, the clench of your jaw tightening as you bite the inside of your cheek. You take a moment before you do, setting your hand in his own palm up as you let out a sigh.

He felt the way your hand trembled in his palm, a steady shake that hadn’t been there when you held his hand that morning when he helped you down the less than ideal stairs of that dilapidated house you’d caught a lead of those werewolves on.

His gaze flickers down to your hand, to the scratch borderline cut running jagged along your palm as crimson smudges around it. There’s some dirt smeared on your skin too, and he can tell it’s only adding to its irritation, to its stinging and burning and it makes him swallow down his huff. One that’s not at you, but rather the situation.

“Gosh, that wound looks awful,” he says, voice quieter than you expected, less gruff than you expected.

But that anger he felt, that frustration, it was still there. Of course it was still there. But it wasn’t directed at you anymore, it was directed at the fangs and claws that’d gone and tore up his sweetheart without second thought and it made him angry, made him furious.

You simply shrug, passing it off as you always did.

“It’s alright,” you mumble, quiet and a little more timid.

He releases your hand for a moment to pop the cap on the peroxide, pouring a generous amount on a cotton pad before finding your hand again. His gaze lifts to yours, his question in his eyes before he even asks it aloud.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he says, looking at you carefully, “okay?”

You nod, nudging him with your boot. “I’ll be fine. Just a scratch.”

He doesn’t quite believe that, in fact, he doesn’t believe it at all with the subtle way you’re bouncing your knee, or the way you’re tense as he holds your hand open. He’s gentle as he presses the cotton pad to your skin, light-handed as he swipes away at the dirt and blood. It stings, it burns real bad and you try your hardest not to make it obvious that it hurts way more than you’re letting on.

He notices the way you pull back slightly, the way you tense up and it’s not hard to see the discomfort in your expression. You’re tough as nails, but he’s always been able to see right through that. He’ll always be able to see right through any lie you tell in order to appear stronger, to appear tougher, even if it’s a simple scratch on a hunt.

But he can see you’re not quite as unbothered as you’re making yourself out to be.

The way you’d obtained that injury was quite simple, you pushed Dean out of the way before things could go south. You got between him and a damn werewolf and raised your hands to guard your face. That’s when it happened, that’s when they took a swipe at you and he grazed his claws along your hand. It wasn’t the result of any grand heroic gesture, of anything super special, but it hurt real bad and that fact wasn’t changing.

You tugged your hand away for a moment when he’d cleaned over a sensitive spot, the burn of it jolting and ebbing away slowly as his gaze lifts to yours. He’s patient, cautious as he grasps your hand once more, the pad of his thumb brushing over the heel of your hand.

“Sorry,” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek.

He pays your apology no mind, because there’s no need to apologize, not even a little. Instead, he smiles softly, softer than ever as a quiet laugh leaves his lips.

“Remember that time you stole Baby? Back before my dad handed over the keys,” he says, continuing to clean everything up with the antiseptic.

You laughed softly, one he was quick to notice and it pulled his gaze up to see your smile, one that’s always been the prettiest he’s ever seen in his life. You laughed softly and bit your lip the way you do, releasing it after a moment. He was distracting you, from the task at hand, from the pain it’d caused. He was distracting you and you knew it, he was doing just that and it worked.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you say, eyeing the freckles that danced along the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, disappearing into his lashes and his brows in a variety of speckles.

“Stole my old man’s car, my dad, just to take us to get some pie at the diner at 2 o’clock in the morning,” he says, discarding the dirtied cotton pad in favor of grabbing the gauze. “Don’t know how he didn’t find out.”

You laugh again, just as soft and just as sweet as you nod, biting the inside of your cheek once more.

“Actually, he did find out. Kept the keys in his boot so I wouldn’t swipe them again,” you say, shrugging your shoulders when he looks at you with a raised brow. “Bobby told me.”

“And you never told me?” He asks, faux offense in his voice as he tears off a decent amount of gauze wrap from the roll, tossing it back in the kit.

“I’ve got to keep an element of surprise, Winchester,” you say.

You watch as he holds a fresh cotton pad in place with his thumb, using the other hand to wrap the gauze around your hand and secure it in place. The burning pain had subsided in favor of a dull discomfort, the feeling much more manageable, way more tolerable as you watched the way he worked with gentle hands. They were calloused and warm, a match to the gruffness of his personality but he couldn’t be more the opposite.

“Yeah, well, you’ve always been full of surprises, sweetheart,” he says, finishing up his wrapping before he brushes his thumb along the fresh material.

The softness of your smile remains as you nod, his hand still holding yours as you lift your gaze from your lap to his. You could still see the worry, the fear in his eyes. That anger hadn’t disappeared, not really. But it wasn’t focused towards you, he didn’t want to argue anymore. It bugged him, it bugged the hell out of him that you risked your own safety for him. That’s something that’ll always drive him nuts because he didn’t want you to do that just as much as you didn’t want him to.

It was quiet for a moment, quiet as his eyes glanced over your face, over the slightest wobble in your lip and that was close to disappearing. Over the cut that curved along that very lip, over stray tears that still remained partly glossy in your eyes despite the fact that you weren’t feeling so bad anymore.

You leaned in to rest your forehead against his, the bump of his nose on yours having been something that makes your smile continue to linger. A smile that sits on his lips and presses into yours with a soft kiss.

You sniff softly when you part, his nose bumping against your own once more as he clears his throat quietly. You’ve still got your forehead rested on his, and he’s still got your hand in his, fumbling with the loose end of the bandage wrapped around it. You’ve got something on your mind and he could tell from a mile away that you did.

“I didn’t do half bad today,” you murmur, your teasing smile in your words.

You feel his chuckle brush against your lips, against your skin, this one a million times more humorous.

“You kicked some werewolf ass today, sweetheart. But don’t gettin’ any ideas, you’re shaving years off my life, you know,” he says, a mix of humor and worry in his voice.

You hum quietly, softly as you nod against him. There have been better hunts, easier ones compared to this. There’s a stubborn quality the two of you have that’ll never change.

Tempers may flare, and injuries may sting and burn, but the care you’ve got for each other outshines anything else.

—

@flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @agalliasi @campingmonkey @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @vv1nch3st3r @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @happyt0exist @malindacath @awkward-and-indecisive @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @drownthewitch

[hoperenae]

WHAT IS LOVE BUT ANGER UNRAVELED?

This is my submission for @tsukina 's 3K collab event!

COLLAB MASTERLIST

THINGS TO KNOW: ⋰⋱ This is part of a much much longer fic I’ve been writing for months. ⋰⋱ You’re a squad leader in the Survey Corps, a couple of years behind Erwin.  ⋰⋱ You spend a lot of time with the newest recruits, the 104th training group, despite them being so much younger. ⋰⋱ You and Levi have a long and complicated history that started when he joined the survey corps a few years after you. ⋰⋱ Long story short, your older brother died as a result of Levi’s actions on his, Isabel, and Furlan’s first expedition beyond the wall. Your brother went after Levi to try and save him and got eaten by a titan. ⋰⋱ Therefore, even though you came to terms with it and forgave him years ago, you still hold anger for Levi, and he holds a tremendous amount of guilt for the death of not only his friends but your brother as well. WORD COUNT: 2.6k

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“I don’t know, my money is on y/n,” said Conny. It was dinner time, and for some reason, everyone was betting on who would win in a fight, you or Commander Erwin.

“Oh come on, Conny; don’t be an idiot,” you laughed. “Erwin has way more skill than me. He would easily kick my ass.” “She’s not wrong,” Jean agreed. You shot him a comical glare, which he then returned.

“Okay okay, fine. What about…” Conny thought for a moment. “What about Captain Levi?” You instinctively scoffed. 

“Easy. I win,” you stated, flickering your eyes over to where Levi was sitting. You hoped he heard you.

“I don’t know y/n,” Sasha began, “Captain Levi is really good at hand-to-hand combat. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’d stand a chance.” She grinned confidently, but you weren’t about to be shot down that easily.

“That little shit–and I do mean little–has nothing on me. I’d pin him to the ground before he took his first swing.”

“Y/n, keep your voice down; I think he heard you.” Sasha motioned toward Levi’s table. Sure enough, he was staring you down with his cold grey eyes. You stared back, unimpressed.

“Why don’t we settle it then,” Levi called, his voice flat and unamused, as if this whole conversation was beneath him. “Right here, right now. Who’s the better fighter?”

“You’re on.” You abruptly stood up and marched to the center of the room where there was some open space. Levi stood up and joined you.

“This is bad,” Jean muttered behind you. “She’s going to get hurt.”

“Nah, I’m betting on y/n,” Conny beamed. Jean rolled his eyes. Everyone else in the room was fixated on the two of you.

“Hand-to-hand combat only,” Levi instructed. “First one to beg for mercy loses.”

“Fine by me.” Adrenaline was pumping through your body. You had never felt more angry and unstable. All of your pent-up frustration toward Levi was about to be unleashed, and you weren’t going to hold back.

You readied yourselves, getting into a fighting position. No one was telling you to go, so you decided to make the first move. You clenched your fist and punched outward, hoping to connect with his nose. Instead, he grabbed your fist and twisted your arm around. You let out a small cry but quickly reacted by punching his side with your other fist. He recoiled enough for you to escape his grip. You went back and forth like this for a few minutes; you honestly couldn’t tell how long you had been going for. You didn’t feel tired, but you definitely felt the bruises forming on your body.

Suddenly, you slipped up. When he lunged for you, you lost your balance. He pushed you to the ground, straddling you and pinning your arms above your head. He dug his nails into your wrists, squeezing so hard you thought they might pop right off. You felt a trickle of blood snake down your hand.

“Give up,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Never,” you growled. You had to find a way out of this, and fast. Otherwise, he would cut off the circulation to your hands. Think, y/n, THINK. Then, you saw it, your opening. 

“Sorry about this,” you muttered. You thrust your knee upward and collided with his crotch. His eyes widened, and he quietly yelped in pain. You took this opportunity to turn the tables. Flipping him onto his back, you pinned one of his arms above his head, pressed your knee into his legs, and wrapped your other hand around his throat. 

He used his free hand to swat at yours, desperately gasping for air. But his eyes weren’t afraid; they were angry, furious. You gripped his throat even harder, and he choked a bit.

“GIVE UP!” you screamed. He was still trying and failing to take a breath.

“Y/n! Stop! You’re killing him!” someone cried from somewhere behind you. But you couldn’t stop, not until you heard him say it.

“It’s over, Levi,” you hissed. “Give up.” Slowly, his eyes changed from anger to blankness. His face was turning purple. If he didn’t cry for mercy soon, he was going to die. You were going to kill him. You wanted to kill him. Your anger had overtaken you.

“You…win,” he breathed, his eyes daring to flicker closed. You held him there for a second longer, and then pulled your hand away from his throat and collapsed next to him. He keeled over onto his side, desperately trying to make up for the lack of air in his lungs. You both sat there for a minute, catching your breath. Every time you tried to move, every inch of your body ached. You glanced down at your wrists, which were covered in trickles of dried blood and dark purple rings from Levi’s grip. Your face stung from where his fists had collided, and your side was on fire from his kick. Adrenaline was amazing. A few minutes ago, you felt none of this pain, and now, everything was rushing at you all at once. 

Levi was lying on his back next to you; his breathing had slowed back to a normal pace. A quick glance showed you that you had done equal damage to him. 

“Happy?” he spat, sitting up with a groan and glaring into your eyes. You said nothing as you felt a pair of arms lift you from behind.

“Come on, idiot.” You recognized the voice as Jean’s. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You stood next to Jean with an arm wrapped around his shoulder, his arm around your waist. Every part of your body was screaming, trying to tell you to stop moving. But you forced yourself to walk with Jean to the infirmary. Jean gently set you down on the edge of a bed. He went to a chest and grabbed some bandages and a cloth, which he wet at the sink.

“Well that was ridiculous,” he said as he sat in front of you and cleaned the dried blood off your wrists. You winced a few times but tried to stay still. “You almost killed him. The Captain!” Jean shook his head and began to wrap your wrists in white gauze. 

“I’m a squad leader too, remember? Besides, I wasn’t going to kill him,” you stated.

“You could’ve fooled me,” he protested. “What were you trying to prove, anyway? Everyone already knows you’re strong. You both are. Why did you have to go and destroy your body just to prove it?”

“It’s complicated, Jean,” you sighed.

“Whatever. None of my business.” He finished wrapping you up and reached up to touch a cut on your face. You flinched at his touch, even though it was gentle, friendly.

“Thanks,” you muttered, hanging your head, eyes fixed on your boots, which also had drops of blood on them. A wave of exhaustion washed over you, and you suddenly found it impossible to keep your eyes open or to support your own body. You slumped over and nearly fell to the floor, but Jean caught you.

“Okay, time to get you to bed.” He swung your legs over the bed and placed your head on the pillow. Your eyes were barely slits now, but you felt a blanket cover you. Before he left, Jean had one more thing to say.

“If you’re in love with him, beating the shit out of him isn’t the way to tell him,” he said under his breath. As he walked out the door, you closed your eyes and slept for a long time.

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[a few weeks later]

“Look, I know you don’t like me or whatever, but we’re supposed to work together as leaders. You at least have to try to tolerate me, okay?” You crossed your arms across your chest and narrowed your eyes at Captain Levi. The scouts had just finished going over the plan for the upcoming expedition outside the wall. Levi kept giving you dirty looks throughout the entire meeting which certainly hadn’t boosted your mood.

“Sure, whatever.” He rolled his eyes in discontent. 

“You know what, I have something to say to you,” you scoffed.

“Well go on, don’t keep me waiting,” he spat.

“You’re such a hypocrite, out here with your stone-cold eyes and jaded expression like you don’t give a shit about anything. Well, I don’t buy it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He jerked his head to move some hair from his eye.

“You’re human, just like everyone else. You have emotions, too. Somewhere in that cold, dead heart of yours is a real human being with real feelings. I don’t buy this bullshit front you put on.”

“You shouldn’t speak of things you know nothing about,” he declared, taking a few steps closer to you. “Besides, what are you gonna do about it? Pry the feelings out of me in a therapy session?” He was trying to intimidate you, but you weren’t about to back down.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?!” you cried. “Why can’t you just admit that you’re a little fucked up?” He took a few more steps toward you, closing the distance so that you were only about a foot away from each other, your back against the wall.

“Unlike some people, I don’t feel the need to put my personal life on display,” he criticized.

“Can’t you just care about something for once?!” You uncrossed your arms and clutched your hands into fists at your side, shaking with anger and frustration.

“I do care about something!” he cried.

“Oh yeah, what is it then?” you challenged.

“You!” he blurted out, slamming his fists into the wall on either side of your head. His face was inches from yours. Your eyes widened and your heart raced. 

In a split second, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. It didn’t last long, but in those few seconds, you felt something that was even more intense than your anger. When he pulled away, you grabbed his shirt and yanked him back in. This time, his lips were warm and softer. There was an unexpected gentleness to him. He cupped his hands around your face and pulled you in closer, bodies pressed together and lips not daring to separate for fear of losing this moment. He radiated heat, and you felt your face turning a deep shade of red.

Finally, you unlocked lips, but neither of you backed away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that.” You furrowed your brow.

“Why?” you asked, hand still resting on his chest, his hands still holding your head. He was an inch or two shorter than you, so you were just about eye-to-eye.

“I shouldn’t…I’m not supposed to—”

“To what?” you interrupted. “Feel something?” He lowered his hands and backed away from you, but you stepped forward. “I’ll tell you something, then.” His eyes met yours again.

“I think you have this innate ability to shut out any good feeling that creeps into your mind. Any positive emotion, you push it aside and only allow for cold, calculated decisions. But right here, right now, I see you. I see exactly who you are. You can’t hide anymore. You can’t run away from your feelings forever, Levi.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” he replied. “What if I can just keep running?” 

You sighed. “Then you’re never going to understand what it means to give your heart for something, like Erwin says.”

“But the more you give, the more you have to lose.”

“But having something to lose is what drives us, what keeps us fighting.” 

His eyes were soft and sad, and his usual straight-line mouth was slightly downturned. You could tell he didn’t have anything to say in response, so you reached out and pulled him into a hug. He seemed surprised at first, but after a few seconds, he wrapped his arms around you and sunk his head onto your shoulder. 

It was strange to see him in this state. Levi was always someone you saw as indestructible, even in the peak of your hatred toward him. No matter how desperate a situation became, he always found a way out of it. He was unstoppable on the battlefield. But as it turns out, off the battlefield, he was just as lost and broken as everyone else.

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[bonus Levi pov monologue!]

What the hell was I thinking? A kiss? Why had I done that?

Of course, I knew exactly why I had kissed her.

She infuriated me. So much so that I found it difficult to be around her most of the time. But that wasn’t the only reason I avoided her presence.

Y/n was magnetic. The way she walked with such dignity; the way she spoke with such gentle confidence; the way she trained harder, longer, more intensely than anyone else, not because she wanted to be the best, but because she wanted to be able to protect everyone; her bright green eyes, soft skin, silky dark brown hair: all of these things made it nearly impossible to stay away from her. She was a red-hot fire, and even though I knew I would get burned if I got too close, I couldn’t help myself.

I wasn’t myself when I was around her. No, maybe I was more myself than ever, but I was so used to putting on a front that I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. She made my stomach turn, my head spin, and my heart beat faster. Her smile made me weak in the knees, especially when it was directed at me. Any bit of attention she gave me, I clung to like a moth to a flame. 

I wanted to trust her, but I didn’t want to. It’s so hard to trust anyone anymore. I had lost too many because I had gotten too close to them; I trusted them, and they let me down. They always die, in the end. Then it’s just me, alone.

When she forced me to reveal my feelings, it was like my body had overtaken my brain. I reacted without even thinking. But she reacted in a way I hadn’t expected. The second kiss was…intoxicating. It was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. I wanted more, but I didn’t want the pain that always accompanied closeness.

So, now what? Where did we go from here? She was right; I couldn’t run away from this. The way I felt around her wasn’t likely to disappear. But if I let her in, if I let her see all of me, she would be in danger. Well, more than usual, anyway. 

No, I had to keep my distance, at least for a little while. There were too many other important things to focus on at the moment, like the upcoming expedition beyond the walls. Out there, I’d have to do everything in my power to keep her safe, even if it meant disobeying orders. The real question was if it came down to it, would I sacrifice the lives of my comrades to keep her safe?

[comfreyhollywings]

𝖕𝖆𝖈 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 - 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 𝖈𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖉𝖔 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖓𝖔𝖜?

𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒓 - 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒃𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒊 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒂. 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔. 

𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐, 𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑶𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑷𝒀. 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑, 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑.

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨.

pile 1 - king of wands rx, 3 of wands, 2 of wands rx, 5 of swords, the magician rx, 7 of cups rx, judgment, knight of wands rx  (back of the deck: 2 of swords) 

keywords: “weird flex but ok,” chill-pill, exercise, major fire placement (aries, leo, saggitarius), virgo, workaholicism (?), hitting someone with a baseball bat, small and snarky gremlin imagery, i s2g some of y’all bakugou kinnies,,, 

💥 first of all, i got a lot of fire energy radiating off of this pile. king of wands reversed was the first to come out of this deck, and i think this may have to do with either,,, acting really overbearing/borderline tyrannic to some in your relationships and/or being overtly passive over your career/jobs in general. 

💥  i’m getting the gist that most of you guys who chose this pile are in jobs already.  

💥 idk if this is important but… during the reading, i’m getting cold hands and feet reading this pile. i think this might have to do with poor blood circulation for some of you? i feel like this might affect your job… there’s also a bit of ‘anxiety’ that causes you to,,, freeze up in general? 

💥 you guys are expanding quite well, but you guys having this feeling - a sense that something MIGHT be tricking you. i think you guys have this feeling of “shit, is someone/something actually manipulating me? am i out of touch?” fueled/manifesting into your indecisiveness. maybe it also manifests in ways where you’re somewhat sneaky with your ambitions? it can manifest into fighting, rivalries, and ‘imaginary enemies’ from you guys acting out from this anxiety. 

  💥 you guys, again, are somewhat at a stalemate with yourselves from it. and it makes sense given that you guys are actually sort of stifled at the moment? like, you know that there’s something wrong when you self-reflect on it a little bit more (i.e judgment card), not to be mistaken with the feeling of anxiety. it’s just an acknowledgment that maybe this isn’t something you truly want to do.  there’s a lack of purpose that im seeing with the 7 of cups - or alternatively, you may be given too many options to the point where it’s overwhelming you. 

💥 i have a feeling that you guys are actually valuing stability over things that truly make you happy. there’s a heaviness that comes with it because you’re ‘sure’ that you want the job you’re in at first glance, but then.. over time.. you guys slowly become unsure if this is what you want. 

💥 you guys are waking up to this call that something is wrong. you’re realizing it.. but you guys fear taking action. you guys fear change and there’s a lack of taking action within exploring more to broaden your horizons. i think it has to do with clutching onto this idea that this job is who you are? it’s what you’re most familiar with and you want to to play it safe

💥 but at the same time, i actually think you guys dream of exploring your options, exploring your freedom and who you are apart from this job. but it can… be misplaced. you guys literally,, might manifest this into impulsiveness, recklessness… again - tyrannical behavior from shoving other people’s needs into the rug by claiming “this is who i am, take it or leave it” or thinking that  “if i won’t get this done, who will?” 

💥 while that’s GOOD to be ambitious and to have foresight, you guys,,, literally need to chill tf down. calm down. 

💥 it’s okay to not have things figured out. let yourself explore your options, go through it one by one. don’t be a machine gun and fire off at things that you know that you’re not ready for yet.

💥 the most important thing about all of this is to make an active choice in allowing yourself to explore your options. remember that nothing is truly fixed. allow yourself to listen to your inner voice more about what is truly suitable for you. 

💥 let go of the idea of control, okay? trust in the universe and those around you to take care of you. it’s easier said than done, but remember that it’s okay to have doubts from time to time. what you need to do is to ground yourself, take a couple deep breaths, and act directly against this mindset of ‘me against them’.

💥 contrary to what you think, there are people on your side that wants you to explore too. trust them and just,,, literally relax. 

💥  allow yourself to dream big, ok pile 1? allow yourself to explore your creative projects and like,,, chill. get the excess energy out by exercising and or taking walks. move your body, do what you need to do. 

»»————-　➴　————-««

pile 2 - 10 of pentacles rx, the chariot rx, 7 of wands, 6 of pentacles, 4 of swords, 4 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles, queen of cups rx, and the devil rx 

keywords: taurus in your big 3 (or 6), 4, 44, 6 in numerology, capricorn placements, "giVE me YOur mONEY", the miss kesha meme, living bougie (?), gucci items, giving away very expensive heirlooms, and a focus on the materialistic. 

👑 hello my earth pile, this one goes out for y'all. 

👑 fun fact: my electricity went out in the middle of me writing this and i feel like it has a lot to do with your current situation right now? some of y'all may be struggling with your electric bills, may be focused on reserving electricity, etc. there's a lack of resources and incomplete heritage that you guys have an issue with. i think you guys may come from a household that financially struggles with things. or maybe you guys are financially struggling rn? probably college students trying to survive from pay check to pay check. 

👑 uhhh if im being honest with you guys, i think you guys have a lack of control regarding your financial situations. like you want to go one way, but there's another telling you to go on another way and it's like a tug of war. it kinda feels like you're at the driver's seat, and there's another trying to backseat drive you like 'no you need to go THIS way'. or maybe you're at the backseat and you're watching your parents fight over some shit that's happening regarding your financial things? 

👑 and it's sort of fucking with your emotions because from what im seeing with queen of cups reversed, i think y'all are repressing your emotions and being cold so you don't have to deal with their aftermath. 

👑 you guys are currently focused in reserving and resting on your energies and resources because im getting the sense that you guys are somewhat drained and tired of the constant shit you've been enduring? Spirit commends you for standing firm and standing your ground against the things that are on your priorities. but with this came with a fight. bc of with this devil rx, i think some of you broke away from addictions or toxic households/environments? 

👑 basically you guys fought your way to reserve, defend, and rest with your current energy. 

👑 but now, as the situation progresses, i think you guys are slowly learning to adapt to what's been given to you?

👑 ironically, in a sense, i think you guys have always dreamed about charity? like, you guys are actually very generous. you have big hearts, but that MIGHT have led you to become chained and dragged around. in spite of that, it's never really stopped that dream of wanting to give to others.

👑 you guys are learning how to balance between reserving and giving to other people in a healthy manner. and good for you man, you guys are well on your way. 

👑 this is an affirmation that Spirit sees where you are and they know that you're trying your best in your current circumstances. but know that it's okay to feel again. it's okay to open your emotions despite how it may had led you to some undesirable circumstances. 

👑 you want to give to others, but how can you give to others if you don't allow yourself to receive, yk? overextending yourself leads to a lot of burn out if you don't allow yourself to receive the same love and care that you've been giving to everybody. which.. again.. leads to stinginess and a lot of defensiveness.

👑  i think you guys know that already, given that you're adapting and changing your priorities. you're essentially making the first step to make your dream come true by giving to others and starting very humanitarian work to the needy. 

👑 continue on your way, pile 2. keep hoping. you've done well in taking those little steps while you've been restoring and resting whilst standing your ground. 

👑 beware of being overtly stingy. let go of what you have and accept that there may be some sacrifices that you will have to make when you give to others. stand your ground if you need to, but remember to balance it out if you want to give to others. whether it's adapting to people's needs or continually checking in with your needs and what you have aka allowing yourself to receive the same generosity. 

👑 because the Universe will remember how much you've given, you'll thrive based on this giving quality with this work that you guys have always dreamed of being. just keep taking those small steps to open yourself up into receiving emotionally to others, and you'll find that it'll be so much easier to give out resources that you do actually have. 

»»————-　➴　————-««

pile 3 -  death rx, judgment, the devil rx, 4 of swords rx, the empress rx, 2 of cups, 5 of swords, ace of pentacles rx, 8 of cups 

keywords: set me free, people, seesaw (all three songs from agust d/SUGA of BTS), the “bruh” sound effect, done with people’s bullshit, “bye bitch”, head in hands while thinking ‘what could possibly go wrong’, speak by jhene aiko, take yourself home by troye sivan, the tea, frankly being unbothered on the outside and crying internally in the inside, 222, cold by boy in space x unheard

💨 a disclaimer,, there’s a heaviness that i feel in my chest, and i actually felt my eyes watering up from reading this.  

💨 you have four major arcana pulled out here, three of them representing a need to let go. and i think this has to do with a relationship.

💨 basically.. this is some very heavy heartbreak sh*t regarding a situation with your partner. for most of you guys reading this, you represent the feminine energy in this pile ( the empress rx) but this feminine energy is sort of….. corrupted in a sense that you guys are hovering over your partner. you’re acting more of the mother than the actual partner that you’re in a relationship with. 

💨 i think… you guys have a dream of letting things go - to let things die in your past. you desire it a lot, but you have this fear of letting go. like, you’re in a deep attachment to this person that you’re in union with but you know that they’re unhealthy for you. whether it’s you or this person, there’s an element of sneakiness and unbridled ambition to keep holding on to what you know. you’re blinding yourself  (or this person is blinding you) to keep this relationship going. 

💨 but i think that failed miserably. it actually served as a wake up call in order to see what’s going on in between the both of you. 

💨 you’re seeking freedom and a restoration of control. and it makes sense ! ! !

💨  there’s (or there was)  this theme of revolving your life around that one specific person. however, not only are you fearing what would happen if you let go, you’re restless and/or burnt out by the amount of exertion this event has put you through. it’s drained a lot of your resources and made you lose so much opportunities within your career.

💨 you guys… actually dream of walking away from this relationship. like you KNOW that there’s something wrong, and you KNOW this relationship hadn’t brought you towards anything good. there was this sense of imbalance that’s leading you to want to let go out of disappointment. 

💨 look, here’s the hard pill that you guys might need to swallow: you guys need to validate that need to let go. to walk away. it’s already clear that you’re burnt out, restless, and/or stressed about this person, and it’s doing you no good. you’ve invested so much within this situation that you’re in, but it’s.. it hasn’t led you to anything good to come out of it. 

💨 your answer, right now, with this current dream you have - it’s more than likely that you need to walk away from this situation. 

💨 i swear, all of you guys in this pile have this common theme where you need to let go of control. just let go and trust that the Universe will do the rest. 

💨 focus on restoring your energy first, and then walk away from this situation. literally give yourself a break because the relationship dynamics between you and this person is imbalanced within give and take. it’s not healthy anymore to keep going on like this. 

💨 whatever relationships that’s meant to stay in your life will stay. but the moment this person wants to leave, let them leave. it’s not worth your energy, your time, and your resources to force them into staying with you any longer. alternatively, you may need to let go and leave first if this person refuses to make you priority (or pull their own weight).  

💨 pile 3, if you’re feeling done with this whole situation — trust me. you’re not the only one who feels this way. i’m feeling really done with the situation you’re stuck into as well. but yeah.. it’s honestly,, not worth your resources anymore. let go and move on.

»»————-　➴　————-««

pile 4 - knight of wands rx, 9 of wands rx, strength rx, 4 of wands, 7 of cups, the wheel, 2 of swords, the high priestess in reversed (back of the deck: 3 of cups rx) 

keywords: “aaaAAAAAAAAA—”, major virgo placements in your big three, virgo tendencies by keke palmer, being so sure until you’re not, “it’s okay to not have a dream. you can just be happy”, 333, clumped up mascara from being in a hurry to put it on, vibrating from caffeine and energy drinks, “gotta go gotta hurry wham blam snickity slam” 

🏹 pile 4, i’m gonna say it now - y’all literally psyching yourselves out. 

🏹 this might have to do with acting impulsively because you’re searching for purpose. i have the feeling you guys probably bounce around jobs alot for feel of finding this “one select purpose” because you “know that it will be the one” and you guys… fantasize over this from time to time. like, you guys fantasize over it so much that you may actually have trouble applying it from time to time. 

🏹 the funny (or not so funny) thing about this is that you’re questioning your motives a lot. this has to do with a cycle that the universe is putting you guys through atm. like, you may feel like the universe is throwing you for a loop because you don’t exactly KNOW what you should dream about. in reality, i think this cycle the universe is putting you through is not it being angry at you, it’s saying to “stop and look at how far you’ve come”.

🏹 like.. you’re being forced to be at a stand-still to acknowledge your efforts. 

🏹 again. you are. literally psyching yourselves out. because you’re insecure about your efforts and what dreams you should have, HOW you should dream, WHAT you should dream, WHY you should dream - all these technical details are making you self-doubt your abilities to put what you have in mind into fruition. 

🏹 thus, you’re at a stalemate with yourself. 

🏹 i honestly think what you guys seek the most is community and a ‘welcoming’ atmosphere, sort of like.. family.. but you’re also hijacking yourself because you’re ignoring your intuition about that? and this might have to do with mistaking your anxiety and restlessness to bounce around from job to job so much, you may not be able to find this community if you don’t STAY, yk?  

🏹 alternatively, you might be embarrassed about those needs and you want to push this down for the sake of something that’s “more ambitious” because of former hurts. there’s an element where you guys may have suffered from gossip. maybe there’s a lack of balance where you’ve been forced to bounce around jobs and work a lot more, that you haven’t slowed down to consider that you’re probably isolating yourself along the way. 

🏹 the big thing here is that you’re honestly psyching yourselves out way more than needed. you’re anxiety is making you go through way much more than you need to when… you literally just need to chill and let things flow. 

🏹 there’s a time to pursue, and a time to stay and allow things to grow. 

🏹 patience is key to all of it. like.. again, as i’ve said with my other pile, it’s okay to not have everything figured out. know that in time, you’ll get there. 

🏹 focus on staying first. focus on trying to build yourself that community through shared interests. stop trying to isolate yourself through this work and allow yourself to Actually Socialize™ with others. 

🏹 you feel anxious about it, and that’s okay. everybody gets anxious when they try to pursue their dreams genuinely. the thing about you is that you’re trying to fit in this huge ass elephant into a tiny blender, and you keep shoving this fucking elephant down hoping that the blender will do that. 

🏹 if you’re confused by this analogy — the takeaway is to stop trying to perceive everything at once at big picture. go through it one step at a time and acknowledge your efforts. the most important thing you must do is to make a choice, and to be sure about them one step at a time.

🏹 basically… give yourself a break pls. take things slow. stay for the people that you want to build a community with. you’ve already come so far, pile 4.

[thepaperpanda]

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part II

♥Part I♥

Summary: You’re the Earl of little settlement deep inside the forests of Norway. After Ragnar Lothbrok’s death you and your warriors travel to England to support Ragnar’s sons in the battle against Christians. Shortly after a victory, you and Ivar turned out to be a dangerously perfect match?

Warnings: explicit content - smut

Words: 8846

Authors: Cass & Rouge

It's not that you all expected plain sailing, or for winds to be kind, the waves to be gentle; it's that you trusted your ships to carry yourselves to shore no matter the weather. It was a confidence born of faith, of feeling to your bones that with such tenacity you could achieve anything at all. They said it's only impossible until it's done, that was your motto under all skies, upon all seas.

Thankfully, Gods fostered your attempts of getting back to Norway - despite the storms and heavy rain, all the longships made it back to the homeland.

A smile spread across your lips, it was good to be back home.

Dressed in your usual attire with addition of a new warm cloak gifted by Ivar, you stood at the front of your ship. Holding the ropes tightly you turned to your troops. "We made it, friends! Gods blessed us and allowed us to return home so we can fight yet another day!,” You yelled and your people's voices reared loudly.

Ivar kept his eyes fixed on you since the moment you left England. He wasn't truly happy with you sailing among your warriors but it's your decision, with which he couldn't argue. They needed their Earl after all. He rolled head back to rest it against the wooden edge of the boat.

"Land sighted, master!," One of his men shouted.

"Drop the canvas," Ivar ordered as he propped head on the edge of the boat to admire the beautifulness of the shoreline.

Of course, his glance also moved to look at you. Oh, how he missed your body next to his.

Hvitserk's tone pulled him out of thoughtfulness. "Are you sure it's a good idea? Harald Finehair isn't a person you can fully trust."

"I trust no one," Ivar snapped back. "I have the last say."

You walked among your people, gently touching the shoulders of your warriors. It was a simple gesture, a little bit of a comfort and small thanks for their loyalty.

For now this was all you could do, to show your gratitude toward them all.

The ship moored in Harald's docks. You heard a lot about him and his ambitions, and honestly you expected much more from his settlement.

After jumping off of your ship you let out a sigh of relief. Solid ground under your feet. "I hope you didn't miss me too much, Ivar?," You asked him with a cocky smile which was partially hidden by your mask. Since it was damaged in the battle you didn't bother to fix it or make a new you. It was enough your scars weren't fully visible.

Ivar's blue eyes glistened in the rays of the setting sun, and his long lashes casted a little shadow on his clearly defined cheeks. "You need to answer this question to yourself, dear Earl."

After these words he passed you, offering you a mischievous grin as he did.

Hvitserk, who jumped out of the boat on the pier, gave you a long glance, his brows cocked. "Why are you questioning such an obvious thing?"

The red line on his nose reminded you about your last true interaction back in York. "It's called teasing, Hvitserk. Men love it. It's time to learn it."

Humming, you quickly boarded the ship that brothers traveled in. You crouched in front of the bishop and gently caressed his cheek to see if he even survived the long trip.

Man instantly reacted to your touch; he winced and spat right into your face. "Get off me, heathen whore."

You flinched and growled, wiping the spit of your face. Getting up to your feet, you pointed at one of your men. "Bring me one of my furs." Once the fur was in your hands, you wrapped it around the man that just insulted you. "Since Ivar has big predictions when it comes to you. The last thing we want is you getting ill."

Bishop was glaring up at you, not being sure whether you were mocking him or not. Your behavior was completely out of anything he could have expected. Deep inside Heahmund appreciated the fur being wrapped around his shoulders as he was cold.

"Now. You should be all warm," you muttered, tucking the fur in all the right places to shield him completely from the bitter cold. "Now, you can say that a heathen whore helped you." After those words you simply walked away to join Ivar and Hvitserk.

Two men tugged on the ropes wrapped tightly around his neck and wrists, pulling bishop behind them. He hated his position, but it was still better than death from pagans hands.

Harald groaned annoyed, getting comfortable in his throne. Last thing he expected or really needed was Ragnarssons visiting him. He already knew that young Ivar meant troubles. King watched them walk inside the great hall.

Hvitserk was the first one in, taking a comfortable for him spot on one of the tables, while Ivar shuffled behind with his crutch.

To his surprise there was one more visitor; a young woman in a mask. Suddenly the visit became much more interesting. "Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok. Why did you not return to Kattegat? I can also see you brought an interesting guest," Harald said with his deep, hoarse voice, pointing his finger at you.

Ivar stopped at the podium and leaned his weight on his crutches. "She's my guest," he said, pointing his chin on you. "You know we couldn't return to Kattegat. That witch, Lagherta, is still a Queen. Me and my brother are looking for alliances that could let us overtake the throne. The throne that belongs to us."

Harald raised from his throne and walked closer to the guests, nodding his head. "Ah, yes. As I can see your need for revenge on Lagertha is burning with a flame that will never go out." King smiled and took your hands into his much bigger and warmer palms. "I know the sons of Ragnar but I have never seen you with any of them. Who are you?"

"My people call me Earl Wolf but my name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet the future king of whole Norway," you said with your voice sweet as honey.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," Harald said before placing a kiss to your palm.

Ivar kept his face straight but the fact you let Harald touch you pierced his heart like a cold needle. "Can we get to the planning? I am not going to spend another hour waiting for you two to exchange pleasantries," young man growled.

Hvitserk, who observed the entire situation while standing in the back of the chamber, snorted quietly. He would never think his brother fell in love so easily.

"Ivar. You brought a beautiful woman in and don't even let me take all of her beauty in," king rolled his eyes.

"As a lady, you flatter me but as the Earl I need to agree. We came here in important matters," you said. "social talks can wait until much calmer times. I can promise you we will have a moment for ourselves."

Listening to you, Harald smiled softly and nodded. "Beautiful and smart. Let's get to planning then. Ivar, I am listening. What do you expect?"

Ivar turned head to throw you a cold glance; did you just plan to spend some time with Harald? Did you really say it aloud in his presence?

"Let's get somewhere where not many curious eyes are on us."

Hvitserk, seeing how his brother and rest are moving to another chamber, followed them.

Oh, Ivar was mad. This is exactly what you wanted, your plan was to rile him up and to see if something interesting will happen. You followed them to be present during the planning.

Talks were long and boring.

Ivar and Harald were arguing for a long time and it wasn't about troops anymore.

The youngest Ragnarson wanted to be the king of the Kattegat after chasing Lagertha, Bjørn and Ubbe away.

At the same time Harald wanted to carry on his great dream of ruling whole Norway.

Thankfully, in the end, they somehow found a way to agree on something.

"You will be a king but when you die the title is passed on me," Harald said, rubbing his forehead.

You let out a little yawn and rubbed your eyes tired. Travel and long boring planning took a toll on you.

Hvitserk didn't say anything during talks; instead, he ate at least four apples and was playing with his little dagger which he used to cut the fruits. It wasn't his thing, all the great planning. All he wanted to do was to return back to Kattegat which was his true home. He didn't really want to stand against Bjørn or Ubbe, but did he have other choice? The decision was made the day he got out of the ship to join his youngest brother.

Ivar put his chalice on the table, nodding briefly at Harald's words. "Sounds like we have it. Just don't be surprised if I'll rule for many long years." The Boneless got up from the chair he sat at and using his crutches, he slowly walked off.

"My men will take care of that Christian prisoner of yours, Ivar," Harald said. "Whatever his point is. If I were you I would just kill him."

You let a soft sigh and decided to join Hvitserk, silently asking him for a piece of an apple.

"But you're not me," Ivar smirked widely at Harald and left.

Hvitserk was highly surprised by your request, but of course, as he had a good soul, he shared one huge apple with you, cutting it in half so it would be easier for you to eat. "You're welcome," he muttered slightly.

"Thank you, Hvitserk. You are a kind soul," you gave him a sweet smile and looked at Harald. "My king? May I know where I can find our prisoner?”

When you received the seeked answer, you bowed your head and walked off.

Bishop was held in a barn, tied to a metal pole in the middle which provided the stability to the roof and construction itself.

His hands were weak as he was forced to hold them above his head for the entire time. The blood circulation faltered and he barely could feel his fingers anymore. Yet, bishop Heahmund was praying quietly. Man was saturated with the intelligent energy of countless prayers - as such being able to carry out supernatural acts. "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae; et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum...," He was whispering all the time.

You stopped in the door and watched him, praying, it was quite an interesting sight.

"Those have to be a made up babble. No one speaks like this," saying this, you stepped inside and smiled seeing your fur on him, so you dared to point it out. "They let you keep it."

"What do you want, heathen?," He asked weakly. "If you came to kill me, I'll gladly accept my faith. I'm ready, in my God.

As if nothing ever happened, you simply placed yourself on his laps. "You know... I am just a heathen to you but I do have a real name. Maybe I should call you Christian from now on? What do you say, Heahmund?” You presented him the piece of an apple you got from Hvitserk and smiled innocently. "I also brought you this."

"Get off me, woman," he tried to kick you off, but your hips pressed to his side's strongly, holding him motionless. "I don't need your mercy!"

"It's not a mercy. It's called help, you Christian don't know what it is?," You asked with a smile, purposely pressing your hand into him. "Come on, I am sure you are hungry."

He indeed was hungry. Heahmund parted his lips, waiting for you to slip a slice of apple into his mouth.

"Good boy. See? I am not so bad," you chuckled and slipped the slice into his mouth. "I'll get you more if you will want."

He chewed viciously, gagging himself with a not fully chewed piece of the fruit. Truth was he was starving for the last few days and he would give everything for a piece of bread.

"Slow down, we are not going to starve you. I'll make sure of this," you said quietly, touching his shoulder.

He almost gasped as the skin under his clothes were bruised and swollen.

"Right, they got you bad during that battle. Maybe I should undress you and take care of these injuries?," You asked in a hushed voice. "I am sure you would feel much better. You need to be in good shape since Ivar has great plans for you."

Bishop's eyes fixed on your face. He hated your touch on his body but you didn't try to kill him.

Looking him in the eyes your hand started to unbutton the upper part of his armor, not breaking the eye contact for even one second.

Little did you know a pair of incredibly blue eyes were watching your every move. Ivar leant his forehead against the wooden wall of the barn, clenching teeth and rolling palm in a fist. He offered you everything, yet you were still chasing the fucking, useless priest. What man had that he didn't? He felt a strange thing, a twinge of envy.

Slowly you pulled away the armor and hissed, seeing his injury. "Oh, you poor thing, just look at what they did to you." You hand gently touched his skin, making sure to not press the blue and purple spots.

You could hear noises outside the building.

Bishop's eyes widened as he looked past you.

Three warriors, every of them armed in axes walked out of the darkness of the room. "Earl Wolf, you're going with us. Now."

You glared over your shoulder with bored and annoyed look

"What do you want, huh? I am busy, who is even summoning me in such a terrible moment?," You almost growled.

"Now," one of the men repeated and showed the exit with his ax.

Rolling your eyes you let out a loud sigh. "Maybe we will return to that. Only Gods know."

You adjusted Bishop's clothes as much as you could before getting up from his knees. Turning to the warrior you shrugged. "Lead the way," you said and followed them.

They walked in a silence through empty paths of settlement, eventually stopping in front of a little hut almost at the edge of it.

One of them pointed at the door and they turned with their backs to the building.

There was not much you could do but follow this game but honestly you were also really excited to see what is hidden behind the door. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The hut seemed empty and the only source of light inside were candles standing on the shelves around the chamber and hanging in the metal candle holders attached to the ceiling.

The sweet scent of mead filled the room, and you could spot a chalice full of alcohol placed at the table.

On the right side of the hut there stood a bed with many furs on top of it; it looked inviting. In the end the place was cozy and warm. Next to the chalice you found a piece of paper with one word written on it: UNDRESS.

You walked around the place. It was interesting, who set it up? There were two possible options. Harald who looked really interested in you or Ivar wanted to return the favor from York. That could be fun. Taking the chalice you sat down on the bed.

After drinking a few little sips of the really tasty mead you started to undress.

This actually felt good, as much as you loved your clothes the thick leather was annoying after too many hours in it. Naked, you laid down on the bed and waited.

Suddenly, the candles standing closest to the bed faded away. Then, the candles at the table, and the last to fade were the ones in candle holders.

You sat up and frowned. "Great," muttering, you lied back down, you weren't going to light those candles again.

And then, out of sudden, you could feel a soft touch on your ankle, followed by a hum. Your body's first idea was to react and protect yourself by kicking whoever tried to sneak on you but somehow you stopped yourself. The muscles only twitched a little. Giggling you shook your head. "Ivar, love. Don't do this, I do not want to hurt you."

"Prescient, aren't you?," His voice husky as he crawled fully out of the shadows. His hand placed against your leg and moved up , to rest on your knee as he brushed his full lips against your calf.

You let out a short laugh and hummed. "No other man would do such a thing for me. I am more than sure it was you. Besides, I recognized your hand, love."

Oh, if you could only see the grimace on his face. He continued to brush his lips against your soft, delicate skin until he reached your thighs. Only then he let go of your body and focused on getting on the bed, which was easy for him after all those years of crawling and supporting his upper body part on hands.

"But to send armed guards for me. That was... Interesting idea and the whole preparation for this? I feel like a real princess, you surprised me," you hummed and removed the mask that was still placed on your face. It won't be needed anyway.

He didn't reply, just slipped one of his hands between your thighs, forcing you gently to parted legs. His skilled fingers pressed to your pussy, where he rubbed little circles. "Was it wise to tease me with King Harald?"

"For this all? Of course it was," you said with a humor in your voice and opened your legs to give him as much access as he only needed. "I loved your face, this was my goal, sweetie."

"Was it?," He whispered as his fingers slipped lower to be gently shifted inside of your pussy. "Mmm, nice and wet."

"Yes it was. Everyone can fuck but build it up? It makes stuff more fun and pleasurable," you answered his question and let out a quiet sound. "Wet for my king."

He rolled to his side and to his belly in the end, diving right between your legs. He trailed the tip of his tongue up and down your clit, offering you a few long licks, then Ivar wrapped his mouth fully around your pussy, sucking on it lightly.

You gasped and let out a quiet moan. He was learning fast, he was making you proud.

He let you put your legs on his strong shoulders as he continued to eat your pussy out, humming in appreciation of the taste you left on his tongue. Soon, his mouth was accompanied by two of his slender fingers, slipping rhythmically in and out of your slick cunt.

"You like it? Don't you? You love it after our first night," you said playfully. Your hand moved into his hair to keep him close the whole other hand traveled up your breasts to tease your nipples.

Ivar growled which sent a little vibrations to your slick pussy. He placed a kiss to it and spat on it to make you even wetter than before. His fingers in you were joined by his long, skilled tongue as he tried his best to lick your inner walls and suck in your sweet juices.

His action made you shiver and moan for him even louder. Biting your lips hard,  you nuzzled to the furs beneath your body, focusing on the pleasure he was giving you.

He fingered you until you cum hardly around his fingers. Ivar gave one last lick and sucked his fingers clean, murmuring. "Oh, sweet Y/N, you taste so fucking sweetly I could eat you all day and night long."

Ivar placed kisses to your tummy and licked his way up your body, catching one of your nipples between his teeth, as gently as possible.

The climax washed over you and you tried your best in calming down your breath.

You muttered at the feeling of his mouth and teeth around your sensitive flesh. "I would like to taste myself... Can I?”

Ivar continued with licking his way up your body and finally his lips crushed on yours, and he slipped his tongue past your lips so you could taste yourself.

You returned the kiss and moaned loudly at the sweet taste of your own juices. Dominating his kiss was no use, he was too much into it, both of your hands moved into his hair which to your own surprise were completely loose.

Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade was put to your neck. "I distinctly remember saying I don't like to be mocked," he whispered into your ear.

You gasped loudly and your lips parted. "Ivar... You could warn me that you want to add a knife to bed," swallowing heavily, you could feel the blade against your skin.

"If I would there would be no fun, sweetheart," Ivar kissed your cheek. "Did you enjoy yourself with him? Huh? Did you?," He asked and the blade was pressed more to your skin.

It hit you then. He probably saw you with the Bishop or someone told him. You laughed loudly. "Oh, so this got you going? It made you so angry you planned all of this? Just to pin me down with a knife to my neck?"

"Maybe," he whispered. "I just want to remind you that you're mine, I marked you as mine back in York, and nothing is going to change it."

Ivar hid the knife in his pocket and got off the bed.

You giggled and looked at him while biting your lips. Even if you already knew that Boneless was crazy enough to kill, it didn't frighten you at all. To be completely honest, this action brought a different reaction for you. "I know I am yours. I have never claimed the opposite. You are my lover, my future king," you voice was a soft pur that you knew he loved. Your inner thighs rubbed together in the seek of any friction.

He used his crutches to get to the table and sat on the chair. He refilled the chalice you drank from and downed it quickly.

His eyes glistened in the darkness in a dim moonlight falling onto the chamber through a little window. He was watching you. "Yet you still seemed to seek some adventures. Who is going to be next to be blessed with your body on top of them? Harald? Or maybe my sweet, crazy brother? Or maybe you'll fall for Bjørn?"

You hummed, pretending to think. Your teasing game continued. "King Harald would be a fine adventure, I can already imagine what he sounds like in bed; thanks to that voice of his. Ironside... I heard he is big as a bear, it could be a lot of fun to ride him. Hvitserk... Not really the type of a man I enjoy."

Ivar smirked to himself in the darkness. Oh, he was jealous already, that if you continue, he would simply bathe his dagger in your blood watching how the last ounces of life escape your flesh.

Suddenly, the door opened and a young thrall stepped in. Ivar didn't look at her yet gestured for her to come closer.

You sat up on the bed and watched them with your eyebrow raised.

As the girl brought another jug filled with taste mead, she put it carefully on the table and circled the chair Ivar sat on to gently place her palms on his shoulders. She started massaging him, earning a long moan from him.

"What's your name, sweetie?," Ivar asked, his tone low.

"Katia, my lord," she replied.

"How many springs have you lived?"

"17, my lord."

"The younger the better," Ivar turned his head to the young thrall and pulled her into a short kiss.

You watched them, completely taken aback by his action. Honestly, you felt proud of him in some way. Just a few weeks ago back at York he was all shy and unsure of himself, only to do this. Of course Ivar knew what he was doing because it worked. It worked too well.

The jealousy burned deep inside of you, he gave you a taste of your own action.

Ivar grabbed the woman by hand and pulled her into his lap.

Young thrall pulled her shirts up and straddled his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. "I never knew I'll be so close to Ivar the Boneless himself, my master."

"Because you won't be for much longer," you growled as you got up from the bed to move closer to them. Your hand moved into her hair and grabbed a handful, pulling her head away. "Listen to me now, child. If you won't get off him right now and leave, I will make sure to cut you in all of the right places to make sure now man will ever touch you."

That's what Ivar hoped for. "You heard the lady," he looked at the thrall but let himself cup one of her boobs briefly. "Leave now, but stay tuned for maybe you'll be needed to warm my alcove one day."

Young girl hissed but obeyed your words. She got off him and smoothened her dress, quickly leaving.

You chuckled watching her run off.

Humming softly you placed yourself on his lap, and immediately moved into his long, dark hair. "Look at that. Ivar the Boneless, a man who a few weeks ago was afraid to lie with a woman for the very first time. Now is making her envy. Don't you know such a woman can be unpredictable, boy?"

"Is that so sweet Y/N?," Your name rolled from his lips as he moved his head closer to your naked body, inhaling your scent as he brushed his lips against your collarbone, his hands in gloves stroked the curves of your waist.

You giggled and continued to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails. "Oh yes, just as unpredictable as men can be. I think we saw both today."

Your hands moved to his throat and your small palms wrapped around it, squeezing it a little. "I could strangle you now," you whispered as your grip got a bit stronger. "And I should do this, for a knife you pressed to my throat and that thrall but you are lucky enough that I love you."

He kept face straight, chucking darkly at your sudden outburst. "Oh, I think I need to play with thralls some more as it's keeping you going," he whispered and parted his lips, tracing the tip of his tongue along his perfectly shaped teeth.

"I need to visit our prisoner often too," you nodded with a smile. "I still wish to have him in my bed at least for once... As long as he is loyal to my man and his orders."

Ivar's hand moved to grab your hips strongly. "You're such a tease," he mumbled deeply.

You laughed and rolled your hips against him as your hands slipped to his shoulders. "But it gets you going. You love the idea of misbehaving. It makes you jealous and it leads you to anger," you leaned over to whisper against his lips. "And this, my love, leads you to your desire."

He couldn't pretend any longer; you kept him going. A short moan left his parted lips, and his eyes widened a little.

"Ah! There you go. You couldn't keep it up for too long, huh, Ivar?"

With a soft giggle you slipped off of his laps and placed yourself on the floor right between his legs. It was time to return the favor.

He looked down at you while letting a sad gasp out. His palm was placed to your cheek. "You're like no other woman I met in my short life. You make me lose my head, all for you."

You smiled at him sweetly, nuzzling to his palm. "Maybe because you didn't meet the right ones." Your hands moved down his chest and started to work on his pants so you could move them enough to free his member. "You are like no other men I met in my life. You are brave, ruthless and strong despite your flaws. Wonderful leader, lover and warrior."

He smiled. "Come to me, little one," he demanded in a husky voice.

You didn't like this exact order. All you wanted was to make him feel good but still you followed his order, placing yourself back on his laps. "Your wish is my command, my king."

He reached his hand down his body to guide his cock into your cunt. As he did, he let a loud moan and rolled head back, his hands slipped into your hips to hold you strongly.

A soft moan passed your own lips. Even when he worked you hard back in York, you still felt so fucking tight around him. "Fuck... Ivar," you gasped, grabbing the chair back.

He rested his forehead against your chest, letting out some deep gasps when you were slowly going up and down his shaft.

Your hands moved into his hair, scratching his scalp and keeping him as close to you as possible. Soon you started to move faster, moaning and pulling on his hair.

Ivar let out a long, deep grunt as you tugged on his hair. His hands moved down to rest on your ass as he squeezed the flesh hardly, moaning and brushing his lips against your chest.

When you realized he enjoys the hair pulling you let out a soft laugh and used it to pull his head back so you could kiss him deeply.

Ivar stole a kiss from your lips and parted his, gasping harder and harder as he chased his climax. Soon, he milked your pussy, grunting and groaning as he did.

You moaned his name out at the delightful feeling of his seed flooding your cunt. This triggered your own high and your walls tightened around him.

Ivar's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his forehead rested against your collarbone, he gasped, a few drops of sweat rolled down his neck and forehead.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, just to keep him as close as only possible. Humming quietly, you started to play with his hair. "I love your hair, you should be called finehair," you whispered and giggled at your own joke.

He didn't reply as he was buried deep in his thoughts and he was only about to get off his peak. "Yeah," he managed to mumble softly, nuzzling to you.

You chuckled and massaged his scalp, letting him relax and calm down right in your arms after such a strong climax. "You okay there, Ivar?"

He raised his chin and looked you up right in the eyes. "Yes. Go to bed, I'll join you soon but I have one more thing to deal with."

You frowned softly, cupping his cheek. "Like what?"

"I need to speak to my brother. Nothing much. You stay here and warm bed for me."

You kissed his cheek and nodded. Slowly, you remove yourself from him, growling at the feeling of emptiness. "As you wish, love."

The bed was soft and warm thanks to all the furs. You got comfortable and nuzzled to the pillow. "Don't leave me alone for too long or I will have to go and pay our prisoner another visit."

Ivar shifted his floppy cock back into his pants, and growled playfully at your words. "Don't you be worried about that, I won't be long."

He took his crutches and slowly got up from the chair, throwing you a cocky smirk before leaving. Ivar headed to another hut, located almost at the docs. We stepped in without knocking, just like he had it in the habit of his.

Girl that was currently kissing Hvitser jumped in her place and gasped before looking right at Ivar.

It was one of your shield maidens, the one that took most interest in older Ragnarsson back at York.

Hvitserk sighed deeply, seeing his brother. "Brother, as much as I love your company. This is not the best moment," he said and the girl nuzzled to him, hiding from Ivar's eyes.

Ivar offered the girl a brief nod. "Mmm, you're fast like a lightning, brother," Ivar claimed and shifted a chair for himself, placing it right next to the bed. His blue eyes shifted to the girl. "Be a good, little thrall and leave us for a moment."

"I... I am not a thrall. I am Earl Wolf's shield maiden," girl said.

"Go, Asta. Wait outside, we won't talk for long," Hvitser said, patting her shoulder.

Soon the girl was gone and Hvitserk looked at his brother annoyed. "So! What was so important that you decided to interrupt me right now?"

"Hold your horses, brother, you'll have her pussy soon," Ivar frowned as he moved his glance to make sure the girl closed the door. "Remember our last talk? The talk about relationships and things?"

"Yes, I do but I am still not sure if we really did have this time. You are asking for advice when it comes to relationships and bed... Could be just my drunk dream," Hvitserk muttered, crossing arms over his chest. "What about it, Ivar?"

Younger brother used his crutch to poke his brother's thigh. "Can you not be a dick for once in your lifetime?," Ivar asked, frowning hardly, he ran his other hand through his messy hair. "It worked. And I need to know more of those."

"Ivar. I am glad that it worked but I really don't know what else to tell you," Hvitserk said with a shrug. "Tell me about her."

"Like, listen to this, brother," Ivar was excited at the single thought about things he performed with you. "The things you advised me in your drunken state worked, what I mean is that after eating her out she was more eager for other things. Let's not pretend, you're not only older but many women came and went through your bed, so I hate to admit it, but you're more experienced than I am."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded, rubbing his chin with pride. "Well, of course I am. Just... I can tell she likes it rough. So just go with that, Ivar. Listen to her."

Ivar tilted his head like a puppy while listening to the owner. "How can you say such a thing when you haven't seen her?"

"Then why do you ask me what to do when I haven't seen her in action?," Hvitserk asked with a roll of his eyes. "Listen. Every woman is different, you just need to observe and follow your intent or heart if you are really in love... And have heart."

Ivar didn't comment on his brother's words, he only nodded and got up from his spot. He patted Hvitserk's cheek. "Thanks. You can be useful from time to time."

Asta watched Ivar left the hut and immediately went back inside to join Hvitserk.

Ivar took some time to enjoy himself in the cold air. He walked slowly back to the hut Harald had let him stay in. Door was open so he walked in.

You were already asleep, covered with furs.

Ivar took the sight in, smiling to himself, feeling like his heart was melting for the sweetness overload. He put the crutches on the floor quietly, he got undressed and crawled to the bed. As carefully as it was possible he got on and spooned you from behind.

The following week was filled with preparations for a great battle. Everything had to be just right.

The days were filled with planning and training with your people, making sure they all are ready for the upcoming battle.

Of course whenever you found time you liked to bother the Bishop who actually was free now and somehow agreed to fight on your sides of the conflict.

You screamed out Ivar's name as you both reached your climaxes. The remarkable feeling of his seed filling you because some kind of fixation for yours. You seeked it every night and he was happy and eager to satisfy your common needs.

Humming quietly you lay down on his chest and started to trace random patterns on his chest. "It's tomorrow. I can't wait to leave this place and set a camp... And get ready for the battle," You growled playfully.

Ivar's arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his fingertips rubbing little circles on your belly as he held you close. "Don't be scared, Y/N, the seer predicted we'll win the battle easily," Ivar assured you and kissed the top of your head. "There's no need to be worried, dear. It's just a formality."

You laughed and looked at him with a cocky smile. "Me? Scared? You're joking! I am more than ready to fight, our last battle in York was so much fun! I craved more since that day."

He looked down at you and pecked your lips briefly. "I would never say you're more bloodthirsty than I am."

You giggled against his lips before kissing that one sensitive spot on his neck. "Is that bad? Is some... Boring, dress wearing, royal lady would be better for you? You dont like me the way I am?”

He moaned at the touch of your lips on the most sensitive spot on his neck; his grasp on your waist tightened. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Let's get some sleep, love. We need to be rested for tomorrow." You kissed his cheek and then nuzzled to his chest, closing your eyes. Soon, you drifted into slumber.

Travel was exciting.

Everyone was ready for that great fight so were you.

To be honest you couldn't wait, fighting and then ruling by Ivar's was your dream ever since you two clicked just perfectly back in York.

In the camp as well as during negotiation with Lagherta and his brothers you stood there proudly, being by his side and supporting his action.

You fought for him just like you did in York, doing your best to tip the scales of victory on your side.

The battle was long and of course there was a lot of death and suffering.

Just like Ivar assured you that one night, you won. Kattegat was yours and you couldn't be more happy.

The Great Hall opened its door for the new king.

Ivar entered the familiar chambers for the first time since months. He felt like the very important part of his childhood was restored to normality.

People weren't truly keen on the change on the throne, but they could do nothing about it.

Ivar's royal warriors took care of those who didn't want to hail the king. Ivar took a place at the throne that once belonged to his father.

You laughed loudly walking in with Hvitserk and King Harald close behind you, all of you bathed in blood of your enemies.

"You did it Ivar, you won your home back. I need to say I am jealous now!” Harald joked.

You walked around, inspecting the inside of the Great Hall. You already loved the place.

"Of course he did. How could you doubt him."

Saying this you walked closer to your lover and sat on the throne right beside him.

Ivar offered you a smirk, yet tilted his head. "Y/N, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I am getting comfortable in my throne, love?," You answered, returning the smirk. "Just as we talked in York. We will be the most powerful couple in the world."

He rolled a little in his place, so he leaned his forearms against armrest. "We? A couple? We were never a couple, sweetheart. I just needed your troops."

You frowned deeply, looking into those beautiful blue eyes you so loved. "Excuse me... But. Your promises, the nights we spend together. Our plans for the future."

He laughed loudly, he didn't really pay attention to the fact there were people in the chamber. "Darling, I would never say you're so silly. You wanted to be fucked so I provided that to you. I just had to make sure you won't change your mind in the day before the battle. Now, get off the throne, it's not yours. You can go back to your sweet, lovely settlement. You're my vassal from now on, I expect you to pay 500 gold pieces every year. If you won't follow, I'll have to flatten your little place to the ground."

You got up from the throne, your eyes never leaving him. How could he do this to you? You shared so much from the past to the future. Did he really lie to you... Why it hurt more than the wounds you suffered during the battle. "Is this some kind of a cruel joke? Because if it is, then better stop, Ivar."

"Do I look like I am joking?," He asked, the smile vanishing from his face, leaving a cold grimace and raised eyebrow as he glanced at you. "Get out of my face."

You couldn't believe it. All the nights you shared, sweet words, the love and dreams... It all was his way of taming you. His way of making sure you will follow him until he achieves his goals. Your heart broke like a thin ice under a pressure. "You are a terrible man, Ivar the Boneless. Ragnar is ashamed of such a son. One that can't keep a promise and can't even avenge his mother fully. I will dance the day you die!” You didn't mean any of those words, it was the pain speaking through your lips. Just like he wanted, you turned around and left the Great Hall.

Hvitserk threw his brother had a cold glance and followed you. "Stop, Y/N! Earl, stop!"

Meantime Harald stormed to the freshly announced king. "What the hell are you doing, Ivar? She is a great warrior, she brought a lot of people, you can't simply send her away and push her off our common matter."

"Our? Mine. Nothing is ours, everything is mine now," Ivar chuckled darkly. "Go on, you can take her. She's nothing but a puppet."

You stopped and pulled out your sword, pointing it right at older Ragnarsson. Your face looked serious but the tears rising in your eyes were visible. "What do you want, Ragnarsson? Came to tell me how stupid I am for trusting your brother?” You growled loudly.

"I had no idea what he was planning for all that time," Hvitserk instinctively raised hand up in the air, showing you he was unarmed. "Don't leave, I bet it can't be discussed and explained."

"Discussed? Explained?! What can be, Hvitserk?! He used my love, my feelings for him to get the troops for his plans," You said, desperately trying to hold your tears. "I wanted to stay here for him but I won't be a rug he can use and throw away as soon as he is done."

"Stop it, you can't leave! You're the only person who still keeps him on the straight and narrow!"

"HOW I DO THAT?!," You yelled as loud as your lungs let you, slowly lowering your sword as your body became too weak suddenly. All the emotions you felt and the post battle injury mixed together now.

"He threw me away as soon as my help became useless for him. I was never needed, coming to York was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Come," not being sure whether it was proper to do, Hvitserk wrapped arms around your figure, offering you his shoulder to lean on. "Take me with you then," Hvitserk asked openly. "I don't want to stay by his side, he's not a sane person. Please. I'll do whatever you order."

You nuzzled to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. All you needed now was some kind of closeness, of course you wished it was Ivar but he didn't care any longer. You started to cry into his shoulder, pawing at his back in an attempt to grab something in your hand.

"Now, move," he reminded you. "Let's not wait for him to change his mind and order his hellhounds to burn us alive."

Oldest Ragnarsson led you to the stable where your horse ate hay. He helped you hop on the animal. You sighed deeply, getting comfortable in the saddle. Rubbing your eyes you looked at him. "Thankfully my men are ready to go too," You said, grabbing the reins. "Let's leave him with his wonderful kingdom. Harald can deal with him."

"I don't think he is going to stay either," Hvitserk pulled his horse out of the box and got on his stallion's back.

"I have no idea who would want to stay with him now. Kattegat will burn under his lead," You muttered as your horse moved.

You quickly collected your remaining troops and then you all were on the way home. "Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk, whose horse galloped right behind yours, lined up with you. "Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Leaving your own youngest and well... Creppled brother? For a woman who broke your nose?," You asked, looking at him.

"No," he replied hardly, being sure of his words. "I was afraid of my dear life. It was the most reasonable decision I've made in my lifetime."

"Let's hope you will feel much better in my home," you told him with a soft smile.

The trip took three day but it was worth it.

Your settlement made you feel better just because you were back home but there was still this void, somewhere inside of you. It felt even worse when you how your warriors greeted their families. Their smiles made you wish you could feel something like this.

Of course, people were happy to see their Earl and you returned to happiness but it wasn't the same.

You led Hvitserk into the Great Hall and as soon as you entered a big wolf's fur was placed on your shoulders, the hood that was made out of the wolf's head was pulled on your head. You laughed and looked at Hvitserk.

Hvitserk didn't think he could be greeted so warmly anywhere. Your people offered him not only furs and good words but also a roof over his head.

You sat on your throne and smiled, looking at your people. Tears will have to wait until you close the door to your room, now it was time to be Earl. "My friends, my warriors, my people. I can't describe how happy I am that God blessed me and our warriors with the chance of returning home," You said loudly and got up. "We lost many but many returned. Tomorrow there will be a feast to welcome the one that returned and honor the one that did not. I also want to introduce my special guest."

Hvitserk, as much as he was against the idea, walked closer to you, offering you a nod.

"This is Hvitserk. Son of Ragnar. Welcome him and be treated as your own because as long as he wants to stay with us. He is a part of our pack," You informed and your people cheered.

Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Thank you, dear Earl. Thank you, dear people. I assure you that I'll protect this settlement until the very last blood drop."

You gave him a sad smile. "You will stay here. There is one more room in Great Hall that wasn't used for years. I will order my thralls to prepare it."

Hvitserk bowed his head. "This is too much, my lady. I'll be fine just by staying among your people. I will stay at the edge of the city."

"I don't ask you as a Earl. I ask you as a friend, I want you to stay here. You will have days to get along with my people," You explained.

Hvitserk didn't complain anymore. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

Evening finally came and this one felt weird.

Most nights you shared with Ivar and you missed him and his body.

Letting out a deep sigh you get out of the bath and continue with getting ready for the bed. You put on a soft nightdress and brushed your hair. It felt different.

Since you joined Ivar back at York you didn't really have a chance to clean yourself properly. Suddenly you decided to visit Hvitserk so you got up from your bed and went to his room.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a permission to enter. Maybe he already had some girl over.

"Come in."

Hvitserk was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and elbows propped on knees as he was meditating. He offered you a nod. "Earl Y/N. What have I done that you honor me with a visit? Do you need my help?"

You sat on the floor next to him and chuckled. "Don't start with all that Earl thing, Hvitserk. I am the same Y/N that broke your nose. No need to use my title."

"Don't need to remind me about the nose all the time," he offered you a little too cocky smirk.

"Just trying to remind you that I am no one special. Sorry" You sighed. "And well... I am here because. I felt lonely."

"Being lonely doesn't mean being sad, yet I hear sadness in your tone and see it in your manner."

You raised your eyebrow. "How being lonely doesn't mean being sad?," Shaking your head you shrugged.

"I just used to spend the night with your brother. It felt good, I felt happy... Loved," You already could feel tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry. You can't change him. He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care about people's feelings. You'll find yourself a man anytime soon, just look at you. Young, beautiful, in charge. All men are losing head for you already."

You sighed and wiped your eyes with a short laugh.

"You are losing head for me as well? Who would want a woman with a face like mine. I should cry for how stupid I was to trust Ivar's love."

"It was not stupidity, what you experienced is used to be called love," he smiled softly.

"Was... Was it too much to ask for? To be loved for once in my life?," You asked, looking at him. "Father, left me to die. Mother didn't care enough to protect you. Brother tried to kill me... Man I loved..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"You're young, you have your entire life lying ahead. You'll fall in love not once, not twice. The pain is temporary, it will pass as soon as you'll sign a truce with yourself."

"I am young with a face eaten by a wolf," you muttered. "I... I have a stupid question."

"No question is stupid if you think about it."

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?,” you asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone... Not today at least."

"Of course. You provided me with a room with a bed for two. But you can take it full."

"I don't want to take it all. I want to share it with you... I don't want to be alone tonight, Hvitserk."

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a little smile.

You smiled and then climbed to bed. Letting out a sigh you nuzzled to the pillow and wrapped fur around yourself.

Hvitserk spent a few more moments meditating. After that he went to wash his face and neck with cold water. The he slipped into bed with you

"Thank you for that. I need to look pathetic... I am the Earl and I act like a child," you said cringing at your own action.

"Don't judge yourself. I don't mind it. I offered you that I can be a shoulder you can lean in."

"Yes, you did," you nodded and moved closer to nuzzle him. "And I am going to use it tonight."

He straightened his arm to make a room for you. As you put your head to his chest, he lightly wrapped arm around your waist.

You got comfortable and hummed quietly, closing your eyes. He was arm and soft, you just wished it was Ivar who would really hug you.

Hvitserk used his other hand to stroke your cheek. "Shhhh, you're going to get through this for you're the strongest woman I saw."

[kai-writes-fan-fiction]

In Hiding Part 6

Author’s Announcement: Hey guys! I really appreciate all of the recent feedback and the patience. My life has been pretty hectic these last few weeks, so as a reward for your patience, this is the longest part yet, and I’m really proud of it! I hope you all enjoy it!

P.S. Doctors scare me so sorry if the “medical” part of the story is shitty.

Word count: 2567

Warnings: mentions of blood, bodily harm, non-consensual medical treatment, reader is StRaNgLeD, tiny OCD routine, slight language, non-descriptive violence, and grammatical/spelling errors.

The Avengers were everything you hated. They were destructive, they took whatever they wanted without a thought about anyone else, and they loved behind a façade. You’d seen who The Avengers truly were; they were menacing, inhumane, and lacked empathy. They could’ve just left you alone; you weren’t hurting anyone. You may have been doing some illegal things, but they were minor offenses! You’d never killed, and you were against terrorism of any kind. You just wanted to go home, wanted to be left alone. Your freedom had been stripped away after you’d made your final decision. You wouldn’t fight with The Avengers; you’d do everything in your power to get away from them.

You looked up from the floor of your cell, into the eyes of Steve and Bucky, and you could tell they knew what was coming next. You were stronger than them; you could easily overpower them. They’d seen it earlier when you grabbed their wrists, and every second you sat in that godforsaken cell, you became more immune to the effect of the material blocking your powers around you.

You intimidated them, and you knew it. You knew that your time in this compound was running out, and soon you’d be free. Free. Free. Free. Free. You repeated the phrase in your head five times to lock it in.

You felt that you were ready to share your decision. “I’d never fight for you people, never. Never. Never! NEVER! NEVER!! You people are killers; you take everything for yourselves! You’ve destroyed cities, taken the lives of so many innocents. How can you live with yourselves?” You yelled. Your eyes had begun glowing, and your hair was lifted off of your head as your volume increased. “How?!” You questioned, your eyes shining brighter.

Steve and Bucky were backing into corners of your room, staring down at you. A blue aura began to form around you, illuminating the room in a vibrate blue. Your crossed legs began to levitate off of the ground, and a strong wind began to sweep through the room in a circular motion.

You didn’t want to fight, this trick took all of your energy, and the two super soldiers were helpless, so you decided this would be the perfect time to escape.

As soon as you turned to the wall farthest from the room, which you hoped would lead outside, a particularly strong wave of fatigue hit you. The wind and your aura began to dim, but Steve and Bucky knew not to lunge at you yet.

A string of mumbled curses fell from your mouth, and you let your feet descend onto the ground. This might conserve your energy so you could put more into escaping this wretched complex.

Being back on the ground and looking less powerful, Steve decided to go for it. He jumped forwards and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you into him; you could only wiggle your hands.

Lifting you off the ground, he tried to make it so you couldn’t use your feet as any leverage.

“Fucking dick!” You yelled, thrashing in his arms.

“Language!” He yelled.

You’d had enough of his bullshit and began thrashing more. His grip only tightened, but you were still stronger. There was a vent located right above you, so you flew out of his arms.

You tucked your legs into your chest after he tried to reach out for them and stretched your arms, reaching for the vent. You swiftly pulled it off its hinges and forced yourself into the circulation system.

The tunnels weren’t dissimilar to a maze, you tried to go in one direction, but after 20 or so corners, you have turned around. The alarms blaring throughout the compound, warning everyone of your escape, were bringing about an awful migraine, and you were becoming more and more fatigued by the minute. You wouldn’t stop, though.

You had heard a few voices in the tunnels with you, as well as footsteps. You made sure to avoid them, and after 10 minutes of wandering through the ventilation, you found an air vent to the outside. You pushed hard, and with the last bit of strength you had left, the vent became dislodged. You tumbled out and plummeted about two stories before hiding the ground with a painful ‘thud.’

You crumpled into a ball on the grass, and you felt blood trickle down your forehead. You could also no longer feel your right foot, meaning it was broken. Everything hurt, but your ribs were also a very obviously damaged part of your body. Every time you moved, you felt a shooting pain.

You slowly sat up and wiped the blood from your face, and the amount of blood on your hand was startling. You looked around other parts of your body to assess the damage and found that your knees and elbows were also bloodied, as well as a few scrapes here and there. You lifter up your blue scrubs to get a better look at your side, where a wide purple and blue patch was starting to form. Hesitantly, you placed two fingers on your side, looking for anything broken. The shooting pain was the response, and you pulled your hand away. It was most likely broken, as was your right ankle. It was also a swelling purple and blue mess, and the pain was begging to hit.

You let your eyes fall away from your body to look at your surroundings. You were greeted by vast green forest on all sides, and behind you stood The Avengers compound. It loomed over you, and you could still hear the alarms blaring from the inside. You struggled to get up, and, to no avail, did you.

So, you lay on the ground, your tribulation had failed, and you were doomed once more. You tucked yourself into a ball and cried.

‘How could you be so weak?’ You thought to yourself. ‘How could you let people like the Avengers-like HYDRA-control you like this?’

It would be best if you found somewhere to hide, and quickly. You wouldn’t let The Avengers control you anymore. You couldn't.

You pushed yourself up, so you were on your hands and knees, but you were weak, and I’m so much agony. You kept pressing on, though. You crawled your way to the forest and let yourself fall behind a tree. You must’ve hit a tripwire or a perimeter alert, as a new set of sirens went off and an automated voice yelled your location. You cursed, but you couldn’t go on much longer. With your injuries and your temporary inability to shift, you had to surrender.

—————Avenger POV—————

“We’ve got a location!” Tony yelled through the team's comms. “Kid’s headed East, and it looks like she’s stopped behind a set of trees. I can see her on cams.”

“Who should we send out there? You saw what she did to Steve and Bucky.” Implored Natasha.

“She looks pretty tired. We could probably take her if we needed to, but I don’t think a fight is in store.” Bucky advised.

“How about we all just go out there?” Steve added sarcastically.

“Oh yeah. Good idea, capsicle.” Tony agreed. “Everyone grab your things and meet me in the common room; we’ll all go out and surround her. Bucky, Steve, you go from the East. Natasha and Clint, you guys, take the North. Strange got here a few hours ago, so he and I will take the West. Loki, you’re just going to ignore me, so Thor, go with him and make sure he doesn’t do anything rash. And Bruce? You stay inside; we don’t want a code green, big guy.”

‘Okay’s and ‘mhm’s sounded through the Comms, and three minutes later, everyone was gathered in the common room, looking at one another surreptitiously, not knowing what would greet them on the other side of the doors. They didn’t know whether or not you’d be putting up a fight, but they were about to find out.

“We’re all here? Let’s go then.” Tony commanded. His suit's helmet fell over his face, and he strode forward, everyone else in close pursuit.

—————Your POV—————

You were weaving in and out of consciousness, and you still lay crumpled on the ground in your ball. You felt weak, and you couldn’t think straight. The world was a spinning vortex, and you almost thought you heard voices and feet. You opened your eyes and were met with the face of Tony once more.

SNAP! SNAP! In your face again, but with metal fingers instead of flesh. Tony likes snapping, it seems. You, however, did not. You attempted to growl to ward him off, but you couldn’t produce any kind of sound.

You turned your head slightly to face the rest of the team. They towered over you, weapons drawn and aimed at your face. Typically, you wouldn’t fear them, but in your fragile state, they were pretty threatening.

This wasn't very pleasant. You, one of the most powerful enhanced humans ever, were lying on the ground, bloodied and broken, at the will of The Avengers. They stared down at you, pity written all over their faces. Pity, not a feeling you wanted to be affiliated with.

Two metal arms reached out and wrapped around you, hoisting you up. A sudden rush of adrenaline caused your limbs to begin thrashing about, and the pain from your ankle and ribs subsided. Your sudden movement caused the metal arms encasing your body to pull you closer to the body they attached to. You felt the metal chest and put two and two together. You were in the mostly impenetrable arms of the Iron Man.

Tony picked you up carefully and began walking back into the compound, and the team followed suit. You tried to summon the adrenaline once more, but it didn’t want to come.

Feeling completely vulnerable, you decided to surrender. Yes, it was the cowards’ way out, but did you have another option? Your body was giving up on you, you couldn’t use your powers, and your opponents happened to be the killers of Thanos, another very powerful being.

There was no hope, so you just closed your eyes and allowed the sleep that had been creeping up on you to take over. Your vision faded into black, and the last thing you remembered was the mechanical hum of the Iron Man's suit.

——————————

You awoke to quiet chatter, and a beeping machine you could only assume was a pulse monitor.

As soon as your eyes fluttered open, your senses were flooded with a bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol.

You looked up from your supine position to find yourself strapped to a table once more, but stronger and additional restraints were added this time. You still felt weak, and your side and ankle were aching, as well as your head.

An IV was embedded in your forearm, and as your eyes traveled the length of the tube up to the bag supplying it, you found it contained a thick blue substance. It must’ve been combating your powers because you couldn’t shift.

You took in your surroundings and found various members of The Avengers watching you. Creepy.

“Welcome back to the land of the living (Y/N).” Chuckled Tony, “You gave us quite a scare.”

The rest of the team went silent, and Bruce, dressed in a white lab coat, whipped around to face you and ran to your bedside. He whipped out a flashlight and shoved it in your face, his fingers following to hold your eye open while the flashlight shined in.

“Pupils are dilating, so no concussion.” He hummed, moving to your other eye.

He moved to pull a stethoscope from his neck and pressed the bell to your chest. You bit your tongue to stop from yelling out when the cold metal touched your bare skin. You must’ve bitten it when you fell because you sensed a metallic taste in your mouth. Bruce was in spitting distance, so you let the blood and saliva pool in your mouth, and you prepared to launch it towards him.

As soon as he lifted his head, you released your spit bomb. Bruce recoiled and began incessantly wiping his face with gloved hands. A hand flew around your neck, preventing you from spitting again.

Blood dribbled down your chin, and you looked up to the face the hand belonged to. It happened to be the winter soldier, and you grinned up at him, blood coating your teeth. He stared you down, and you did the same. The rest of the team just stood by, wearing “What The Fuck Just Happened” expressions.

Bucky finally released your neck, and Banner walked back over, blood-free and with duct tape.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Tony mocked from behind Bruce as he and Bucky taped your mouth shut.

You tried to shake him off, but your movements were no use. Barnes had a firm grip on your head that prevented you from thrashing about, and Bruce was wrapping your face.

‘Duct tape is the best they can do?’ You thought to yourself. ‘Do they know that duct tape loses its stick when wet?’

You laughed to yourself, and Bruce and Bucky ceased their actions and looked up at you, as did the rest of the team.

“What’re you laughing about?” Bucky snarled.

You only shook your head and rolled your eyes. If they didn’t know, why tell them?

Banner ripped the tape and stepped back. Bucky released your head, and you stared up at the ceiling, hoping they’d all leave.

“The rest of you can go. Bucky, you stay here. I need help controlling her.”

“You got it, Banner.”

The rest of the team reluctantly left, leaving you, Bucky, and Bruce. You looked over to them and stared them down with undeniable murderous intent.

“So, uh, what’re we doing next?” Bucky turned to Bruce, who was still staring you down.

Bruce snapped out of his trance and looked over to Bucky. “She’s still got some injuries from her fall; I need to check those out. Do you have any medical training?”

Bucky nodded. “A little bit, from when I served. Just basic stuff.”

“We can work with that.” Bruce crossed his arms and walked in the direction of your injured ankle.

You tried to get away, but the power suppressors and restraints prevented you from doing anything, so you just wriggled around uselessly.

Banner pressed two fingers to your swollen and bruised ankle, and you bit your tongue to stifle a muffled scream. He moved his fingers to another part of your ankle, and you hit your head against the table to suppress another outcry.

“Bucky, can you grab some Ace bandage? I think the Talus is fractured. We’ll need an X-Ray to make sure, but I doubt she’ll cooperate.”

“I can make her, or we could try sedation.” Bucky offered.

Bruce seemed to rather like that idea, as his brows raised, and he procured a metal syringe.

Forcing it into your arm, you let out a muffled, yet surprised yelp. Immediately after the syringe was removed from your arm, your world began to darken, and you became dizzy.

You tried and failed to resist, but your body gave in, and the last thing you saw was Bucky and Bruce watching you.

To be continued…

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