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whitedarkmoonflower · 13 days ago

Text

Blood brother

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: I kind of hate it. It's so long since I wrote something and it feels like first time again. I have wanted to write it for a while already but never got to it. It's a wonderful idea planted into my head by the lovely @thenameswinter99 in one of our chats but I know I made it different, so I hope you'll not be angry with me.

Warnings: actually none. Some description of violence but nothing very graphical

Word Count: 8,7 K (sorry 😅)

Summary: having lost everything and thinking she's been abandoned by everybody, even her best friend Sihtric, reader on her quest for revenge founds out that life can be full of surprises and that there is always space for hope

The night was dark, the feeble, pale light of the new moon barely illuminating your path through the woods. You shuddered as if trying to shake off the cold, the chill air biting your cheeks and each exhale leaving a shimmering, silvery fog in the air. Yet you didn’t stop, didn’t turn back. Just the opposite.

Your small feet quickened their pace, finding the path beneath them with the assuredness of a cat on the hunt, and with each step you took your eyes adjusted further to the darkness and to the eerie shadows and flickering shapes the moonlight made dancing around you.

You should have been scared, a small girl alone in the middle of the forest, the familiar and warm lights of your home far behind. But you weren’t, not anymore.

You pressed on, ducking under the bony, outstretched arms of thorn bushes and leaping over moss covered, fallen trunks. Yes, there had been fear, but that was before. Before this forest had become your home, your secret ally, the protector of your dreams. Before you had learned to become one with it, to listen to its whispers, to feel its heartbeat in the quiet rustling of the leaves.

Before you had met him.

—----------------------------------------------------

The sun was slowly dipping behind the horizon, making the shadows grow longer, and a distant crack of a twig sent your heart racing. You had never been so scared before in your whole life.

You had been picking berries, one step leading to another, each shiny little red perl hidden in the green tapestry of shrubs inviting you further and further from the familiar path until there was no path at all, only an impenetrable thicket of trees and bushes all looking alike.

You clutched the small basket you had been carrying as if it could shield you.

That was when you heard that low, unmistakable growl behind you.

You spun around and froze, your legs refusing to obey your desperate need to run. A wobbly step back sent you tumbling to the ground, a loud shriek escaping your lungs.

Wolf, as if stepped out of the fairy tales your grandma told you before sleep. You had never seen one before but there was no doubt, your grandma had always been a vivid teller of stories.

Eyes wide open you stared at the majestic animal before you and waited. Waited for the end to come.

“Don’t move,” a soft and strangely calm voice reached you as a small silhouette of a boy probably the same age as yourself suddenly stepped between you and the wolf. “It can feel your fear.”

“I’m scared,” you whispered, as tears started to stream down your face.

“I’m not,” he said simply.

The wolf snarled, shifting its weight as though preparing to pounce but the boy didn’t flinch. Instead, he crouched slightly, meeting the animal’s gaze head-on. A strange, low sound rumbled from his throat—a growl, so very similar to the one the wolf had made just a moment ago that you couldn't help but shudder.

The wolf’s ears twitched, and for a while they just stood there staring at each other. A soft whine escaped you from the burning feeling in your lungs as you realised you’d been holding your breath, and you felt wolf's gaze shifting between you and the boy as if considering his chances.

The boy leaned forward slightly, his thin frame taut like a drawn bowstring. The wolf snarled, its hackles raised, but there was a slight uncertainty in its posture now. The boy didn’t waver, his eyes locked with the creature as he bared his teeth.

The wolf hesitated, its tail giving a flick of irritation, and then with a final growl, it broke eye contact, lowered its head and started to step backward. Its movements were slow, reluctant, as if it hated admitting defeat, but after a few steps it turned and with a few leaps disappeared into the shadows.

The boy straightened, his small chest rising and falling as he caught his breath, and for the first time, he turned to you, “It’s gone,” he said simply but you just continued to stare at him, your ability to speak stolen from you both by fear and awe plainly written on your face.

The boy was thin and malnourished, with bruises on his arms and legs, clothes hanging off his bony frame and the dirt smudged on his face, his bare foot rustling against the soft forest ground.

He looked fragile, even breakable, but it wasn’t his disheveled appearance that struck you most, it was his eyes. One was a piercing blue, while the other earthy brown, shining with an inexplicable mixture of defiance and warmth.

“You shouldn’t wander this far into the woods alone,” he added, tilting his head and observing you with open curiosity, and you noticed how melodic and soft his voice actually was. “It’s not safe.”

It felt like a dream. He extended a hand to help you up, and you took it, your fingers trembling against his. His grip was surprisingly firm, grounding, and you couldn’t help stealing glances at him as he led you back to the path, your hand safely in his.

You both reached the edge of the forest in silence where he released your hand reluctantly, his fingers slipping away so slowly as though they didn’t want to let go. The boy's large, expressive eyes followed you as you stepped into the meadow, and it suddenly struck you that you had not the slightest idea who your mysterious saviour was.

“What’s your name?” you asked, turning around and finally finding your voice even if it still sounded shaky.

He hesitated, his gaze shifting back toward the trees, as if unsure whether to answer or rather retreat. “Sihtric,” he said at last, his tone strangely wary, eyes darting to the ground. “Sihtric Kjartansson.”

“Will you come back tomorrow?” you asked.

His lips curled into a small, almost shy smile. “Maybe,” he finally said, but the faint glimmer in his mismatched gaze told you he would.

The next day, you returned with fresh bread and a small portion of ham tucked neatly into your linen shoulder bag. You weren’t sure if he would really come, but you hoped, and as you crossed the meadow, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, leaning casually against the trunk of the great oak.

“I brought you something,” you said as you stretched out your hand to offer the loaf of fresh bread. He hesitated, his gaze flicking between your face and the bread, his beautiful eyes mirroring a quiet surprise. It seemed as if he wasn’t used to kindness.

“You saved my life,” you added. “Please, let me thank you.”

Sihtric’s fingers slightly brushed against yours as he took the bread, and the brief contact sent a surprising rush of warmth to your cheeks, forcing you to look away, as you suddenly became aware of the heat rising in your face.

“Thank you,” he said at last as he held the loaf carefully, almost reverently, as though it was something precious.

—---------------------------------------------------

You stopped, listening to a call of an owl echoing through the stillness of the night, before resuming your run. It was the signal and you were late.

“And I already thought you’d chickened out and wouldn’t come,” a familiar voice greeted you as you stumbled into the small clearing, a faint taunt lacing the words.

“Mom stayed up late with her sewing,” you replied, breathless from your relentless sprint through the woods. “I couldn’t sneak out before she went to bed.”

A small figure emerged from the shadows of the nearby trees. Without hesitation you grabbed the hand outstretched towards you and let it guide you to the center of the clearing with a makeshift arch formed by a strip of turf propped up by three spears.

“Sihtric, where did you get these?” you asked, your eyes widening as you admired the haphazard construction.

“Everyone’s busy packing and fussing around,” Sihtric replied almost nonchalantly. “It was easy to grab a few things and sneak away. But I’ve got to bring them back before dawn, or I’ll get the shit beaten out of me.”

You shuddered, turning to look at the boy beside you. Sihtric’s voice was steady, but there was that subtle set of his jaw and the faint quiver in his grip.

“Stay,” you said. You wanted to sound confident, resolute but the way the word trembled on your lips, that sudden crack in your voice, it all betrayed your desperation. “Hide in the woods, and when they’ll be gone, come to my house. My father won’t turn you away if I ask him to take you in.”

But you already knew the answer.

“I can’t,” he said softly, his response almost a whisper. “I can’t leave my mom. She needs me. I have to take care of her.”

You squeezed his hand tighter, wishing there was something else you could do, something else you could say to make him change his mind. You knew there wasn’t. Your small world was falling apart, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” you said, withdrawing your hand and reaching into the small linen bag slung over your shoulder. “I brought fresh bread. Mom baked it just yesterday.”

Sihtric smiled faintly, just a shadow of his usual mischievous grin, but his gaze returned to the arch.

“Let’s do it first, if you are still sure about it,” he tugged you gently toward the arch.

You nodded, swallowing hard. You wanted to smile, but your lips trembled. “Of course I am. ”

“Alright.” Sihtric let out a shaky breath, and crouched down to retrieve a small knife he’d hidden in the grass beneath the arch, its blade a bit dull but still usable.

Without any further hesitation he drew the blade lightly across his forearm. The cut was clean and straight, a thin red line beading quickly with blood. He hissed softly at the sting but held steady, extending his arm to you.

“Your turn.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you took the knife, not that you were afraid of the pain. It was the significance of the moment that made your heart hammer in your chest. Sihtric watched you carefully, something like concern flickering across his face.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re scared,” he said quietly.

“I’m not scared,” you scoffed at Sihtric, tightening your grip on the handle and pressing the blade to your forearm, but your hand slipped slightly, and the cut ended up uneven and jagged. You gasped at the sharp pain, your free hand instinctively reaching out to press against the cut.

“You alright?” Sihtric asked, alarm evident in his voice.

“Yeah,” you whispered, blinking back tears. “It’s fine. It’s just... shit, it’s so crooked.”

He gave you a small, encouraging smile. “Doesn’t matter. It still counts.”

Sihtric held out his arm, his bloodied cut facing yours. You looked up, trying to read the expression on his face before pressing your wounds together. Sihtric wrapped a strip of fabric around your joined arms, and you helped him to tie it tighter.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Now we have to say it.”

You both spoke at the same time, voices barely above whispers but full of determination.

“Our blood is one,

joined under the moon and stars.

Brother and sister for life and beyond.

Your pain is my pain; your joy – my joy.

Wherever life leads you,

You will not walk your path alone.”

The world around suddenly felt still, as though even the forest was holding its breath because you both surely were.

You looked down at your bound arms, a small but proud smile touching your lips.

“Remember the wolf?” you suddenly asked, breaking the quiet.

Sihtric glanced at you, a small, knowing smile brightening up his eyes. “I wasn’t scared,” he said, his voice teasing.

“Liar,” you said, nudging him with your shoulder. But deep down, you knew it was true.

He reached out to ruffle your hair with his free hand, and you couldn’t help but lough. “Come on, sister,” he said. “Let’s eat that bread before the night gets colder.”

—----------------------------------------------------

The door closed with a quiet thud behind you as you slumped your back against it, fighting to steady your frantic breathing, to silence the voice in your head, screaming that this wasn’t right, that it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Raising your trembling hand, you let your fingers hover over your burning lips. Your very first kiss. Light like a feather, hot like a fire. You hadn’t planned this. You didn’t even fully understand how it had happened.

It was just that strange feeling as Sihtric’s fingers had hesitated to let go of your hand just like that first time you had met, that haunting look of regret and sadness in his beautiful, mismatched eyes and the heaviness in your own chest. It all had been too much to bear for your small, fragile heart, so you just did it. The only thing you could think of.

You rose onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

And then you ran.

You ran as if your life depended on this, as if a hundred wild beasts were chasing you down, the touch of Sihtric’s soft but slightly chapped lips against yours burning in your mind.

Your very first kiss. A good by. A farewell. A promise.

You’ll not walk your path alone.

___________________________________________

You shifted carefully, stretching your numb legs one at a time. The night was cool but thanks gods – dry, a welcome change after an endless week of steady mizzling. That annoying faint drizzle was capable of seeping through every seam of your leather armour, soaking through all layers down to your undergarments and drenching it until there was not a single dry thread left.

The Danish camp lay just beyond the treeline, its fires casting flickering shadows across the ground. You had been following them for weeks – them and other groups travelling from and to Dunholm.

Your breath was slow and even. This was far from being new to you. Nights spent on the hard earth under the beautiful blanket of stars had long become your way of life. You didn’t complain, you had learned to endure, to let the numbness creep into your body without letting it dull your mind.

You shifted again, crouching closer, trying to get a better view on the fireplaces and to be able to catch glimpses of conversations. The underbrush rustled softly, and you froze, waiting for any sign that you’d been heard. Nothing. The camp remained busy but apparently oblivious of your presence.

Your fingers instinctively checked for the hilt of the dagger at your hip. All you wanted was to sneak through the bushes right into that nest of wasps, taking one life after another, quiet and deadly. But it was not yet the right time for that.

You had dreamt of it for years. Of being here. Of finding your way into that damned fortress. Of wiping the name of the man that had taken everything from you from this world and any other worlds that possibly existed whether they called them Valhalla or Heaven.

There hadn't been a single night that you haven’t woken up covered in sweat from the scattered images of the smoldering ruins of your home dancing before your closed eyes as clearly as the stars above you now. It was as if you could still smell the acrid stench of burned wood and flesh.

Every fiber of your being longed to storm through Dunholm’s gates, to plunge your blade into Kjartan’s heart and to burn it all down to the ground as they had done to you. But you knew too well that this was not possible, that this would only lead to your own doom and not theirs. You had to wait and lurk in the dark, searching for a way that would ensure their ruin. You had waited years for this. You could wait a little longer.

“Distracted, are we?” a soft voice murmured near your ear, calm and quiet as in the same moment you felt a cold steel pressing against your throat. Your body tensed up and your fingers slowly wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, readying for the strike.

“Move, and you’ll lose your head,” the voice continued, the blade pressing just a fraction closer and a hand landed on your shoulder, keeping you in place.

You cursed yourself silently, the threat was as calm as it was deadly.

“Drop your weapon,” he ordered.

You hesitated, your mind weighing the odds.

“Now,” he snapped, his tone sharpening.

“Fine,” you said, slowly pulling out the dagger and then you felt it – a shift in his grip, the tiniest slackening of pressure. It was all you needed.

You twisted sharply, pulling away from the blade while driving your elbow backward into his ribs. His grunt of surprise was satisfying, but you didn’t stop. Spinning on your heel, you unsheathed your dagger completely and brought it up between you.

The two of you stood frozen, knives pointed at each other’s throats. It was too dark to see the man clearly. The firelight from the camp didn’t reach your hideaway, and the moon was new, just a small slice in the dark sky, casting only fleeting, shifting shadows over his face.

All you could tell was that he was young, well built and lean, unmistakably a Dane and a warrior. You were pretty sure he didn’t belong to the camp you were spying on as you knew by now all the men there – an observation that did nothing to calm you as he still could be an enemy.

His grip on his own blade was steady and his breathing even. If he was surprised by your sudden move, he didn’t show it, and there was a sharpness in his gaze that kept you on edge.

“Who are you?” He was the first to break the silence.

You tightened your grip on your dagger: “That depends on what your intentions are.”

“That depends on what you’re doing here,” he shot back, and for a split second you thought there was something strangely familiar in his slightly mocking tone.

You hesitated, your mind racing for some plausible reply as there was no way of revealing your true purpose. “I’m just passing through,” you said finally, knowing that the simple answer will not satisfy, but you needed some time to decide on your next move.

“Passing through?” the young warrior snorted. “Near a Danish camp, armed, and skulking in the shadows? Whom are you trying to fool?”

“And what about you?” you countered, trying to mask your nerves with defiance. “What are you doing here?”

But before you could continue the exciting conversation a distant shout shattered the stillness.

“Someone’s out there!”

Your breath hitched. The sound of boots hurriedly stumping against the ground grew louder, accompanied by the glint of torchlight weaving through the trees. The young Dane glanced toward the noise and then back to you as if weighing his options.

“They’re coming,” he muttered, pulling his blade back. “We can’t be found here.”

You hesitated, your instincts screaming to keep your guard up but the sound of the approaching Danes left little choice, and you carefully lowered your own weapon.

“Fine,” you said through gritted teeth. “But if you try anything—”

“Save the threats,” he snapped, his eyes briefly meeting yours. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed your wrist, and before you could protest, he was leading you through the dense forest. You stumbled after him, the sounds of pursuit growing fainter with every step. He moved like a shadow, his pace quick but deliberate, his grip firm enough to keep you close without hurting you.

When you finally stopped, your chest was heaving, and your lungs burned from the frantic run. It seemed that you had shaken off the pursuers at least for now.

“Now,” he breathed, trying to catch his breath, “who are you really? And why were you watching the camp?”

He didn’t seem like a raider nor one from Kjartan’s men but he was clearly dangerous, and trusting him was a risk you couldn’t afford to take.

“I’m no one,” you said softly. “Just someone trying to survive. I’m no threat to you. You were not keen to be discovered by the Danes in the camp, nor am I. Let’s just part in peace.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Survivors don’t spy on camps full of Danes. And they certainly don’t carry daggers like yours.”

You glared at him, your fingers itching to draw the weapon again. “And what about you? You’re not exactly a farmer out for a midnight stroll.”

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough,” he said, crossing his arms. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”

“Then maybe we should leave it at that,” you said with a sly smile.

He tilted his head, studying you in the dim light. “For now,” he said slowly. “But don’t think I trust you.”

“Likewise,” you shot back, even as a small part of you couldn’t ignore the strange pull you felt toward him. There was something about the way he carried himself, the quiet intensity in his voice, that spoke to you, that reminded you of something, making shivers run down your spine but before you could give it another thought a distant shout broke the moment.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, his tone all serious again. “They won’t stop searching until they’re sure the woods are clear.”

You nodded reluctantly as the distant shouts grew louder and suddenly the torchlight started weaving through the trees like restless fireflies. Both of you tensed, instinctively drawing your blades and exchanging a sharp glance. An unspoken agreement passed between you: survival first, questions later.

Then the Danes burst through the trees.

“Over here!” one of them roared, his axe glinting in the firelight, and more followed.

The man beside you—lean, quick, and deadly—moved before you could think. His blade flashed in the dim light, cutting down the first attacker. You followed, blocking a strike aimed at your side and countering with a swift slash to your opponent’s arm. The Dane howled in pain, but there was no time to celebrate your small victory as another man charged at you, forcing you to dodge and roll, barely escaping his axe as it came down.

You fought together as if you had had years of practice behind. You couldn’t help but admire the way the young warrior moved, his movements fluid and practiced, filled with wild ferocity. The two of you were a perfect balance as if this were a dance where each movement needs to be attuned to the other, seamlessly covering each other as the Danes closed in.

But there were too many of them.

A sharp blow caught you off guard, knocking the dagger from your hand and making you stumble. You groaned in pain as a Dane’s boot sank into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the ground. Before you could recover a blade was pressed against your neck.

“Drop your weapon!” the man yelled, jerking you to your feet and wrenching your arm behind your back.

“Drop your weapon, or she dies,” the Dane repeated, his eyes narrowing at your companion.

You snorted loudly, the sound sharp and defiant, despite the blade pressed against your throat. “You think that’s a threat?” you spat. “He doesn’t even know me.”

You looked over to the young warrior, frozen for a moment, his knife and axe still in his hands, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Something flickered across his face – annoyance, or was it concern as he turned, his eyes fixed on you for a brief moment before shifting to the man holding you.

You could clearly see the hesitation in the young warrior, his jaw tightening, his movements deliberately slow as he scanned the Danes around all ready to resume the fight. And then he did something you hadn’t expected. He raised his hands slowly, letting the weapons fall from his fingers.

“I surrender,” he said with a steady voice. “Let her go.”

The words hit you almost like a blow. Why would he do this? He could have fought his way out and fled. You were a complete stranger to him.

The Danes exchanged glances and one of them stepped forward, pointing his axe at the stranger. “You’ll come with us, both of you.”

Before either of you could respond, rough hands shoved you forward, the blade leaving your neck but replaced by the iron grip of two men dragging you away. Your companion was similarly manhandled and brought to walk next to you.

You risked a hidden glance at the young warrior beside you, as you still couldn’t grasp why he had done this. What was his plan?

“What are you doing?” you hissed under your breath, unable to keep the confusion out of your voice.

“Saving your neck,” he replied quietly, meeting your surprised gaze for a brief moment.

And that was when you saw them – his eyes. The light from the torches caught him just enough for you to see the young man’s face clearly for the very first time of your hectic encounter. But you didn’t pay attention to anything else apart from the eyes. They were of different colour. One blue, one hazel brown.

Your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t possible. It simply couldn’t be.

You turned away as quickly as you could, stumbling over a tree root. The grip on your arm twisted behind your back painfully tightened but you almost didn’t notice it, your mind too busy trying to reconcile the image before you with another one.

The mismatched gaze of a boy you had trusted, the boy who had stood beside you beneath a makeshift arch, who had held your hand as your blood mingled. The son of the man who had destroyed everything – your life, your family, your dreams. Your entire world, reduced to ash and bitter memories, and he had been part of it, whether by blood or by silence.

You shook your head in a silent dialogue with yourself, your pulse pounding in your ears. It can’t be him, you told yourself. It isn’t him. But even as you repeated the thought, a part of you still whispered that it might be. And if it was, you didn’t know whether to feel relief, rage, or something else entirely.

—-----------------------------------------------------

The coarse rope bit into your wrists with each futile struggle trying to loosen it. You sat with your back pressed firmly against the rough bark of the tree. The Danes had done a thorough job, binding the two of you on opposite sides of the same tree so tight to make even the smallest movement uncomfortable.

Your companion on the other side of the tree, if one could call him that, had been absolutely silent all this time. Being a bit uncooperative when it came to letting himself be tied, he had earned several heavy blows to his abdomen and a split lip.

You shifted slightly, testing again the ropes that bound you both, and hissed as the fibers just dug deeper into your skin. It all just made no sense. It just couldn’t be him. The Kjartan’s men, you’d been spying on, were out to kill him and had tied him up without hesitation. They hadn’t recognized him as one of their own, as Kjartan’s blood.

You bit your lip, trying to coax both your body and mind to relax.

—----------------------------------------------------

Sihtric leaned his head back against the tree. The sharp ache that radiated from his ribs almost made him groan. The blows he’d taken were nothing new; the pain being a constant companion in his life had long ceased to bother him. But this - being tied up, unable to move freel - this clawed at something deep inside him, making his skin crawl.

He clenched his fists against the rope, hoping that the sharp pain in his wrists would stop his mind from wandering back to the dark days under Kjartan’s roof, where being bound wasn’t just punishment but a lesson in submission, a lesson in unworthiness of his life to his own father.

He had vowed to himself long ago never to let anyone have that power over him again. Yet here he was, beaten and bound like a dog because he had been foolish enough to be distracted.

He cursed himself for his carelessness. He had seen the torches, heard the shouts, he knew the risk, he should have just left and run, yet he had lingered, drawn to you like a moth to flame. Why on earth had he decided to draw you with him?

There was something about the woman who now sat on the other side of the tree, that tugged at a part of him he didn’t understand.

Sihtric closed his eyes, trying to force the thought away, but it lingered. With a loud scoff he hit his nape against the bark of the tree in frustration just to wince in the pain. It had been stupid, yet he knew he would do exactly the same all over again.

He felt you shifting, straining against the ropes, testing their strength over and over again. It must be painful, he thought, yet you didn’t give up, you must have been scared.

“Hey, survivor, are you afraid?” he suddenly found himself asking, somewhat surprised by the hoarse sound of his own voice. “Spare your strength. You’ll need it. You’ll see, I’m getting us out of here.”

The silence around the both of you stretched, broken only by the distant murmurs of the Danes, sitting at the fire. You just snorted at the stranger's question.

Afraid? You couldn’t even remember the last time you were afraid.

People are afraid if they have something to lose, something they care about. You had nothing. The last faint hope had left you as the rumors reached you that your brother Ragnar – the only one from your family who was not there on the night of fire – had suffered a shipwreck at the coasts of Ireland.

You were alone in this world, you had nobody to care for, nothing to lose. You had nothing to live for apart from revenge and that was not a reason enough to fear death, to fear anything.

“Why did you do it?” you finally asked after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “Why surrender yourself to spare me? You don’t even know me.”

Sihtric tilted his head, staring at the dark canopy above. Here it was. He had wanted to calm you, to reassure you, to give you something to hold on to and you came back with questions. Questions he had no real answer to.

“Are you complaining that I saved your life?” he said, his voice almost hollow.

There was a pause, and he could feel you shift against the ropes again.

“No,” you whispered back. “I … I just don’t understand.”

Sihtric closed his eyes briefly, a sigh slipping past his lips. “Sometimes it’s just like that. It just… felt like the right thing to do.”

“You risked your life because it felt right?”

He let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “You make it sound foolish.”

“It is foolish,” you exclaimed, unable to hide the bewilderment in your voice.

“Then you owe your life to a fool,” he countered quietly.

You opened your mouth to reply but found no words and before you could think of something more coherent to reply you were interrupted by the crunch of boots nearing the both of you.

“Get up,” the Dane barked, crouching down to slice through the ropes binding you to the tree. The sudden release sent a jolt through your stiff limbs, but you barely had a moment to process it before his hand clamped around your arm, dragging you to your feet.

“Hey, where are you taking her?” Sihtric’s voice was sharp and there was an edge of worry beneath his tone, impossible to miss, as he struggled fiercely against his own bindings. His movements were desperate but ultimately futile, the ropes biting into his skin.

“Not your concern,” the Dane snapped, his grip on your arm tightening as he gave you a rough shove forward.

You stumbled, barely catching your balance, his bruising grip forcing you to move forward. The Dane dragged you toward one of the larger tents near the camp’s center, and your heart pounded against your ribs as you sensed your chance of escape nearing. You clenched your fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the sting of it forcing you to regain focus.

Behind you could hear the young warrior’s voice, louder this time, laced with barely restrained fury, but it only made your captor laugh - a low, cruel sound that twisted your stomach in disgust.

—----------------------------------------------------

The Dane’s body hit the fur laden ground with a soft thud. You crouched down as you listened, fingers wrapping tighter around the hilt of the dagger you had snatched from the sheath strapped to his back.

“Men,” you muttered under your breath. “Cocksure arselings.”

You froze ready to leap, the faint rustle of the tent flaps catching your attention as a figure burst into the tent. You were ready to strike just to stop at the last moment as you recognised it.

“Shit,” you hissed. “I could have killed you.” But the wide-eyed completely dumbfounded expression on the young warrior's face caught you off guard and made you let out a soft laugh.

You always preferred a fair battle over the stealthy death in the shadows, but this time you had no choice. The majority in the camp were too drunk to notice anything at first and when they did it was already too late.

You met the young warrior at the fireplace, both slightly panting, the blood covered hands and the eerie silence around you the only signs of what had happened.

“Are you hurt?” he finally asked, his large eyes flickering with the same resentment that churned in your stomach.

“I’m fine,” you returned, only now noticing the raw and bloody red lines around his wrists where the ropes had dug into his skin, betraying his earlier struggle.

“You want me to clean them?” you asked, your tone more calm as the adrenaline of the moment ebbed away.

He blinked, seeming surprised by your offer, then nodded slowly. “If you can spare the time,” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.

“Hey, you saved my life. Please, let me thank you,” you murmured, reaching into the pouch at your belt and pulling out a strip of cloth, a small flask of water and a tin of salve, and you didn’t even notice the warrior's eyes widening at your words.

“Sit,” you said, gesturing to clogs at the fireplace. He hesitated before lowering himself, casting a few more surprised glances at your side.

Gently, you poured water over his wrists, watching the dirt and blood wash away. He flinched at the sting, but said nothing, his eyes following your every move.

“You shouldn’t have struggled so hard,” you chided lightly, trying to focus on the task but being constantly distracted by the sight of his muscular arms highlighted by the sleeveless cut of his armour.

He let out a quiet huff. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Didn’t expect you to be so quick to deal with him.”

You smirked, dipping your fingers into the small tin of salve and smoothing it gently over the raw, red marks on his wrists. “Guess you’ll think twice next time about underestimating me.”

As you reached to wrap a strip of cloth around his wrist, he pulled his hands back slightly. “It’s enough… thank you,” he murmured, his voice trailing off awkwardly.

You raised an eyebrow, noting the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Are you embarrassed to let me help you?”

“No,” he said quickly, though the way he avoided your eyes and rubbed the back of his neck betrayed him. “I just… it will hamper me if it comes to another fight.”

You took his hands firmly yet gently, pulling them back. “Hey, don’t be foolish. It will not disturb you more than those,” you nodded toward the thick golden arm rings on his upper arms. “But it will definitely hamper you if these get infected and swell. Hold still. ”

He sat stiffly, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder, clearly unsure where to look. “I’m not used to—” he started, then cut himself off.

“Not used to what?” you prompted, glancing up as you tied the bandage securely.

“Being… taken care of,” he admitted quietly.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you smirked. “Even warriors need someone to patch them up sometimes.”

“You’re good at this,” he muttered a mixture of gratitude and shyness in his voice, and you smiled, catching the faintest trace of a blush appearing on his cheeks.

You had no idea why you agreed when he suggested spending the rest of the night in the camp. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, to leave it all behind and never look back, but you just nodded and followed him to the bigger tent in the middle of the camp.

“I’ll keep watch. Get some sleep, survivor,” he smirked, showing you toward the keep of furs.

A hundred times, you wanted to ask it, to ask for his name, and a hundred times you swallowed back the question burning on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to know and you didn’t. You didn’t know what to do with the truth. You had been angry for so many years, partially blaming Sihtric for what had happened, questioning why he hadn’t warned you, why he hadn’t come for you when everything fell apart.

You had no idea what you would do if this young, strikingly handsome, strong and deadly warrior was indeed the same wide eyed boy you had kissed on the edge of a meadow, your blood brother, the oath breaker.

You hadn’t realised how tired you were until you settled down into the softness of the furs. You wanted to stay awake, to keep an eye on him but the uneven struggle ended far too quickly and your eyes fell close.

Sihtric settled himself near the entrance, picking up the only task that made sense - sharpening his blades. Not that they really needed sharpening but he needed something to focus on – the repetitive rhythm of the movement, the sound of stone gliding over the blade, the simple feeling of purpose in what he was doing.

Not that it really helped this time as his attention kept straying, his eyes constantly drawn back to you.

He couldn’t explain it, that strange pull he felt toward you, that familiarity, that sense that he had known you for ages, that thrill and the way his heart had jumped in his chest when your fingers brushed against his skin.

You suddenly moaned in your sleep, your breathing turning shallow and uneven as you twitched and shifted. Sihtric stilled, his brow furrowing as he slowly set the blade aside.

He knew this all too well - the restlessness of the nights, the fear of closing his eyes, the helplessness of being dragged into the realm where will withdrew and dreams took over. And for all your courage, fierceness and confidence in waking life it seemed that in that realm you were hopelessly losing your battle.

“Hey,” he whispered, slowly crouching closer and placing his hand on your shoulder. You stirred, but didn’t wake up. “You’re alright. It’s just a dream.”

For a moment Sihtric just watched the shadows dancing on your face, hoping that you would calm down, but your breathing grew more ragged and another whimper rolled over your lips.

He didn’t know whether it was a conscious decision or something else more primal, more instinctive as he carefully laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest.

You were ripped from your sleep by the feeling of two strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. You instinctively froze, willing your breath to even out and preparing yourself to reach for the blade.

“It’s just a dream,” the soft murmur of his voice caught you by surprise. “You’re safe now.”

The moments passed on but nothing happened, he held you just like that, his muscular chest pressed against your back, his embrace steady, firm but at the same time so gentle and protective. You couldn’t even remember the last time someone had held you like that. Closing your eyes, you feigned sleep, somewhat ashamed for having expected the worse.

He let out a quiet sigh of relief, feeling your body relax and your breathing calm down, but his hold didn’t loosen.

“You could be her…,” he whispered, his voice almost too faint to hear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you are her.”

You felt his frame tremble slightly and unable to pretend anymore, you shifted in his arms and turned to face him.

“I could be who?” you asked, holding your breath.

“Hey, I didn’t mean any harm,” Sihtric was quick to let you go, embarrassment flickering over his handsome face.

“It’s alright,” you whispered. “Please… just hold me again. Can you?”

“If you want me to…” he murmured and his strong arms wrapped around you once more as you hid your face in his broad chest.

He nuzzled softly against your hair, his arms tightened slightly around you, as if clinging to some distant memory.

“I was just a boy when I met her,” he continued and you could clearly hear a faint quiver in his voice. “She saved me. She saved me in so many ways, it’s even hard to explain. The only person who looked at me like I was something worthy, who laughed with me, who shared bread with me.”

Your heart almost stopped beating as you listened, your nose buried in Sihtric’s chest, fighting back tears.

“But I couldn’t save her. I was there but I couldn’t save her. My father found it amusing to let me watch. He probably knew I would try to warn her, so he took me with him just to tie me up and let me watch how he burned down her house.”

“You look so much like her. The way you move, the way you speak…” Sihtric’s voice trailed off but then he suddenly continued: “Tomorrow Dunholm will fall,” he said with such certainty in his voice that you raised your head to look into his mismatched eyes.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“I thought you’d want to know. I think you are here for the same purpose I am. The same purpose my lord Uhtred and his brother Ragnar are here for.”

You kept looking at him, unable to avert your gaze.

“I’m not a complete fool. Even if you might think otherwise. There must be a reason you’ve been watching the Danes come and go around Dunholm. I’m guessing your reason is the same as ours - Kjartan.”

You wanted to speak, to ask more, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Your whole world had just turned upside down. Uhtred and Ragnar were alive. It was impossible. Sihtric was here, there couldn't be any doubts about that anymore, holding you in his arms. That was even more impossible.

This must be a dream, you thought, shifting closer to the muscular frame of your long lost friend, and if it was so, you certainly didn’t want to wake up from it, not now at least.

You waited and waited to be awakened from this strange dream, but the longer you waited the more you realized it wasn’t a dream. You felt Sihtric’s breath eventually evening out as his grip on you loosened and sleep finally claimed him, though his arms still rested around you.

It was when the dawn finally broke that you slipped out of his grasp, careful not to wake him, and left the tent quietly.

Sihtric woke not long after, rubbing the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He had slept surprisingly peacefully but the drowsy smile on his lips faded the moment he realised the space beside him was deserted. He sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the tent for you, but it was empty.

—----------------------------------------------------

You adjusted the helmet you had taken from one of the dead Danes in the camp, your face carefully smeared with mud. Just in case. You didn’t want to be recognised, at least not yet, not before you had found out what was happening, before you knew that Sihtric’s words were not just some cruel game, as you still couldn’t make yourself believe they were true.

It wasn’t hard to find Ragnar’s forces and slip between the warriors just a few moments before the assault started.

Eyes wide open you watched the massive frame of your brother, leading the suicide attack on Dunholm’s gates. What was he doing? Had the whole world gone mad? Had the Norns chosen you to entertain themselves, letting you find your brother only to see him heading into certain death?

Your surprise grew even bigger when the impenetrable gates of Dunholm suddenly cracked open, leaving the fortress to the mercy of the attacking Danes.

From that moment on nothing else existed apart from the deafening roar of war cries, the clang of weapons and the frenzy of battle. You fought like a demon, too immersed in the intoxicating feeling of being invincible, unstoppable, the harbinger of death and justice. You had never felt like this before.

You were reckless, drunk on the bloodlust and adrenaline, and it would have cost you your life if a pair of steady and strong arms hadn’t yanked you aside, burying an axe in the chest of a hulking, red faced Dane.

“Trying to survive, huh? Try harder!” Sihtric shouted, sinking his foot in the gut of another Dane about to swing his blade at you.

It was all over far too quickly, your head spun and you had to steady yourself against a pillar as you watched Ragnar butchering Kjartan, as you saw Uhtred pulling him away from the mutilated corpse and Thyra emerging from the back of the yard.

And then among all the chaos there was Sihtric, standing in the front line and watching the death of his father, triumph and satisfaction in his face fading into disgust and resentment.

—----------------------------------------------------

“Here you are,” you exclaimed as you found Sihtric sitting motionless on a hillock outside the fortress.

He didn’t respond, didn’t turn your way, his eyes fixed somewhere ahead on a small pile of stones.

You hesitated. Maybe this wasn't the right time, maybe he needed space, and yet you couldn’t wait, you couldn’t leave him like this.

“I was looking for you all over the place,” you said as you reached him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

Sihtric flinched at your touch, a faint shudder coursing through him, but he still didn’t turn to face you.

“You found me,” he said at last.

You lowered yourself beside him, your hand still on his shoulder. “Hey…” you began, but he didn’t let you continue.

“They’re all gone,” he murmured, as if speaking more to himself than to you. “Every single one of them. They’re all dead.” His voice cracked, and his fingers dug into the dirt beside him.

“I’ve had my revenge. And what? It didn’t bring them back. It didn’t make it easier.” He paused, his jaw tightening before he finally turned to face you. “There’s nothing left for me. No family, no purpose, nothing.”

“That’s not true,” you said, your trembling fingers squeezing his shoulder.

“You don’t understand,” Sihtric interrupted you angrily. “I couldn’t save them. Not her, nor my mom. The only two people to ever care about me, and both ripped from this life by the man whose blood runs in my veins. And nothing I do - nothing - will ever bring them back.” Sihtric’s gaze shifted back to the pile of stones in the distance.

“Sihtric, please listen to me,” your voice quivered as you reached for his hand. He didn’t protest, didn’t pull away. He didn’t even seem to register that you’d called him by his name—something he hadn’t shared with you.

“I … I have to tell you something… I thought I’d lost everything too. My family, my home, even the sense of who I am…,” you swallowed hard, feeling the tears welling in the corners of your eyes but you didn’t fight them back, you let them flow freely, you didn’t even wipe them away. “But I was wrong. There’s always something to hold on to. There’s always someone.”

“Not for me,” Sihtric murmured, pulling his hand from yours.

“Sihtric, you did save her. You saved her so many times and you kept saving her without even knowing it. I let grief cloud my mind, cloud my judgement. I blamed you for what happened, blamed you for being Kjartan’s son, for not coming to warn me, for abandoning me, for breaking your oath. But the truth… The truth is, it was me. I was the oath breaker. In my grief and self righteousness, I never even thought to look for you. I never realised that you might have needed me. I’m sorry, Sihtric. I’m so, so sorry.”

Sihtric turned to you and the confusion and disbelief written plainly across his face made you laugh bitterly.

“By the gods, Sihtric… Do you really not recognise me?” Hot tears pouring down your cheeks, you rolled up your sleeve, stretching your arm toward Sihtric.

Sihtric’s gaze dropped to your forearm. Carefully his hand reached for your arm and his fingers brushed over the uneven, jagged scar, running along your skin, tracing it as if trying to prove it was real.

He didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look at you, his gaze fixed on your arm and as the silence stretched fear slowly crept under your skin, fear that he would be angry, that he would hate you for not revealing yourself sooner.

Sihtric exhaled shakily, lowering his gaze to the ground, and your heart sank into your gut, expecting the worst, but then his fingers intertwined with yours, squeezing them almost painfully.

“Wherever life leads you,

You will not walk your path alone,” he whispered, raising your palm to his lips.

You cupped his jaw, letting your thumb hesitantly hover over his lips, and he leaned into your touch, his eyes falling shut, the dampness on his cheeks telling you more than any words ever could.

"I knew it. Deep down I knew it," he whispered.

Sihtric’s arms hesitantly encircled your shoulders, pulling you into a tight embrace and you melted against his muscular torso. You both just sat there for what felt like a lifetime, in silence, savouring the moment and each other's presence.

You were no kids anymore. Sihtric’s broad chest heaved in the rhythm of his breath and you pressed your ear tighter against him, listening to the beating of his heart.

It was against all odds but you both were alive and here and that was enough. You didn’t even dare to think about something else. You were content in this moment, and you wanted it to last forever.

“Do you remember that last dawn? In the meadow?” Sihtric’s voice brought you back to reality after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

You tilted your head to look up at him, and his mismatched eyes met yours.

“You can’t imagine how often I’ve thought about it,” he said, “wishing I had been braver.”

“Braver?” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “You are the bravest man I’ve ever met, Sihtric.”

“But I wasn’t brave enough for this,” he smiled and with a soft exhale, he leaned in.

The kiss was hesitant at first, his lips brushing against yours in silent reverence, almost as if he were afraid you might disappear if he moved too quickly. But it got more demanding with each passing moment, melting away all hesitation, all doubts, all fears and leaving just the two of you, completely lost in each other and in the salty taste of tears on your lips.

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric kjartansson

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slasherwrites-lemonmilk · 13 days ago

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𝓗𝓸𝓻𝓻𝓸𝓻 𝓢𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓼 (𝓧 𝓕𝓮𝓶! 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻)

(Includes Freddy (1980-1990s), Jason (1980s/2009), Michael Myers (RZ!), Ghostface, Leatherface (1970's Bubba, 2000's Thomas Hewitt), Art the Clown, Pennywise (1990s and 2010s), and Pyramid Head)

Intro: Established Relationship: The boys walk in on their s/o wearing their clothes.

Jason Voorhees - 1980's

You were sitting on the couch of the familiar cabin you now called home, the air outside was nice--too nice. That meant your beloved camp-revenger boyfriend Jason was out more frequently dealing with the rogue college kids on break. To pass the day by you had decided to clean the cabin up a bit, make lunch, and mend some of Jason's torn clothing. You had noticed that he opted out of his usual tattered leather jacket--something he rarely goes without. Examining it further--you found a bunch of holes, and you had the perfect color thread. You spent the next few hours stitching the jacket carefully, afterwards you just had to try it on yourself.

Call it the Crystal Lake

Cause you're swimming in it.

Great timing--Jason's home!

This man can't take his eyes off of you, I mean--you're so small in his jacket. And it's his jacket, you're standing in the living room--in his jacket.

Immediately his large rough hands roam over your body, half an hour ago those very hands slaughtered unwanted trespassers, and now they held the same gentleness one would use with a baby. He didn't talk, but the way his hands roamed the jacket on your figure--and the way you smiled at him made his heart melt. He used little actions to show you how he felt, he'd slowly been learning sign language--but actions always get his point across.

He would proceed to cuddle you for the rest of the day, only letting you take his jacket off if you got too hot.

He'd scoop you into his arms, holding you close--you're still wearing his jacket--as you softly read a book out loud for the two of you.

2009 Jason Voorhees

This man had a long day--a group of rowdy college kids interrupting his evening with you. He had just just gotten home, his deep lumbering steps ringing throughout the under base of the campground. The underground tunnels were originally hard to navigate--but you learned overtime, countless lectures and reminders from Jason--but you learned.

When he reached the ending tunnel to your large shared bedroom, there you were--curled asleep on the bed swallowed up in his old tattered blue flannel. He just stood there for awhile, watching you with an overwhelming feeling of comfort, seeing how much you missed him while he was gone. Eventually he lumbered over to the mattress, crawling in beside you carefully and scooping you gently into his chest. His large calloused fingers gently running over your scalp and through your hair as you slept, deep rumble-like hums sounding softly through his broad chest.

Also doesn't talk either--so expect him to tell you you're adorable by cupping your cheeks, giving you so many more shirts and jackets you can wear too. He'll even dress you himself and mash together outfits he thinks you’ll look cute in!

Most of them are god awful--but some actually slay?

Okay fashion icon

What are you wearing? Jason Voorhees.

You give him fashion shows--and you swear his face goes red under his mask, even if he huffs and denies it silently.

He's actually so sassy for no reason.

Rob Zombie! Michael Myers

(Teehee I'm in love with Tyler Mane from 2009 istg--AND he's my favorite Michael and I love him--this one's lowkey a self-write)

Michael was a man of few words--most believe none, but rest assured he speaks when he finds it necessary. He didn't own a lot of clothes, so you never minded doing his laundry in his childhood home--(You bought the house and restored it--just for him)

But imagine this man's shock when he comes home to find his small little s/o dancing around cleaning the kitchen--in one of his shirts.

Feral.

Literally feral.

Foaming at the mouth at the sight.

Sure--it was just a plain old, white t-shirt that miraculously wasn't blood-stained, but on you? It was everything to him. The way it draped down your body, spilling past your skin like a waterfall.

Fuck.

He wanted you.

Michael Myers was a man of many things, he was The Shape, The Boogeyman, The Incarnation of Pure Evil--but a patient man he was not.

So of course he'd immediately have his way with you--but then of course he'd take care of you in his own weird way.

"You look divine." In that deep scratchy voice he only graces you with. That's all you would get out of him--probably for the next month or so. With actions--he'd gently rub circles around your back--he'd 'pick up' a few more clothes and shirts, just to share with you.

Overtime you notice his closet gets...fuller? Eventually you pick up on the reason why, and after that it's over for Mikey--Cause now you'll wear everything he owns. Coveralls, boxers, tanks, shirts--nothing's off the table.

Art the Clown

Another mute...

UGHHH-Yeah he won't talk to you.

Like man is genuinely committed to the bit 24/7

OH YEAH--Anyways~

Art would be coming back from washing up when he'd see you wearing his clothes--more specifically--trying on the man's clown costume. He'd stifle any laugh that might escape and watches as you strike pose after pose in the mirror. He'd carefully watch you with those mischievous dark eyes, watching the way his costume rolled off of your body, pooling on the floor in your smaller stature. After all--he was very tall (David is 6'2) and he tended to tower over you.

My goodness you were so stinkin' cute.

He'd finally let you know he was there with a small 'toot' of a horn--causing you to jump and spin around.

He'd make really dramatic gestures at you, practically shouting how cute you were without using words.

Lots of polaroid's are taken of you in his costume--you can't escape it. (I hc that he's a polaroid nut)

He steals shirts for himself that he thinks you would love to steal wear. Always in blacks and whites, its his brand after all.

He may not talk, but he makes sure that his actions speak volumes.

1970s Leatherface

Honestly, he'd be so flustered if he caught you in his clothes. His first thoughts about how cute and small you were compared to him--watching how his shirt practically drowns you.

He wouldn't let you go, not even for chores. How could he? You're too cute!

He'd dress you up in all of his clothes-and showing Luda Mae every single one of them. Hoyt would probably hurt sexist comments as you--or target an insecurity, and though Bubba never stands up for himself--he stands up for his s/o.

Bubba would tell off the whole family in angry and displeased grunts and whines, possibly breaking furniture as well just to prove his point.

2000's Thomas Hewitt

(Oh my god I'd climb this man)

Thomas would have been coming back from the slaughterhouse when he spots you--curled up on the couch beside Luda Mae, mending some of the family's clothes.

But what caught his attention--was the fact you were curled up--in one of his button ups and a blanket.

This poor man tripped and stumbled his way over to you, soft, loving, and excited grunts all leaving his throat as he thudded over to you.

He'd fall to his knees, sitting eye level with you, his large calloused and worked hands caressing your cheek softly. He doesn't talk very much--but he manages to croak out a few deep words for you in that moment.

"You're beautiful..."

Expect him to lend you a lot more clothes--and if you really want to work him up?

His apron.

Imagine him walking into your room, and all you're wearing is his large apron. It doesn't even cover your body--it's so big its slips right off.

Pray to God the family isn't at home-he wouldn't let you be quiet.

Freddy Krueger

He didn't notice when you managed to snag one of his infamous red and green sweaters-but he noticed when you started wearing it to sleep.

Appearing in his well-known boiler room, sitting there-waiting for him in his own large tattered sweater. He chuckled lightly when he sees you, his eyes tracking up your body and he can't help but call out.

"Sweetheart--you're too sneaky for your own good~"

He'll shower you in playful but sincere compliments, but he will not keep his hands to himself--so beware. Every touch will be gentle yet sensual, he does know how to take his time surprisingly.

He'll make you feel absolutely stunning in whatever you wear--actually.

He will not keep it PG-13.

So now--you only wear his clothes when you want dick.

Ghostface

He doesn't mind when you steal his clothes, actually, he looks forward to it. He loves watching his shirts slowly go missing, and he loves randomly walking in from a blood bath--to see you swimming in his favorite shirts on the couch, waiting for him to get home.

"Look at my pretty baby, all comfy on the couch~"

Of course he only wears scary movie fandom shirts.

You get bonus points if you can tell him facts about the movies he doesn't already know about--team that up with wearing his shirt?

Pregnant. (sorry lolz)

As a funny little haha joke--he actually starts taking some of your clothes.

You'll walk in to find him sporting one of your shirts--amazed he could fit in it at all.

He thinks it's the funniest shit ever.

Pyramid Head

He has hundreds of old-bloodstained-tattered white muscle tanks to choose from, if you don't mind that kind of thing that is. If you don't--great!

He's in the middle of lifting weights when he spots you walking past his in-home gym. Somehow--through the metal on the pyramid shaped helmet on your boyfriend's head--he can see exactly what you're wearing.

And the way it naturally hugs your body.

Well- he's done working out now.

He follows you back to bedroom, watching you sit in bed watching TV from the doorway. Eventually making his way over to you in long strong strides, his eyes raking your body--in his shirt. Look how tiny and fragile you looked.

Daddy Bear mode activated fr

You'd be off limits--not even the nurses can see you dressed like this. You're all his. His hands would roam your body over his shirt, or play lightly with your hair. You're his Princess afterall.

Pennywise (2017)

He came back from his sewer hideout back to your shared home, and walked in on you wearing the fluffy ruffles of his costume collar (which explains why he couldn't find it earlier) and you had done a recreation of his makeup.

Were you...

doing an impression of him in the mirror?

(nerd----me too)

This man did a silly little head tilt, watching you before he let out a string of amused giggles. Of course he's going to mock your impression of him--but then he'll help you master it. You're his s/o, if you're gonna do something--do it right.

He himself will be the one to force you into the entire costume, gushing about how cute you are all the while. He doesn't really own any other clothing, besides maybe an undershirt or two--so you don't have many options to steal borrow.

So instead he'll let you sleep in his costume's (washed) long sleeve undershirt. Petting your head and whispering compliments to you the whole time.

He's so whipped for you--but he'll never admit it.

Pennywise (1990)

Poor Penny

He's an old grump half the time--and an old whip with corny perverted dad jokes the other half.

Also--are you trying to give him a heart attack?

I mean...

There he was--complaining about how you didn't finish the laundry and he couldn't find his suit--until his golden eyes locked onto your own, before trailing down at your outfit.

He thought his heart would stop right then and there-

There you were, taking pictures of yourself in the clown's costume--frozen in place as you both stare at each other. Pennywise taking a cautious step forward as his eyes remained fixed on his outfit--on your body.

"Penny?"

Your worried tone snapped him out of it--quickly scooping you into his big arms, he'll ruffle your hair playfully and pepper kisses over your face annoyingly.

"You look so itty bitty, love~"

I'll be so honest--he'd definitely take dirty pictures of you in his costume if you let him (or not)

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year ago

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JJK men with drunk reader

Part ll with Geto, Megumi and Gojo here

Pairing: Choso x reader; Nanami x reader

Word Count: 2,9k (Choso's part escalated)

Warnings: Nanami's part is not proofread (wanted to publish this today so badly), angst in Choso's part, fluff in every part hehe

As always, I apprechiate every little comment or repost. Thank you guys so much for your support <3

Choso Kamo

You weren’t planning on drinking that much tonight. To be honest, you were just looking for a good time, guys bought you drinks like there’s no tomorrow though. Who are you to refuse that favor?

You definitely should have, though. Because right now, you are standing with your back against a wall in a dark alley of Tokyo, whole body trembling in fear. The frame of an enormous looking man cut off every possible escape route you’ve had, every minor spark of hope you’ve had left. Fuck, how could you be so dumb, why did you take the shorter route through this abandonment district? All you have in your purse are a lipstick, a few bills, your phone and your keys. No pepper spray, no knife, absolutely nothing to defend yourself. Not that you would be able to, given that you aren’t even able to stand up straight.

“Come on cutie, don’t be shy”, he purrs, hand stretched out to touch your hair.

“Keep your fucking hands off me”, you hiss before sinking your teeth into his hand so violently that his skin bursts.

“Little bitch.”

With a swift motion of his bare palm, he sweeps you off your feet, head spinning when it hits the wet tarmac harshly. You are way too drunk to collect a single logical thought, mind racing uncontrollably as your blood discolors your sight crimson.

“I was trying to be nice, y’know? But that’s it. You’ll pay for that.”

Without hesitation, he grabs you by the throat und pulls your aching body out of the dirt, smirking at you with his missing teeth. Tears start to swell up your eyes, you simply can’t believe that it came this far. You should be home already, lying in your bed after drinking a whole bottle of water, sleeping in until afternoon. But this…This isn’t how your night should have ended.

“Help me!”, you cry out.

“Please, someone! Help me.”

“Shut the fuck up”, he interrupts you roughly, smashing your weak body against a nearby wall.

Focus. Try to have a sober thought for a minute. Your legs are free, perfect height for his crotch. If you kick him hard enough, he might let go of you. Every inch of your skin hurts like hell, bruises over bruises covering your weak frame. But you have to be strong now if you want to escape him. No, you’re not going down without a fight.

With a loud scream, you put all the power you have left into your right leg, kicking between his legs with full force. He lets go of you immediately, puny figure crumpling down on the floor. You have no time. As fast as your wobbly legs carry you, you run deeper into the dark alley. Away from that man, away from his attempt to force himself on him. Get away, fuck the alcohol and the way your whole body screams at you. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the air, tears still rolling down your eyes. You run and run and run until-

You harshly land on the ground.

Choso didn’t plan on hearing your desperate cries for help. To be honest, he didn’t even plan on being here in the first place. But still he stops in his tracks, eyes darting towards the direction of your desperate scream. What was this? It sounded like the cry of a woman followed by punches. Curses, maybe? No, he can’t detect any curses energy around this area. Is this even important, though? He is on his way to a meeting with Geto and the others, making plans on how to take revenge for his brothers.

He grumbles to himself. Whatever it is, taking the back alley doesn’t extent his path significantly. His steps follow the constant mumbling, screaming, crying and rumbling. Fast steps come near him, a woman running his way. His brows furrow. You don’t seem to see him, the panic in your glossy eyes seems to glow in the dark as you sprint forwards, directed towards him. Before he is able to move to the side, you crash into him full force, making you fall to the ground rougly.

The second your doe eyes dart towards him, he forgets for a moment how to breathe. You must be quite beautiful for a human being, even though your face and hair are covered in blood and your whole body is bruised. Carefully, he steps towards. What is he supposed to do now? What even happened?

“Back off”, you cry out, crawling away from him on the wet tarmac of the night.

Another pair of steps, this time louder and heavier. A man come in sight. The second he lays his eyes on your puny figure, he starts sprinting faster, directly towards you with a maniac grin plastered on his face.

“What do you think you’re doing, fool?”

He shouldn’t care the slightest. No, Choso should continue on, leaving you to your face. Why the hell is he automatically positioning himself in front of you, now facing that ugly man that seems to chase you?

“What are you doing here, freak? She’s ours, find your own little whore”, the spits at him along with a weak attempt to break Choso’s nose.

Pathetic. Who does that fucker think he is? The tiniest amount of blood is enough to pierce right through his pea brain.

All you can do is stare in awe as the stranger in front of you. Who is this man? And how was he able to handle the situation in the blink of an eye? The toothless man’s body falls to the ground lifelessly. It’s only you and him, the man with the threatening appearance who happens to be your savior in shining armor.

“What are you doing here all alone?”, he mumbles before slowly turning around and staring at you dead still.

With the last bit of strength you have left in your weak body, you lift yourself off the ground and glare at him, shivers running down your spine. Did he…kill him? How? When?

“Was on my way home from a party”, you explain briefly.

“How careless to take this path without fighting experience or weapons on your own”, his harsh voice remarks, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Thank you for saving me. He’d probably killed me if it wasn’t for you”, you mumble.

Fuck, you feel like freezing to death. Your clothes are sliced open, dirty and wet from the rain that fell a few hours ago onto the ground, head spinning from the alcohol and the way he slammed it into the tarmac with full force.

“You’re freezing.”

The stranger takes one step forward, leading you to panic all over again.

“Don’t touch me!”, you yell instinctively, body desperately trying to hide from his presence.

“Stay here, idiot. I’m trying to help you.”

Choso doesn’t really know why, but his arms wrap themselves around your trembling figure, your head resting against his chest while silent sobs escape your lips.

“I just wanna go home…”, you sniff and he can’t help but feel…

Sorrow.

You were probably enjoying your evening, not putting much thought into your way home, not expecting a men to attack you like this.

“Where are you living? This isn’t an ideal place to stay”, he mutters, unsure of how to act in a situation like that.

This is the first time he ever held a woman. Fuck, this is the first time he ever felt something like distress about a human in his whole life.

“I…I can’t…walk”, you stutter.

His gaze wanders down your entirely bruised legs. Who knows what that man did to you before he arrived. Anger rises within him, hands clenched into fists.

“I’ll carry you, then.”

With a swift motion, he wraps his arms around your back and knees, making sure not to hurt your limbs in the process.

You can only stare at him in awe. Who is this man, the man with that strange tattoo over his nose, the man who wears purple eyeshadow and a robe you haven’t seen before? Why is he helping a stranger, even carrying your drunk and injured body home? Even though something about him tells you that he’s not to be trifled with, you don’t ask him. Instead, you give him brief directions to find your apartment, eyes never breaking away from his gorgeous face. He seems young, maybe as old as you. But still, you’ve never seen him around. Is it because you’re drunk? You don’t know, but you can’t hold your tongue any longer.

“You are such a beautiful man.”

His eyes widen, staring down at you in disbelief. What are those words? No woman ever said something like this to him. How is he supposed to react? He should have let these men kill you on the spot, just leave you alone in this cold and dark alley.

But why, why do your words make his heart flutter?

“I mean, your style is pretty edgy and all, but it suits you very well. Haven’t seen you here before, though. You here often?”

“I’m never here”, he remarks dryly.

Are you really trying to start a conversation with him?

“We have to go right here. Aaaaaand there’s my place”, you announce weakly, Choso’s mind still occupied by your previous statement.

“Thank you for carrying me…”, you mutter when he lets you down gently, hands fumbling to reach your keys.

All he does is staring down at you blankly. What’s on his mind? Was all of that planned? Maybe he is like that man, maybe he just came here to know where you live…God, you are so stupid.

“You aren’t here to murder me, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding me? Do you really think I would have carried you all the way to your door just to kill you here?”, he remarks.

“Right…m’sorry, I think I’m still a little drunk y’know…”

Fuck that. Before you’re able to go into panic mode again, you wrap your arms around his body tightly. His scent is almost intoxicating, probably the best male fragrance your nose ever sniffed. And you can definitely tell that he’s a well-trained man underneath that strange clothes.

Choso can’t move an inch, all senses focused on the way you hugged him. It feels strange. Strange to be embraced by someone, strange that he helped a human being tonight. Why did he choose to follow your screams, why did it bother him so much that that other man laid his hands on you? And why does it somehow warm his heart to feel you so close against his own body?

“Thank god I ran you over tonight”, you hush against his chest.

Choso has to blink a few times.

“Good for you”, he simply replies.

But deep in his heart, he knows this isn’t only an event you will never forget. He himself will probably never get over the fact that today, he helped another human being instead of letting it get killed. But not only that.

You are breathtakingly gorgeous.

“Now go inside and find some sleep.”

With one last glance at the man who saved you only a few minutes ago, you step inside your apartment, weak body sliding down the closed door. Did this really happen? You might be drunk, but that man…

You’ll definitely never forget him.

Kento Nanami

“Don’t do it, (y/n). You’ll only get yourself into trouble. Nanami-san is a higher up, you have to work with him for your entire life. It’s not wise to call him and tell him about your stupid little crush”, Ino warns you while you scroll through your phone with a dumb smirk.

“I can’t hold back any longer Ino! I’m soooo obsessed with him!”, you cry out dramatically.

One call can’t hurt, right? Nope, that sounds like a good idea. The second your eyes dart towards his name, you press the call button, Ino freaking out next to you.

“You are way too drunk for a serious talk like that. Are you out of your mind? Hang up immediately, this is a bad idea, you will-“

“Is that you (y/n)?”

“Hello Kento”, you purr into the speaker.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?”

Nanami straightens himself in his seat, eyes lingering through the window over the city lights. Why would you call him this late at night? And why does his first name coming out of your mouth make his heartbeat pick up so suddenly?

“No, jus’ wanted to talk to you…Y’know, your voice sounds so sexy, absolutely…how do you call it? Oh, masculine”, you mumble.

Something about your usual so composed voice seems off, though. Didn’t you and Ino mention earlier that you are going out tonight?

“Are you drunk?”

“Hehe, yes”, you giggle, making Ino almost lose his mind next to you.

“Can you tell me where you are? I’m coming to pick you up.”

It’s far after midnight, too late for you to be out on your own. Is Ino with you? Hopefully he’s still there. His brows are furrowed, ears focused on every little word you say. You never called him by his first name before, let alone talked with him so openly. Over the last few months, the two of you got to work together closely. And slowly but surely, Nanami begin to fall for you. Your exceptional brain, your immense powers, the way you carry yourself with such elegance and wise words. At the moment though, you seem to miss your usual composure completely. What are you trying to tell him?

“Oh really? That’s so kind of you. Uh, Ino, you know where we at?”

Ino snatches the phone out of your hand, ice cold sweat running down his face. Fuck, hopefully this doesn’t cost him his good reputation.

“Nanami-san, I’m so so sorry-“

“Don’t be. Can you tell me where you are?”

“Of course, I’m sending you the location right now!”

“Thank you. Make sure (y/n) stays save, I’m coming to get her immediately.”

With that, he hangs up.

“He’s coming to get you, dumbass”, Ino mutters.

“How exciting!”, you speak out with glimmering eyes, heart already pounding against your ribcage by the sheer thought of seeing him tonight.

“I should meet him at the parking spot.”

“Stay where you are!”, Ino barks at you, hand holding onto the sleeve of your shirt for dear life.

In the meantime, Nanami is already on his way to get you with his head lost in thought. This is the first time you ever spoke so freely to him. And the fact that you called him this late at night while being drunk…Even though a part of him wants to be mad at you for being so reckless, to know that he was on your mind instead of everyone else makes him blush ever so slightly.

It doesn’t take long to find you. With elegant steps he approaches you and Ino, your eyes wide open. How does he look so fine this late at night with his shirt buttoned up so neat and his hand braced on his hip?

“You look absolutely del…delicious…Is that how you spell it, Ino?”

“Please stop talking (y/n)”, Ino begs, finally able to let go of you.

“Come on, let’s drive you home. Ino, do you need a ride?”

“No thank you. My apartment is a few blocks away. Have a good night. And you, drink a lot of water.”

“Gotcha!”, you remark, eyes filled with determination.

Until you have to really take a few steps outside.

“Ouff, is it just me or is the floor lave?”, you breathe out.

“Come on, I’ll help you.”

His arm wraps itself around your shoulder gently, pulling you close to his large frame. Even though your mind is clouded by alcohol, your heartbeat picks up in an instant.

“I could get used to that. Should get drunk more often.”

“Please don’t”, he replies, leading you to his expensive looking car and helping you get seated.

It doesn’t even take 5 minutes for you to pass out in his car, snoring in the most adorable way Nanami has ever heard. Finally he has the opportunity to shamelessly admire your soft features and the way your hair frames your face so delicately. You really are an attractive woman with everything he could wish for.

And maybe, just maybe, this is the perfect opportunity to ask you about your feelings towards him. After all, he can’t deny the spell you put on him.

“(y/n)”, he gently speaks out.

You don’t move an inch, not even when he allows his hand to stroke over your arm. Are you really that drunk? Nanami signs to himself, gets out of the car and opens your door – still no movement.

“I’m going to carry you inside…”, he mutters more to himself than to you, arms lifting you up with ease.

God, you are so breathtakingly gorgeous. Will he ever have the courage to tell you about his true feelings, that he wants you to be more than just a colleague? Who knows. What is way more important to him now is to take off your shoes, carry you into his bed and put a blanket on top of you, softly tucking you in while you groan in your sleep.

“Good night, (y/n). Maybe I’ll tell you someday how much you mean to me.”

“Night, Kento…”, you mumble back.

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g0kotta · 8 months ago

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Hunger

Dabi never got over the hungry feeling scratching inside of his body - itching to get out. Flowing in his blood. Seeping out of his pores. The anger - the obsession. You had to be his. (aka Dabi’s childhood best friend becomes a hero and he realises that his feelings never left).

Yandere-ish? Dabi x reader (no gender specified). This is like 600-700 words, so it’s just an idea I had. Might turn it into a longer fic later? This also might not be too realistic since I dropped mha a long time ago

(y/h/n) - your hero name

The bar is empty. The untouched whiskey glasses that sat on top of the cupboards - covered in a thick layer of dust. It’s quiet and the loudest noise in the room is coming from a clock which stayed hung in the corner of the leagues hideout. Shigaraki had left a while ago, probably to run away from the real problems for a few hours and play a few sessions of the game he was overly obsessed with. The others (which were seen on more rare occasions in the bar - unless it had to do something with the meetings) were gone at this hours.

The people that spent most time there, were Dabi and Shigaraki themselves (with the exception of Kurogiri, as he served as the bartender of this lonely bar).

Dabi lets out a sigh as he tilts his head backwards, the staples digging into his skin and he clenches his jaw. An uncomfortable feeling which he was more than used to after all these years. One of the few clean glasses was snug in his palm, no longer cold as the ice had melted a while ago. He slowly lifts it up to his lips and as the the chipped rim touches his bottom lip, he downs whatever mixture of melted ice and shitty cheap whiskey runs down his throat. He grimaces a bit, but shakes off the feeling of disgust. It was better than it had been before. At least now he has where to stay - a roof over his head. And now there’s other people around him too. He’s no longer alone. He sneers in his mind. He’s no longer alone. He needs to be alone. He doesn’t need the help of others to finally get revenge on the man he had to call a father. He tips his head to the front and puts the glass down, rougher than intended. It slams onto the table, filling the room with a loud bang for a second. The same hand reaches for the remote next to it and clicks on the first button it touches. He needs to fill the silence before it drives him completely mad.

But what he doesn’t expect to see is a familiar face. But it’s not a face that causes an unpleasant feeling to seep into his bones. No. It’s quite the opposite. His lips twitch as a small smirk forms on his face, his eyebrows raise in amusement. Finally. Something interesting.

“A new pro-hero is climbing up the ranks. In just a few months, the incredible (y/h/n) has reached the top five.” A woman with dark curly hair, smiles and pictures are displayed on the screen. Your pictures. “The people have been head over heels for the new young hero! The new generation of youth-“ she continues talking, but Dabi blocks out her voice.

You became a hero. You had chosen to continue the path that the both of you had to walk through. You continued the dream that Dabi had buried years ago, with Touya. His finger starts tapping the wooden bar top as a low, rumbling chuckle slips past his lips. He leans forward and rests his face on his palm. A small spark sets off in the inside of his body. A desire.. No. A need. Dabi needs to have you. You’re the only one that can bring some familiarity back into his life that has been longing, without even realising it. The sound of a chair scraping the floor echoes in the room and Dabi slowly walks out of the building of the hideout, the TV still playing in the background. He realises that he never got over the hungry feeling scratching inside of his body - itching to get out. Flowing in his blood. Seeping out of his pores. The anger - the obsession. You had to be his. One way or another, you’ll be laying in his arms soon enough.

He’ll make sure of it.

#imagines #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha touya #todoroki touya x reader

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nightshadeshadow123 · 10 months ago

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Sunshine is far away, rain clouds linger on

Based on the last episode of House Of The Dragon season 1. Just alternative ending to give it a happy ending, the new trailer have me feeling some kind of way when they found the remains of Arrax and Luke so wanted to write a comfort fic. Reader's dragon is roughly the same size as Caraxes in this. (Y/D/N) means your dragon's name. Got the title idea from @m3g555 book ideas on wattpad. If anyone knows where the gif of Rhaenyra and Daemon is from pls tell so I can give credits, Arrax one is from @lukearys

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader x Daemon Targaryen (although he's only mentioned in this one) Long cringe fic tbh but my first time writing for HOTD. If anyone knows which dragon readers dragon is inspired from in the gif Ily.

You felt gut churning dread engulf you when seeing Aemond on the back of Vhagar taking off into the dark skies, gaining up on the smaller white figure of Arrax and Luke but this only spurred you to ran faster to get to your dragon, running through the mud and pelting rain while desperately calling out the name of your trusty dragon who let out a croon, wings and talons thundering as loud as the thunder in the unforgiving sky above as he made his way to you in a hurry to meet you half way when hearing the panic and urgency in your voice, his towering black and grey scaled body coming into view making you felt a bit relieved, grabbing onto one of his spines to clamber your way upon the saddle on his back all the while cussing the heavy furs you wore for the trip slowing you down by being soaked.

The way your heart was hammering in your chest made you flinch more that the harsh lightning booming above. Rarely did anything scare you like this, especially knowing that Aemond is out after Luke on his silly little revenge fit he's still in.

"Sōvegon!" You urged when you had the reigns in hand, knuckles turning whiter by the moment from both the cold of being soaked to the bone from the raging rain and from how tight you're gripping the reigns when (Y/D/N) took off with speed, immediately setting to follow behind Vhagar, strong wings flapping repeatedly to gain speed and find gait in the unforgiving storm that was strong enough to make even a dragon struggle to keep up, making you even more fearful for Lucerys and Arrax with their much smaller size that is already struggling.

The wind howling through your ears was as deafening as the thunder and rain that made your soaked hair stick to sides of your face, occasionally hearing the screeches of Arrax in a way to try be comforting to Lucerys and the flapping of Vhagar's strong wings and the low rumbling coming from (Y/D/N) until you lost sight on them from the dark skies and clouds.

Vhagar's shadow loomed above Arrax tauntingly, adding more dread as the lightning briefly casted over her form. Luke look up fearfully but was too late to see her as she disappeared into the clouds again, only hearing the flapping of her huge wings.

Your heart nearly jumped into your throat when Arrax suddenly swerved to the side and (Y/D/N) swerved the other way, narrowly avoiding Vhagar from colliding into you, a uncomfortable growl leaving him while you frantically looked around, trying to catch sight of the old beast after she disappeared into the dark clouds again, only seeing Arrax's figure being slightly illuminated by the lightning reflecting against his white scales and Luke on his back just as frantically looking around to every side, feeling slightly relieved when he caught sight of you not too far away from them.

It was proved difficult with the rain roughly pelting in your faces and the dark clouds to spot the other dragon, having to repeatedly blink to get the rain from obscuring your visions.

You felt uneasy when (Y/D/N) became tensed underneath you, the steam coming from his snout becoming more prominent to your eyes before hearing the flapping off Vhagar's wings until she broke from the clouds menacingly from your right, eyes widening when Vhagar snapped her jaws at Arrax before trying to grab the much smaller dragon with her claws that they managed to narrowly avoid by diving dowards with Vhagar still hot on their trail when diving behind them.

"Dive!" you instructed to your trusty dragon, holding on tighter on the reigns when he dove downwards through the pelting rain and the darkened clouds to the raging sea below, narrowly avoiding Vhagar's tail from knocking you both out of the sky when he got dangerously close to her but this only spurred the two of you to go faster to try and get her and Aemond's attention away from them, the adrenaline pumping through your veins feeling exhilarating despite the fear gripping your heart in a death hold, not the good kind in your opinion.

"Adhirikydho! pālegon!"(Quickly! Turn) You heard Luke yell to Arrax when the three of you came close to rock formations, sharply turning after spreading his wings, the wind catching in them as Vhagar and (Y/D/N) follow suit, the wind tugging your dragon's wings made you grip even tighter than you thought possible, you could feel the way your hands are hurting from the grip on the reins, biting your lip until you tasted the metallic taste of blood, pulling on the reins to make the unexpected turn, wanting this to end and to just get home safely with Luke, back to your beloveds and the kids and just to warm up and sleep for hours. This chase was taking toll on you fast so you can imagine how exhausted Luke and Arrax must feel. You swore if you could you'd slap Aemond so hard that his hair would cocoon around his head for seven days.

Feeling annoyed when hearing the amused laughter of Aemond despite the rain and wind, smile wiped from his face when Arrax took another turn and dove between a narrow gap between two formations, causing your dragon and his dragon having to quickly fly higher again on time to avoid smashing into solid rock. At this moment you felt a little more grateful for Arrax's smaller size, having the upper hand at better agility and speed and being able to fit through the narrow gap beneat you and Aemond's dragons, knowing full well that Vhagar wouldn't be able to fly through that even if it meant yours wouldn't either because of his size. He wasn't Vhagar's size but he was much bigger than Arrax.

The time it took for Vhagar to reach a safe altitude you've managed to fly up right next to them, seeing Aemond glace your way as you glared at him, amusement dancing in his eyes and smile, throwing his head back as he burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Ao own iā gēlȳn! valītsos!" (You own a debt! Boy!)He yelled, furiously looking down to try and spot the child and the young dragon who have vanished from sight, this had you feeling relieved.

"Debts be damned Aemond! Leave the child alone!" You felt the anger bubble inside of you once again. They were kids back then and he asked for it in the first place. Luke was only trying to defend his brothers and the accident caused Aemond one eye but he still gained Vhagar for that and it was years ago.

Aemond huffed out in annoyance, opening his mouth to respond back to you but at that moment you heard Lucerys panicked voice.

"Daor Arrax!" (No Arrax!)He yelled before a fireball unexpectedly got hurled in Vhagar's face as Arrax zipped past the two of you when Vhagar nearly jerked her head into your dragon, a growl leaving her while you flinched in suprise when (Y/D/N) jerked to the side.

"Daor! Arrax! Dohaeragon nyke!" (No Arrax! Serve me!) you heard Luke ordered in fear, pulling frantically on his reins, feeling scared when seeing Luke lose control over Arrax as they disappeared into the clouds and more terrified when Vhagar let out an angry screech and begin to set after the tiny dragon again but this time you've got (Y/D/N) into motion on time, following on Vhagar's heel as Aemond got fearful when he lost control of her too, trying to steer her back and yelling at her to stop.

"Vhagar! No!"

Lucerys felt slightly relieved when they broke through the clouds and found calmness and sunshine above the storm, feeling Arrax relaxing too while he scanned the place to try and catch sight of you or Aemond, heart still beating unsteady when he didn't find you next to him.

He went to call out but nearly screamed when Vhagar unexpectedly broke from the clouds very close to his right, jaws open as she came at them with lightning speed but was heavily startled and confused when a dark shadow whipped past them and crashed straight into the side of Vhagar's neck while Arrax let's out fearful screeches while flapping repeatedly to not get swooped into the mess, feeling Vhagar's hot breath against them briefly.

Lucerys felt a mix of relief when seeing it's you on your dragon who barreld into the side of Vhagar and saved him and Arrax from becoming a meal to Vhagar when he could make out your dragon's black scales and red eyes.

You had to grab onto one of (Y/D/N) neck spines to keep yourself from falling off of his back when he dugged his sharp talons and teeth into the side of Vhagar's neck with a ferocious force that sent the four of your tumbling back into the dark clouds beneath you with a surprised roar from Vhagar and Luke letting out a yell of fear as he watched you fall back into the raging storm below, fearing for the worst of you being hurt or worse.

You've always been like his second mother even before you were with his mother where you claimed the two of you were only 'friends' having known her and Alicent since childhood, and the two boys have know you since their birth when you've always been there and having sided with Rheanyra after the whole Alicent thing, and you, him and his brother always getting into random shenanigans with their mother having given up on scolding when you and her sons got in trouble or got a bit too carried away while Daemon were urging you on and occasionally getting caught up too in it when he got involved in the relationship. And the time you wanted to strangle Alicent when she made Rhaenyra walk up flights of stairs right after giving birth, if it weren't for Laenor stopping you and your worry to support her all the way up each step, having given Alicent the most poisonous glare while holding Rhaenyra and baby Joffrey close. You were there to help her look after Joffrey when he was still a baby after Harwin's death when Rheanyra took it hard even though you were hesitant when it came to babies and their amusement to find you asleep with the baby asleep on your chest or either wrapped up in a blanket in your arms with you under your dragon's wing while you spoke with the dragon softly as to not disturb the sleeping baby. It was no different when baby Aegon and Viserys were born after the union with Daemon, it was hard to keep up with seven kids with Daemon's twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena, included from his previous marriage but those two were able to keep you atleast a bit sane since they were less unruly and always eager to help you and Rhaenyra around. And sword training with him, Daemon and Jacaerys and teaching them about the dragons as they grew up with their dragons by their side.

He smiled when remembering a few moons(months) ago how you nearly fainted when Rhaenyra told you she's pregnant and there is yet again a new addition on the way and how pale your face have gotten, eyes wide and Jacaerys having gotten worried along with Rhaenyra as she went to your side to make certain you start breathing again after the news, fussing over you despite all the amusement at your surprise, while Daemon were snickering in the corner along with Baela and Rhaena giggling. But during the pregnancy you were tailing behind her, constantly fussing over her, pulling out chairs for her and letting her rest while helping Daemon and the maids with Aegon and Viserys, refusing to let her do anything that could strain her too much and making sure she's eating healthy all the while glaring daggers at Daemon from his teasing but you made sure to get back at him.

You felt even more disheveled from all the clashing when Vhagar finally backed down, hovering heavily in front of you, Aemond looking to be in a heaving state too, for once looking shamefull when looking back at you, breathing heavily.

"That was very idiotic of you to chase a damn child on a much smaller and less experienced dragon on a freaking war dragon Aemond!" Your voice sounded as alarming as the thunder as you hissed the words at him like poison, a burning fury behind your eyes.

"I...I..I'm so sorry (Y/N)." He spoke hesitantly, trying his best to not look away in his nervous state as your words got to him, reality finally seeping in as adrenaline began to slowly wear off.

"You could have killed them Aemond. What were you thinking?"

"I lost control over Vhagar. I just wanted to scare him and..."He mumbled before trailing off, shame in his voice at having to admit that. His mother certainly would have been greatly disappointed if she witnessed this as much as his father who never really gave him the attention he needed, only having ever noticed his mistakes.

Your heart were still beating like crazy in your chest, thudding through your ears as you took in his words, trying to calm your breathing, feeling concerned at the bleeding wounds from Vhagar's claws on (Y/D/N)'s side from when she grabbed onto him to throw him to escape his jaws on her. There were scars on Vhagar you felt guilty about too that had to be caused to get them away from Luke and Arrax but it was necessary.

You wanted to scold him more but only opted to rub at your soaked temple, willing your mind to just be calm, half understanding where Aemond is coming from but still dissapointed, mostly in the lack of guidance he had from his parents for he doesn't know that dragons can't be controlled as freely as he thought and that they aren't slaves and that they'll still lash out if they so desire. You admired Viserys when he was still alive because he was Rhaenyra's father and Daemon's brother but he could have made more effort with his children he had with Alicent.

"Just go home Aemond, you got lucky this time because if anything have happened to Luke I swear to the old gods and new gods you'd have had Daemon, Rhaenyra and me coming after you." You finally said after a few moments, pushing the hair sticking to your face from the rain still pelting on you both, grimacing at how heavy your limbs felt to even move anymore at this point.

Aemond looked as if he wanted to say something more for a moment but chose to remain silent, before setting Vhagar back into motion in the other direction, glancing back at you briefly before you too set (Y/D/N) into motion to find Luke again after seeing Aemond and Vhagar dissapear further into the storm.

Luke made Arrax glide through the air slowly, circling two times while his eyes scanned the clouds beneath frantically, the coil in his stomach tightening when he saw no sign of any movement that could be you, contemplating if he should leave or dive back into the storm to try and see if he could find any sight of you, wondering how he was gonna break the news to his mother and father if you are dead or hurt.

They wouldn't take this well at all that was for certain. He himself was beginning to the tear up when the adrenaline wore down, the situation finally settling in as he wiped furiously at the tears forming in his eyes, hearing Arrax croon slightly below when sensing the heartbreak of his young ride through their bond.

It was a few moments longer when they heard flapping of wings again, immediately alert and tense as Luke scanned below them, scared of it being Aemond and Vhagar, ready to finish them off too but the two calmed slightly when hearing the familiar rumble of (Y/D/N) before the two of you broke through the clouds, gliding up next to them.

"You're alive!" Lucerys yelled happily, a tired but gleeful smile on his face when seeing the two of you, eyes lingering on the blood and wounds on (Y/D/N)'s side as you shot him a just as exhausted but comforting smile, both of you looking worse for wear after the intensity of the situation.

"Of course kid. I'm too hard to get rid of that easily much like Daemon." You shrugged playfully, laughing softly when Luke laughed, humming in agreement to your words, while the two of you set back home, trying your best to take deep breaths to calm your raging heart that was still beating like the wings of a hummingbird in your chest, trying process everything that just happened in this short time. How did a simple trip not that far away from home turn into this?

"I won't disagree with that."

You were grateful you went along with Lucerys on the trip to Storm's End to try and get Lord Borros Baratheon to support Rhaenyra when you saw how nervous the child were despite trying his best to mask it for his mother's sake. If you weren't here to have helped you grimace thinking of what could have happened.

It was quite for a few moments with you keeping a close eye on Luke and Arrax and occasionally patting at your dragon's neck in comfort and gratitude while worried about his wounds, hearing him crooning lowly in response to ease your worries.

"What happend back there?" Luke decided to ask, glancing your way curiously, eyes full of questions and curiosity.

Shrugging slightly you swiped the sticky hair from your face again, eyes trained foward in the sky before giving him attention.

"We've managed to get Vhagar to back down. She didn't take to that too kindly as you can see with the wounds. They are both okay and left after Aemond got her back in control." You explained, exhaustion heavily in your voice.

Lucerys gave you a shy smile after another few moments passed.

"Thank you for helping us back there. That was really brave of you for risking your life to do that."

You returned the smile, waving him off while looking out into the skies, feeling calmer and happier when seeing the familiar place you call home finally appearing in your sight.

"Luke, it was nothing big. You know very well I won't let anything hurt you nor your siblings and mother and father either and won't hesitate doing whatever it takes to keep you all safe. And the real brave one here is really you and Arrax. You'll make a mighty fine Lord of Driftmark one day." You told him sincerely, smiling at the child as he tried to hide his embarrassment at your words, urging (Y/D/N) to go faster when Arrax picked up speed towards Dragonstone with an excited screech, just as eager as all of you to get home to your lovers, eat and melt into their arms and rest.

Soon enough you landed next to Arrax and Luke after the people scattered out of the way with murmurs and awe, sliding off of (Y/D/N)'s back, gently patting his side as he nudged your side before Luke ran up to you and throw himself against you in a tight hug, nearly sending the two of you stumbling to the hard ground but you returned the hug, gently ruffling his already messy hair after wrapping an arm around his smaller form until you heard the sounds of people's murmurs again, and looked up to see the various people of Dragonstone and royal guards watching you all curiously, some greeting you both before two dragon keepers rushed over to take the reigns of your dragons to tend to (Y/D/N) wounds and let the two dragons get rest after proper care.

You looked up in the sky when a shadow casted over the ground, seeing Daemon's dragon Caraxes flying about in the cloudy sky, and spotting Syrax resting on the grassy field in the distance, her yellow scales shimmering under the few sun rays peeking through the clouds causing a small smile to tug at your lips at seeing your lovers dragons so peaceful despite still being worried about (Y/D/N) wounds.

You followed behind Lucerys as he began walking to the towering keep tiredly, body sore, fighting the urge to close your eyes, your whole body felt so heavy and exhausted and you just wanted to sink into a warm bath and just get in bed and fall asleep in your lovers arms.

"I'm so sleeping four days straight. Jace and father can forget about training for the next few days." You lowly hummed in agreement as the guards pushed open the heavy doors, letting you and Luke through as you nodded your head in gratitude at them, running a hand through your hair, huffing at the tangled mess it was from the rain and bizzare events from earlier. Storm's End definitely lived up to it's name.

"Agreed kid. Not even Balerion himself would be able to drag me out of bed."

You spotted one of the guard standing at his post, deciding to ask him where Rheanyra and Daemon is.

"My lady. Price Lucerys, welcome back. Queen Rhaenyra is in the meeting room." He said and you give a smile in thanks to him before walking to the room with Luke following behind, fingers trailing the rough stone walls of the dark building.

You soon reached the meeting room where Rhaenyra, one of your beloved's is, seeing her talking with a few council members, all the talking halting as soon as your arrived and one of the door guards announced your arrival, all eyes on you making you feel a little uncomfortable but keeping your head high as your eyes met with her dazzling voilet eyes, resisting the urge to just rush over to her and embrace her tightly and just melt into her comforting arms.

She could immediately sense the exhaustion from you and her son, and that something bad must have happend as if your rough and tattered appearanced weren't a dead give away, she quickly dismissed the council and guards before hastily making her way towards you when you relaxed, guard slipping down the moment her soft comforting hand cupped your cheek and her familiar .eyes scanned your face before landing on Lucerys, questions and concern swirling behind her eyes at the appearance you both were in.

"What happend?" The question made you feel tired all over again as the memories replayed through your head like a mantra, your lips pulling into a tight lipped smile, blinking a few times to clear your head, mentally preparing yourself.

"The pirate-eyed Targaryen and his demented bald granny dragon happend." You could hear Luke trying to keep his snort in from your name for Aemond and his dragon, biting his lip to try and contain his smile as he nudged into your as Rhaenyra looked confused for a moment before realization hit her at who you meant, face paling despite wanting to smile lightly at the words that left your mouth, eyes more alert while scanning the two of you, relaxing when your hand brushed against her swollen stomach, her hand landing on top of yours as you made eye contact again, giving her a assuring smile despite your heart raising as the memory flashed vividly through your mind.

"That's quite a story but yeah, Aemond was there before us, already having gotten the Baratheon's on their side. He saw Lucerys and just lost his mind, wanting to take out his eye as pay back for his and by the time a raging storm have started, we were leaving but Aemond chased after Luke even when he ran to his dragon despite the guards trying to stop him when I told Luke to run." You could feel the anger from Rhaenyra as she worriedly grabbed his hand with her free hand as he stood closer to your side but she could sense there were more to the story.

"And this ended up getting worse because Aemond was dead set on getting to Luke, he chased behind him and Arrax in the raging storm, I felt so terrified of anything bad happening and I got on (Y/D/N) and followed behind them to try get their attention away from them. He kept taunting Lucerys and Vhagar tried a few times to bite at them and she nearly did when Aemond lost control over her when Arrax shot a fireball at her when feeling threatened." The more you spoke the more you could see Rhaenyra getting worried and angry, pulling the child into her side protectively, her fingers running through his hair as he hugged her, being careful over her pregnant stomach while you intertwined your hand with her other one this time, bringing it your mouth and kissing it gently, letting your lips linger on the soft skin, knowing this helps her calm down.

Stressing weren't good for the baby and you were determined to keep her calm despite the grim reality of the story you have to tell her.

"Mother, she and (Y/D/N) managed to dive in on time to stop anything bad from happening but (Y/D/N) got hurt by Vhagar and I was so scared when I didn't see them for awhile but we're all safe now! They were really brave." Lucerys spoke up admiration making you chuckle as she smiled gently at your son.

"Is that so? I don't doubt that because they both have always been brave." She moved her hand to his cheek fondly as he nodded eagerly.

"My love the real brave one was all Lucerys and Arrax." You spoke with smile, patting him on the shoulder before ruffling his hair causing you and his mother to laugh he huffed in embarrassment from your words, trying to play it cool as he tried fixing his unruly hair, failing miserably and only making it look worse.

After the laughing died down she pulled both of you into a group hug, holding onto both of you tightly when a tear slipped from her eye, feeling beyond relieved that the two of you got home safely but still feeling the underlying madness at Aemond's pettiness and how he could have gotten either one or both of you killed.

You happily melted into her warm hug, face nuzzling into her platinum locks while you felt her comforting scent wash over you, grounding you and serving as a solid reminder that you're both home and safe where you all belonged.

Daemon would certainly handle this news way worse with his short temper but it's a good thing you and her are there to stop him from doing something bad. He would no doubt jump on Caraxes and burn down King's Landing if given reason enough.

Reluctantly pulling away from the hug, Rhaenyra kissed your cheek gently before turning to Luke.

"Ask the maids to prepare a bath for you and get dressed in comfortable clothes then come down for a meal, the cooks have been preparing your favorite." You watched the interaction with a fond smile, heart melting at the two as he lightened up at her words before rushing out of the room and down the halls after closing the doors.

You walked over to her, hugging her from behind while your hands landed on her stomach, rubbing softly as she leant back against you, a content smile when you planted kisses against her neck then cheek, resting your head on her shoulder and just gently swinging her from side to side, closing your eyes and taking in her scent when her hand landed on the back of your head and the other one on top of yours, squeezing gently.

"Thank you so much for keeping Lucerys safe even if you risked your own life." You heard her murmur, hearing the way her voice caught in her throat as tears threatened to spill but you hummed in a comforting way, hugging her tighter.

"My love, there is no need to thank me for that. I'd do it again in a heartbeat to keep you, our sons and big family safe and would gladly give up my own life if I have to to ensure your all safe and protected." You told her with emotion bleeding through every word, feeling at ease when she gently squeezed your arm.

"Nyke gīmigon ñuha sīmontan. Nyke'll gaomagon keskydoso syt jemome tolī." (I know my rose. I'll do the same for all of you too) You melted at her endearing name for you and her words and how her voice have that calming effect on you when speaking in high Valyrian. You could just drift off on her like this if you could and stay in this moment forever.

"Where is Daemon? I saw Caraxes earlier when we got here but no sign of him when entering the keep." You questioned softly, your head still on her shoulder and lips grazing her cheek in a soft kiss as she hummed with a grin, leaning her head to connect her lips with yours once again in a slow but gentle kiss that lasted a few seconds.

"He's probably still outside with the royal blacksmith. He said he wanted to get something made for little Visenya for when she's born." You softly made a sound of acknowledgement, remembering when he asked you on some advice between choosing what to have made for the baby.

The two of you stayed that way for a few moments longer before she pulled away, gently grabbing both your hands and leaning in to kiss you yet again, smiling into the kiss and causing you to tiredly grin when meeting with her voilet eyes, sparks flaring between your gaze after pulling away from the kiss.

"You're beauty never fail to amaze me." You mumbled with a dreamy voice making her cheeks turn slightly red while she laughed shyly, the sound making your grin grow even bigger by the moment.

"Come my beloved, let's go get a bath prepared for you and then join Lucerys, Joffrey, Baela and Rhaena for a meal then get rest. I'll let one of the guard's call for Daemon and fetch Viserys and Aegon. They've all been eager to see you again." She pulled you to the doors and towards your shared room as you nodded, allowing her to pull you along as her hand gripped yours like her life depended on it, too scared to let go for even a moment and eager to spend time with you, Daemon and the kids and already plotting on how to make Aemond wish he weren't born. She can only silently pray that Jace returns safely too.

#rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rheanyra targaryen #house of the dragon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #hotd x reader #rhaenyra targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #daemyra x reader

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sydsaint · 1 year ago

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Not afraid to admit I'm in love with his problematic ass <3

Summary: The reader wins the women rumble only to be teased by Punk. So when he loses his rumble she can't pass up the opportunity to get some revenge.

The crowd in the arena is deafeningly loud as they all scream and cheer around you. It's been over an hour since you came out in the women's rumble match as number 3, and somehow you're still here. Every inch of your body is drenched in sweat and everything aches. But you aren't done yet.

Four women remain in the match, including you. Becky Lynch, Bayley, and Liv Morgan are all much fresher than you are. But none of them have the unbridled passion and desire to win like you do.

"Sorry, Becky." You grab ahold of Becky's leg and dump her over the ropes after faking a temporary alliance with her.

Becky tumbles to the floor and it's down to three. Liv and Bayley start going at it in one of the corners of the ring and you see your opening. You rush to the corner and shove Bayley into the turnbuckle. Bayley hits Liv who has been teetering on the apron and Liv sails down to the floor.

One left.

You waste no time and grab Bayley's waist. She struggles against your grip, but your raw strength is too much for her. You muster all the strength you have left haul Bayley over your head and drop her. She tumbles over the top rope and hits the ground with a loud thud.

You did it. You won.

The bell rings and your exhaustion gets the better of you. You sink to your knees breathing heavily as one of the referee's on the outside heads in to raise your hand.

About 15 minutes later you head backstage with a giddy smile on your face. You've got Rhea at Wrestlemania this year. And you aren't going to squander this opportunity. Nothing can ruin this moment.

"Well well well, don't you look nice." A familiar voice greets you on the other side of the curtain and your smile fades.

"Fuck you, Phillip." You come face to face with CM Punk. You sneer at the shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he blocks your path. "Move out of the way you entitled dickhead." You spit at him.

"And miss the chance to congratulate you on your big win, YN?" Punk replies cooly.

You stand your ground and stare at him, despite the fact that every fiber of your being is sore and exhausted. But Punk has a way of lighting a fire in you. In more ways than one, unfortunately.

"Good luck out there tonight, Punk. I sincerely hope that Cody kicks your ass and dumps you over the top rope." You flash a fake smile at him before shouldering past him.

"You know you love me, sweetheart!" Punk calls after you as you walk off.

You head back to the locker room and get a good shower in. The hot water eases the fatigue and ache in your body and you feel much better after. Since you're feeling better you head backstage again so you can watch the men's rumble match unfold.

When you arrive backstage the match is up to number 20. You watch Bron Breakker come out and dominate the field. You and Bron used to hang out in NXT before you got called up. You smile to yourself as the match drags on and Bron picks up some eliminations for himself and makes plans to talk to him after the show to catch up.

"Oh god. They gave him lucky number 27?" You scoff when it's Punk's turn to head out.

You roll your eyes at his confidence and bravado, ignoring that voice in the back of your mind that finds him so damn hot when he's acting all high and mighty. The match drags on for another twenty minutes until it's just Punk and Cody left.

"Yes! Get his ass, Cody!" You cheer when Rhodes tosses Punk out of the ring. "Nice! Serves his entitled ass right." You smile to yourself when the bell rings.

The camera pans to Punk sitting on the floor in defeat and a thought pops into your head. 'god he looks so pathetic.' You think to yourself. 'and kind of hot all defeated and on his knees.'

You decide to hang around and rub it in some when Punk comes trudging through the curtain.

"Well well well, don't you look nice?" You mimic Punk's earlier statement with a grin.

Punk picks his head up and meets your gaze. Your smile is the same cocky and self-important one he was wearing earlier in the night. You're doing the same thing he was earlier. Only difference is you're set to main event Wrestlemania in two months with Rhea. And Punk just lost to Cody freaking Rhodes.

"Awe, what's wrong, Phil?" You laugh. "Night didn't go like you planned?"

"Yeah, real mature, sweetheart." Punk grumbles to himself. "Move out of the way." He demands.

You can't help but widen the smile on your face if that's even possible. "What? And miss the chance to rub this loss in your face?" You snicker.

Punk steps up to you but you don't budge. He comes to a stop inches from your face and stares at you. And you stare right back.

"Doesn't feel good, does it, Phillip?" You ask with a grin.

"You're real mature. You know that?" Punk fires back.

You continue to stand your ground and lick your lips. The tension in the air is palpable at this point. "I am almost 20 years younger than your geriatric ass." You remind him.

"Brat." Punk growls at you and finally shoulders past you.

"Awe, what's the matter, Daddy? Can't take the heat?" You laugh as he stomps off. "What happened to all that confidence from earlier? What was it you said? Oh, right! You know you love me, sweetheart!" You continue to call after him until he's out of sight.

Zoey Stark comes around the corner having heard everything and walks over to your side. "You two seriously need to just fuck already." She complains. "Because y'all are getting out of hand backstage."

"Oh, I'm just having some fun, Zoey." You wave your hand dismissively. "Besides, that old man couldn't handle all of this." You gesture to yourself with a grin.

"If you say so." Zoey shrugs. "Oh, well damn. Look at that." She laughs and points across the room.

You glance in the direction Zoey is pointing and find Punk making a B-line across the room toward you. Zoey walks off and you are left alone to confront your annoyingly sexy rival.

"Finally think of a comeback old man?" You ask Punk with a wink.

"You've got a big fucking mouth, you know that?" Punk growls and grabs ahold of your arm. "Luckily for you, I have experience handling girls with too much attitude" He adds, now wearing a smirk that sightly concerns you.

You dig your heels into the carpet in protest to being dragged off. "Now hold on a second!"

"Oh, it's too late to beg, sweetheart. You're coming with me." Punk replies and continues to drag you off.

#wrestling #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe x reader #wrestling fandom #wrestling fanfiction #syd's wrestling fics #cm punk x reader #cm punk #wwe

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twstjam · 2 years ago

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This will be the death of me - Part 1

Characters: Malleus Draconia & Yuu

Ship(s): Planned romantic Malleyuu

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: You've never seen a dragon before—Heck, you thought they were extinct!—but even someone with half a brain cell can put together that it would be smarter to NOT get on one's bad side.

Is it any better to get on a dragon's good side though? That depends... on if you can survive his clinginess.

Or: You end up in a bit of a httyd experience after running into and helping a dragon on your travels.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

Like many other situations in your life, you're not entirely sure how you got into this mess. As inevitable as it might be, it's not like you wanted to be screaming your voice hoarse while looking down the jaws of a man-eating beast.

By pure dumb luck or some form of divine intervention, you'd managed to scramble away right as it snapped its jaws shut, jumped onto your feet, and shot away like a bullet. You didn't turn back—Didn't dare to—but you honestly felt like you had death on your heels. You're familiar enough with the feeling to recognise it, but this time you were positive that it was actually going to catch you this time.

You skidded to a stop—And subsequently fell on your ass—when you suddenly heard a squealing rumble. It got cut off abruptly, followed by the sound of people shouting, chains rattling, and something massive dragging through the dirt. Then, you heard a sound like heavy rocks skidding together and then a loud thump. A pause of silence... and then cheering.

Now you find yourself sitting around a fire with people you don't have a single lick of recognition for. You're surrounded by the laughter and drunken singing of the king's soldiers, being forced to awkwardly rock side to side by the swaying bodies you're squished between.

Maybe you should be celebrating. You did just narrowly escape death after all, but that's nothing new at this point considering your track record and honestly, how can you just gloss over the fact that these people had used you as bait to catch an ancient beast?

After that maddening race for your life, armoured strangers had come out of the bushes and thicket to announce to you that they had just captured that beast that had tried to eat you— a dragon —and to also thank you for wandering into its vicinity and luring it out for them.

They had been there. They had watched as you'd cluelessly treaded on dragon territory and almost became dragon chow.

The chill of fear in your body had heated to anger and you were about to tell them just how exactly you felt about their dragon-hunting tactics when it suddenly hit you—A dragon. This massive, hulking beast… this embodiment of the night… this creature glaring at you with sharp, neon green eyes and bound in massive iron chains… is a dragon .

All your fury had dissipated and were instead replaced by a sense of dread that numbed your body and stiffened your limbs. Chained or no, the burning fury that you saw in this creature's eyes promised revenge. You don't know about the soldiers that had captured it, but as someone who had looked down its gaping jaws of death, you weren't eager to be at the receiving end of its wrath.

After the celebrations around the fire, the soldiers had oh-so kindly invited you to rest in their camp for the night as thanks for your assistance. If you'd wanted to receive such "graciousness" in exchange for such an experience you never would've left home.

The soldiers quickly conk out as soon as they hit their sleeping bags, the rum swiftly taking them under. They'll be feeling that in the morning for sure... and maybe even the sole of your boots, if you're impulsive enough.

You don't fall asleep—You can't, not with the massive black bulk looming over the entire camp and spanning twice its length. You'd overheard the soldiers discussing lookout for the night, but if you were right, whoever is currently on duty (and every other person who's supposed to swap with them) should be too buzzed out of their mind to stay awake.

You slip out of your sleeping bag towards where the dragon is lying (even with its abyssal hide melding with the pitch black of the night, it's hard to miss with the gleam of the chains and just by how BIG it is) and sure enough, the soldier sitting watch is drooling on the spear that they're leaning on.

Chills shudder across your entire body and all of your hairs stand on end as you approach the bound beast. The cold fear intensifies, enveloping your entire body when you see the dragon's gaze on you. Its eyes are a green you've never seen before. It reminds you of fire, even though you've only ever seen orange and blue ones.

Its eyes are slitted. Wary. You take another step closer and its warning growl shakes the ground beneath your feet. You freeze on the spot, but fortunately you still have enough feeling in your body to move and bow your head in submission. Hopefully—Or if your luck plays out—the dragon understands it to be the non-threatening display that it is, or at least doesn't disregard it.

To your relief, the dragon stops growling, and even though it's still glaring at you, you take it as a good sign.

"I'm going to try and free you," you whisper. You slowly reach into your satchel and pull out a massive ring of keys, being mindful to not clink them together and make noise. With how out of their minds with alcohol the soldiers were, it was no special feat to find out who had the keys and snatch them without being spotted. The dragon's eyes zero in on the keys and you see its pupils go slightly rounder.

The dragon doesn't growl, but it still watches you carefully as you get closer—Close enough to touch. You keep the beast in your peripherals as you search for the locks in the chains. You murmur an "A-ha!" you finally find one and get to work slotting in a key.

There's a click , and a rush of triumph fills your chest when the chain comes undone. A lump lodges itself in your throat though when the chain snaps back with a sharp noise. You hold your breath and whirl around to make sure the sound hasn't woken anyone.

No one's moved. The soldiers are as still as the dead. You let out a sigh of relief and go on to find the next lock.

It occurs to you, in the middle of finding the third lock, that this might be a bad idea. Sure, it was already a bad idea to incur the wrath of an ancient beast by binding it like a common animal, but for obvious reasons, it might be a worse idea to release the aforementioned wrathful beast.

"When you're free, you're not gonna eat me, right?" you whisper to the dragon as you unlock the iron collar around its neck. The dragon is quiet. It instead responds by bending its long neck around once you've freed it to look at you. You stumble back, startled, but it doesn't do anything else other than stare you down. There's no hostility in its gaze though, so your heart settles.

"...Is that a yes?" you murmur.

The dragon makes a short snuffing noise but it doesn't sound agitated. It lowers its massive head and you take a step back, but the motion is careful. There's no risk of it knocking you over with its oversized snout and instead you have easy access to the iron clamping its jaws shut.

Why don't you find out? the creature's intelligent, gleaming gaze seems to say.

You take a deep breath, muster every ounce of courage and foolishness in your body, and reach forward with the key.

Your hand accidentally brushes its face. The dragon growls, you curse, and the both of you jerk away from each other.

You try again, more carefully this time. The dragon's big eyes are even more unnerving this close, but you're not deterred. Your conviction has always been either your savior or downfall, and you've never been more anxious to find out which it is this time.

The mechanism in the lock clicks . You grin victoriously at the dragon as it pulls its head back, but it vanishes off your face when the beast tosses its great head and throws the iron muzzle to the ground with a clang that makes you jump.

"Wait—!" you call out too late as startled yells sound out from the soldiers in the camp. The soldier on lookout, the one closest to you and the dragon, jolts awake and their eyes bug out of their head upon seeing the dragon loom over them with its teeth bared.

"Shit!" they yell out. "The beast is—"

The soldier is abruptly cut off by a great black maw closing around them. Screams and yells of terror ring out. The dragon locks its jaws with a sickening crunch before flinging the limp body aside like a ragdoll.

You should be scared. You should be horrified. But instead, you swallow and think, I'm glad that wasn't me .

Sue you, you're still petty about being used as dragon bait.

The soldiers, still dazed from their night of drinking, stumble to their feet, but it's only a matter of time before the adrenaline sobers them up enough to grab their weapons and more chains. You focus back on the task of releasing the dragon—There's only a few more chains left to go!—but it rises up on its chained feet.

"Oh come on!" you exclaim as you impulsively grab onto its leg before it gets too far for you to reach the lock. Your arms are almost pulled out of their sockets as you're jerked along like no more than an annoying piece of paper stuck to a slightly damp foot. "Stay—Stay still!"

You can't see what's going on, but you hear shouts and the dragon bellowing above you. You continue to be flung around on your reptilian joyride as it knocks over soldiers with its powerful tail and snaps more up in its terrifying teeth. The smell of blood in the air thickens, but your attention is solely on the manacles on the dragon's legs.

Despite being jerked around, you manage to successfully free the beast's front legs. You lose your grip and narrowly miss being stepped on when the dragon charges forward to snap up fleeing soldiers. The breath is knocked out of you with how hard you hit the ground and you lie there, groaning.

" YOU! "

You startle at the sharp yell and flip around onto your front to look up at the seething face of a soldier you recognise to be the one that was holding the keys—The captain. Uh oh.

"Uh, hey..." you stammer breathlessly with a sheepish smile.

"What have you done?!" the soldier screeches. You hear the tell tale sound of a sword being dragged out of its sheath and you catch the glint of iron in the soldier's hand. "You'll pay for this!"

You yelp and skitter on the ground in a pathetic attempt to get away as the sword is raised. Right as you think you're about to be run clean through, you're deafened by a loud roar. You catch the captain's eyes widening the split second before black scales suddenly appear in your vision.

You hold your arms over your ears when the dragon above you snarls loud enough above you to possibly burst your eardrums. The temperature all around you rises unbearably. A blood-curdling scream cuts through the air, but still all you can think to do is find the keys on the ground and drag yourself through the dirt to reach the manacles on the dragon's back legs.

As you're unlocking the second manacle, you hear soldiers yelling out battle cries and charging the dragon's rear with weapons and chains drawn. You're about to yell out a warning, but the dragon lifts its tail and easily sweeps it over the approaching attackers, knocking them over like barrels.

The dragon is completely free to move now, but you still hear the clinking of chains as the dragon moves above you. Its wings!

You crawl out from underneath the dragon's belly, stumble to your feet, and immediately come face-to-face with blindingly neon green eyes. The dragon has its neck craned toward you, eyes trained on you instead of the armed soldiers. You're momentarily distracted by the arrows and spears embedded in the beast's black hide before focusing back on the iron chains binding its wings.

The chains clink and clatter metallically as the dragon flexes its wings in alarm at soldiers aiming bows, crossbows, and spears. The beast reacts, moving around wildly. Not wanting to get squished by a rampaging thousand-pound dragon, you do the only thing you feasibly can—You jump onto its back.

Alright. It's not your brightest idea, because the dragon immediately starts trying to shake you off, but you grip onto one of the many ridges on its back and hold on for dear life.

"Stay still! I'm trying to save your fucking life here!" you scream at the top of your lungs. The dragon makes a displeased grumble but it fortunately remembers its priorities and turns its attention towards the people trying to kill the two of you.

You hear spears and bones snapping, wood creaking beneath powerful jaws as the dragon picks up a wagon and smashes it on the soldiers that scatter like ants to get away. As this happens, you're fighting to keep your grip on the dragon's back and unchain its wings. You succeed with one and almost get your arms torn off as the beast immediately lifts it and beats it down in one rough movement that has its back muscles rippling and jostling you.

You hiss at the feeling of its scales scraping your skin raw, but still you hold on. One could say your determination is otherworldly, but you'd say it's just your self-preservation kicking in for once and demanding you don't fucking die.

It would've been more helpful if it had kicked in before you had committed to jumping on a dragon's back, but now wasn't the time to lament on that.

By some miracle, you manage to reach the other wing despite all the pain and unsteadiness with the key in hand. You shove it into the lock with a yell and—

Twist. Click. Clang.

The dragon shakes the chains off its wing as you dig your fingers into its back and try to catch your breath. With the dragon's ridges as handholds, you pull yourself further up the dragon's back in hopes of positioning yourself more securely, but as you do so, shadows fall over you as the beast unfurls its wide, wide wings and slams them down.

The sound that deafens you is like a clap of thunder. You shut your eyes tight when the wind suddenly whips up around you, tugging on your clothes and hair and threatening to drag you off the dragon's back and down to the ground.

Which—You realise, when you crack your eyes open—is a long way down because dear Seven Greats you're flying .

The furious winds continue to get colder and stronger and it's all you can do to not fall off and splatter on the ground like a pancake. You manage to peer down below despite how the height makes your stomach swoop and sees soldiers shouting out and pointing at the dragon lifting up into the sky. They're running around to grab more weapons and chains but you doubt they're going to do the slightest bit of good.

You can't begin to imagine what's going on through their minds right now. You're on the dragon's side and you're still terrified. The beast roars as loudly as the thunder that drums the heavens. The air buzzes against your skin as it charges with electricity. The dragon heaves a deep breath and you swear your entire body erupts with sweat as it unleashes a column of bright green fire on the humans below.

Soldiers scream and dive for cover. Wagons and trees groan and break beneath the force and heat of the dragon's breath. Even though you're fortunate enough to not be caught in the inferno below, the heat is still strong enough from its back to be suffocating.

Lightning flashes, momentarily blinding you with green light, and the crack of thunder that follows it combined with the sound of the dragon's beating wings overwhelms you and you lose your bearings. Your grip slips from the dragon's ridges and you tumble gracelessly from its back.

The wind whips around you, roars in your ears, flaps your clothes wildly before it all abruptly stops. You're not all there, but you're pretty sure that a fall from such a long height is supposed to end with pain and death, not pain and a suffocating pressure around your torso.

Despite your unfocused vision and the strong winds pushing your head down, you manage to tilt your chin up and meet the dragon's gaze. You're once again frozen, but you quickly ease out of it when you recognise the lack of hostility from before. Instead of slitted, its pupils are round and its eyes aren't narrowed in a glare.

The dragon does nothing but stare at you as it continues to hover in the air. For a moment, you wonder if it's trying to decide on whether or not it should uncurl its claws and drop you to your death, but it's clear what it decides on as you're not a pitiful stain on the scorched ground below. Instead of safely putting you down like you expect it to do though, you find yourself pressed against a wall of tough scales.

The beast holds you close to its chest and beats its wings, carrying itself— and you —away from the carnage.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twst yuu #twst x reader #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #malleus x mc #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia x mc #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland au #twst au #matcha writes a bit

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lawomi · 7 months ago

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A Little Vengeance - Trans!Law x GN!Reader

Linktree for Fic REQUESTS Status, Ao3, Wattpad, ext

Fic Masterlist

Requested by @makemake22 💞 ty

After a few rounds of sex with your boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, you were quite sore… and you're convinced you deserved a little vengeance.

Minors DNI

CWs: Smut, Spanking / Paddling, Sex toys

Your eyes were adjusted to the darkness of Law’s quarters, no light filtering in save for a small candle that flickered on his dresser. You were both sprawled out naked on the bed, your panting mingling with the sound of the Tang’s rumbling engine.

Everything hurts, you muse, sighing with satisfaction. To your left, you felt Law shift his weight, pushing himself up on his side. He reaches out and takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb affectionately between your fingers.

“Hey, babe, my ass hurts,” you remark to him without looking at him, making him laugh. You lift his hand to your face and play with it, examining the now pink skin on his palms.

“Yeah? I made sure it would,” he grinned his usual sadistic grin, hoping you’d look. You did, then roll your eyes. “It was what you wanted,” he points out, smile faltering ever so slightly. “Can’t ask me to play sadist and then expect me to half ass it,” he joked.

“Y’know…” you turn towards him, then push yourself up onto your butt and wince, leaning back against the headboard. “I think… I want some revenge,” you said, looking into his curious, concerned gold ring eyes.

At first, it took him a moment. He stared, eyes widening slightly, then a blush dusted his cheeks. “Oh,” he pouted and averted his eyes.

“What?” You pat his shoulder, “C’mere.”

Reluctantly, he got up on his knees and shuffled over. He half hugged you, pressing his forehead against yours with a big grimace plastered on his face. You laugh, falling into a fit of giggles.

“What the hell!” You cup his face, giving him a kiss. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Lie across my lap, stupid.”

“I don’t want to,” his voice cracked slightly.

“That’s not one of our safewords,” it was your turn to grin wickedly, looking a bit like the Cheshire cat. He flinches, lips curling into a shy smirk, but he avoids your gaze.

“…F-fine,” he said finally. Awkwardly, he straddles your hips. His long torso was too tempting, as usual, so you run your hands down either side, causing him to shiver from the sudden contact. Both hands squeeze his hips, appreciating the soft give, then one hand travels down quickly and cups his sex, making his cheeks and ears burn pinker, he was already excessively wet.

“You freak,” you tease, “Wow. All that acting and you’re already excited,” you watch him shutter as your fingers run along his slit, pinching and pulling his labia.

He rolled his eyes, pouting profusely. “Whatever…” Your unoccupied hand slips down to caress his thigh, then up to his ass, pulled back and gave him a test slap. It wasn’t strong, but it made him jump. “Tsk, wait a sec,” he snaps.

“You’re taking too long, you big baby!” You scolded. “You like dishing out the pain but won’t take it back?”

He scoffed, “I can take pain plenty well, I’m a fucking pirate. The Surgeon of Death, actually. Have you seen my bounty—”

“That’s it,” you grab his arm and pull him down towards the bed. He obliged, considering he was too strong to be manhandled by you. “Hah,” you smile as he adjusts himself to lie across your lap, “You like playing brat, huh Dr. Death?”

He rested his cheek in his left hand, huffing shakily. He runs his right hand through his messy hair, “I-I just… don’t like being bossed around. I chose to lie here,” he turns his head to glance back at you, you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. You immediately erase it when you slap his left ass cheek with a loud Clap! making him lurch forward. “Tsk,” he hissed, “That one felt personal.”

“You better shut up,” you stifle a laugh, “I doubt my hands hurt you!” You pull back and slap his ass cheek again in the same spot, making him grumble and shift. Your left hand slides along the small of his back, reaching his Jolly Roger tattoo, and push down slightly to indicate he stay still. Yet another slight protest leaves his throat, but he does what you ask.

Again he hisses when your hand comes down on the same spot, then rubs the reddening skin and moves on to squeeze his other cheek. Your hand then runs down to pat his thigh, slapping the sensitive skin there, too. “Ah,” his jaw slacked just a moment, then he winced, gritting his teeth, when you hit him where you started.

“That’s it,” you purr, “The more I hit you in the one spot, the easier. Maybe I should bring a paddle out, if my hands aren’t heavy enough,” you half say to yourself. “Well, technically I’ll make you summon one…” Again, a Clap! This time he cursed under his breath. He shifts to cover his face in both hands, mumbling something you can’t make out. You could feel his slick begin to wet your thigh, his hard clit grinding ever so slightly against you with each hit.

Exchanging hands, you continue smacking the hot skin, then kneed it, a lovely groan rumbled in his chest. Your right hand's fingers ghost along his inner thigh, making his muscles tense. You run three fingers along his slit, teasing his dick between two. He shutters, sighing dreamily and spreading his legs ever so slightly. You slap him in response, forcing a whine, then a loud moan when your fingers penetrate him. With three fingers inserted deep, the distinct wetness resounding, you begin to rub his g-spot. “Ahh,” he keened, your name falling from his lips.

“Law, get me the paddle, please,” you command casually, leaning with wet fingers to grab a tissue from the night stand. The second your fingers left him he complained, craning his neck to check what you were doing. You wiped them off.

Hesitating a moment—he doesn’t like to seem too eager—he finally lifted his left hand. “Room,” the blue light extends, then in an instant the tissue you were holding was replaced with a paddle sporting a large heart, with smaller ones along the edges.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly, bringing down the paddle harshly on his sore left cheek. Law sprung forward, pulling in a strained, surprised gasp. Fuck, you heard him whisper. You chortle, satisfied at how fast the Room ability vanished, too, like flicking a light switch.

You massage the cheek again, his hissing music to your ears, observing as lighter heart shaped marks began to appear. “Aw, that’s not as puffy as it could be,” you remark. Before he could respond, you bring the paddle down with a Slap! against his untouched cheek. Strained cries left his throat as he shifted slightly to rut against your thigh. You didn’t complain, touching the much brighter heart marks, emphasized by the flushing patch of skin. It was a much darker red than your hand could cause. In fact, you could see some blood vessels burst, leaving a nice purple hue. So, you do it again, tears begin stinging Law’s eyes.

“Good boy,” you praise, using the paddle against his back thigh just to surprise him. He kicks his legs back and forth in an automatic pain easing response. He finally covers his face from embarrassment by shoving it against the mattress. You reach over and tangle your fingers in his hair, then finally begin spanking him over and over.

Law keened and whined into the mattress, his hands squeezing the sheets. Again and again you hit him, occasionally switching cheeks, then hitting his thighs to let his ass rest a little. You pet the burning skin gently, affectionately, the heat radiating against your palms pleasant to the touch. Once you decided he was marked enough from ass to calf, you finally stop. You reach over and grab some cooling lotion, then began spreading it roughly. He whines weakly, both of his own hands entangled in his hair. You let him be, although you did want to see his pretty face, messy face.

Reaching one last time into the drawer next to you, you pull out a medium sized dildo he kept there. Without speaking a word, you shove it as deep as you could into his fluttering, weeping cunt. He muffled a scream in delight. The sound goes on longer as you begin to pump the dildo. It didn’t take too long for the tight coil in his core to come undone, his fists turning white, his body shaking slightly. He lifts his head up off the sheets in response to the pushing sensation, his desperate moans filled your ears as he squirt cum unceremoniously over your thighs. You leave the dildo inside him, occasionally giving it a smack on the blunt silicone bottom to make him tighten and groan.

“There we go,” you hum, continuing to administer the lotion into his stringing skin. He sighed contently, having relaxed his hands and letting his head rest facing away from you. He was too prideful to show you his fucked out, tear stained face. “Was my vengeance too harsh?” You coo, grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Anything you can do I can do better,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating through both of you.

“That sounds like a threat.”

“You’ll find out,” his tone, lace with amusement, was quickly cut off by a pained yelp as you hit him with the paddle one final time. The room soon fell into mutual laughter.

#a little bit challenging? sorta. it's always a little tough to write smut and not repeat words over n over lol #one piece #trans trafalgar law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x oc #trafalgar law x reader #law fanfic #law fanfiction #one piece law #trafalgar d water law #heart pirates #my fanfics #makemake22

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poison-into-positivity · 1 year ago

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When Stede wakes, it's on a dirty floor. He's wearing the same outfit he's been wearing for lord knows how long, and he's desperately in need of bathing. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat — the summer humidity has been brutal the past few days, even with the gentle sea breeze. It doesn't help, either, that Ed's long limbs always end up sprawled all over Stede, and while Stede would never be ungrateful for Ed's company, he could do without the extra body heat.

Stede gently frees himself from Ed's embrace, taking care not to wake him, and rises to his feet. Ed doesn't stir. A part of Stede aches at the fact that Ed is so used to living in these conditions, and he laments the fact that he is unable to provide him with something better, something worthy of him. Oh, well. The time for that will come, Stede thinks with a quiet sigh.

A few days have passed since The New Revenge sailed away from the little island where Stede and Ed have taken up residence. During his time at Jackie's, Stede had grown somewhat accustomed to less than ideal living quarters, but living in this ramshackle abode that Ed refuses to call anything but an "inn" and hunting for all their own food has been... challenging. The only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that Ed is here with him.

Stede decides that he'll go for a quick swim before Ed wakes up, and from there they'll decide where to hunt for breakfast. Or, perhaps one of the nearby store merchants will take pity on them and give them some food for free. Stede finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he hadn't renounced all his wealth, or convinced Ed to give away all his treasure. His belly rumbles, hollow with hunger. He ignores it.

He walks sluggishly to the wooden door of the inn and opens it, and he's greeted with the quiet light of daybreak and a slight breeze from the calm sea. He takes a deep breath, savoring the salty sea air and trying to expel the smell of rotting wood from his nostrils.

As he surveys the expanse of the ocean, he sees a ship on the horizon, with large imposing sails and a black flag on the mast. It looks almost like... Stede squints his eyes, and— yes, it is the Revenge! Stede's heart leaps. Have they missed the cunning guidance of their captain already? Are they back for another adventure? He smiles at the thought.

A loud snore from Ed brings Stede back to the present, and Stede instantly feels guilty for even entertaining the thought. As much as he loves the adventure and being at sea, he loves Ed more, and he can't ask Ed to go back to that life. No, he'll just have to tell the crew thanks, but no thanks. He's all in on being an innkeeper. Or a shack-keeper.

As Stede continues to watch the Revenge navigate the calm waters, he can't help but notice that it seems like it's getting smaller. He watches for a few more moments before confirming that yes, it's definitely sailing away. But why?

Stede steps out onto the porch of the inn and he nearly trips on something that has been placed just outside the front door. A large chest has been left on the doorstep, and on it is a note written in Lucius's neat handwriting.

To get you started.

Stede's heart swells as he opens up the chest, and he smiles when he sees what's inside. Apart from a considerable amount of gold and priceless antiques that the crew no doubt plundered from some unsuspecting vessel, a handful of other treasures occupy the box as well. Stede sits down on the porch and looks over each item with care, and by the time he's gone through everything his cheeks are damp with grateful tears. He's conscious of a stirring behind him, and he wipes his eyes, slightly embarrassed even though he knows Ed is the last person who would make fun of him.

"Mornin'," Ed says from the doorway, and Stede turns to smile at him. He'll never get used to this, seeing Ed with sleep-tousled hair and hearing his gruff morning voice. He nods toward the chest. "What's that?"

"The crew stopped by this morning when we were sleeping and left us some gifts. Come take a look," Stede says, and Ed joins him on the porch and sits down next to him.

Stede first pulls out the food, his mouth watering just looking at it: a jar of marmalade, a handful of oranges, and six sandwiches, wrapped with care, no doubt, by Roach. Ed takes one of the sandwiches, and wastes no time in unwrapping it and taking a bite. He makes a lewd noise as he tastes it. "That's a damn good sandwich," he says through a mouthful of peanut paste and some kind of fruit jam.

Stede sets one of the remaining sandwiches aside to enjoy later, and then pulls out the next item: a large knitted blanket, which Stede recognizes instantly as Wee John's handiwork. It won't do them much good now, but when summer turns into fall and the nights get colder, Stede is certain he'll be grateful for the extra warmth.

There's a small throwing knife which Stede figures is a gift from Jim, and the words "hidalgo pirata" have been carved into the handle.

There's a whittled... something in there too, which Stede presumes was made by Black Pete. It looks kind of like a person, but Pete was never all that great at whittling, so Stede isn't entirely sure. He wonders if it's meant to be the wooden boy from the story the crew loved so much. He caresses its face absentmindedly.

A fishing rod, presumably from Fang, is also in the chest, and a necklace with a shark tooth on it has been tied around the handle.

A teal earring, which Stede has seen Oluwande wear before, has also been gifted to them.

Even Zheng and Auntie seemingly contributed: Stede pulls out a few jars of sweet-smelling tea leaves, and a few soft towels.

The final two things, though, are the ones that brought tears to Stede's eyes. "Look at this," he says to Ed, who has unwrapped a second sandwich and is devouring that, too.

Stede pulls out a black flag, and unfolds it to reveal a motif of two merpeople, one holding a spear and the other, upside down, holding a red heart. Their free hands hold each other. Intertwined, Stede thinks, and smiles, imagining Frenchie mulling over this project just for them.

The final item in the chest is a sketch, drawn by Lucius: a group portrait of everyone on the crew, including Izzy and Ivan, standing side by side, triumphantly. A family. Stede knows instantly that this will be the first and most treasured piece of decor to grace their inn.

"They put all this together just for us?" Ed asks, surprised and touched.

"Yeah," Stede says, unable to look away from the family portrait. His eyes fall to three words that Lucius has written under the sketch, and his heart swells.

Revenge Lives On.

#these kids are gonna be okay #ofmd fic #ofmd fanfic #ofmd #our flag means death #fic #mine #stede bonnet #edward teach #ofmd spoilers

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late-to-the-party-81 · 7 months ago

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Love, Lies & Electricity

AN: Hi all - here is my entry for week 5 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer. This time it’s a Bucky x Reader fic. Thanks to all who voted in my poll a few weeks ago to decide who this reader should be.

Additional thanks and kisses to @drabbles-mc for beta-ing this.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, click here.

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Likes are loved, Reblogs are golden.

Master List | HBS Master List

Challenges and Bingos: HBS week 5 - We’re Exes

Summary: After Bucky Barnes broke your heart several months ago you never wanted to see him again. However, when he turns up and asks you to help him, Sam and Torres bring down a HYDRA base you can’t refuse as it will mean a chance to get payback on those who hurt you worse than he did.

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

CW: Angst, Revenge, Sexual Content

There was a reason why you’d taken solace on the rooftop of an abandoned building in DUMBO - you wanted to be alone. You’d hoped that the omnipresent drizzle would have deterred most of those who might wish to contact you, even if they did manage to work out where you were. Despite this, you weren’t surprised in the least when Bucky appeared.

Even with your back to him and your gaze unwaveringly fixated on the view before you, you knew he was there. He had an energy about him - probably something to do with the circuitry to his arm - that you’d found easy to pick up on when you’d first met him, let alone after you’d become attuned to it.

“I told you not to bother me ever again, Barnes,” you stated in a flat tone, still avoiding looking at him.

There was a moment of silence, probably so he could consider his response, although you’d be surprised if he wasn’t expecting this type of reception.

“I know,” he acknowledged, “but I - we - need you.”

Your lips twitched wryly. You should have known he wouldn’t be here of his own accord. You hadn’t had any contact from him since that day three months ago when you’d screamed and shouted and… he’d just stood there. Accepting your vitriol before turning and walking out of your life. The wound still felt raw.

When you’d first met him, you’d fallen hard and fast. Bucky just seemed to get you - understand you like no-one else, and you thought that you’d known him too. The nights you’d spent together, just holding each other and talking about what you’d gone through in your lives - finding comfort and companionship that transcended the physical connection that you had. However, like every other good thing in your life, it had come crashing down around your ears, but unlike other times, you hadn’t seen it - the hurt and the betrayal - coming.

Bucky hadn’t gotten involved with you because of who you were - he’d approached you because of what you could do - what you could bring to a new team of Avengers. Someone else who saw your value in connection to your freakish abilities. He breached your walls, then shattered them from the inside. You were still rebuilding them.

“What’s the job?” you queried, knowing that if you dismissed him out of hand he’d probably just push harder and you’d end up screaming at him.

“There’s a pocket of Hydra holdouts in a bunker in Massachusetts,” he rumbled and you closed your eyes, trying to control your physical reaction to his presence. “We can’t find a way in, and need the element of surprise. You’ve got the skills we need.”

You snorted. Of course it was all about your powers.

“Who’s asking? The White Wolf or Bucky Barnes?” You couldn’t keep the sneer from your voice.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t rise to it, instead asking, “Would it make a difference?”

A loud sigh left your throat. “I suppose you’re right. You knew I was in from the word ‘HYDRA’.”

You pushed yourself up from the roof ledge and finally turned to face him. The rain had plastered his dark brown hair to his face, making it look black. Droplets of water ran down the divot in his chin, before dripping off the end. Why did he have to be so beautiful? If you were that sodden you’d just look like a drowned rat, so you gave a quick thanks to the small electrical field you’d generated around you that stopped the rain from making contact.

“Let’s get this over with then.” Your voice - and heart - was already weary. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can get back to never seeing you again.”

Bucky didn’t answer, instead just giving you a look you couldn’t interpret before turning and walking towards the stairwell. You followed in his wake.

The journey upstate to the compound hadn’t been too arduous. Both you and Bucky had ridden your bikes, which had the dual advantage of making it easy to slip through the traffic and also negated the need for small talk. You hadn’t actually said a word to him since leaving the rooftop and you were totally fine with that.

You’d greeted Sam with a clipped ‘Hello’ and just stared through Torres when he’d shyly raised a hand in your direction. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, you just didn’t know them.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Bucky had let out a small cough and suggested that you all go through to the briefing room and you’d nodded your assent. Now the four of you were gathered around the holographic blueprints.

“Our main issues,” said Sam, “are these gun turrets.” He pointed out the towers at each corner of the building. “Our intel says they are energy-based, which means if they can get disabled from inside the three of us should be able to get in easier.”

“That’s what we’re hoping you can do,” added Torres, his eyes still refusing to meet yours. It almost made you smile. Almost.

Sam continued. “Once we’re in, we aren’t expecting you to hang around. We know you aren’t a big fan of working with us.”

That was an understatement if ever you’d heard one, but there were bigger motivational factors involved. “You really think I’m gonna turn tail and not take the opportunity to get some payback?” you asked with a raised brow. “You don’t know me at all, Sam.”

A look of sympathy immediately took over his face. “I understand why you feel this way, but this isn’t what this mission is about. We need to shut them down and extract all the data.”

You frowned. You don’t know why you expected a different response from the new Captain America. “But you know that if we don’t stop them - neutralise every single one of them - then they’ll just regroup. Reform. We’ll - You’ll - be no better off than you were before and you’ll just have to hunt them down again another day.” The words came out sharply as your frustration grew.

“We’re not going there with the express intent of murdering people.” Sam bit back. “I’m a realist - I understand that there will be deaths - but I’m not going out of my way to create the highest body count possible.”

There was a moment of silence before you said, “You’re a bleeding heart, Wilson. No mercy should be shown to HYDRA because they sure as hell won’t show you any.”

You turned on your heel and stalked from the room, walking along the corridor until you reached one of the glass walls that allowed you to look out over the forest surrounding the semi-secret base. You weren’t even there a minute before you felt a prickle up your spine. Your hands, that had been resting on your ribs where your arms were crossed, curled into fists.

“Fuck off, Barnes,” you ground out between gritted teeth. He moved to stand beside you, leaning on the railing, and you could see him out of your peripheral vision.

“He’s a good man, you know. It’s why Steve gave him the shield and not me. He knew that for the mantle of Captain America you have to have some level of optimism.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. “But it just seems so pointless.”

“You know I get it. We have a different outlook, you and I. As much as Sam can empathise with what we went through, try his best to understand, he will never get it. Much the same way that I can’t ever fully understand what it was like for him, being who he is, to grow up in this America. We just have to stick to our truths, and bend once in a while when it’s prudent to do so.” He turned towards you then, flashing a wry grin and you couldn’t help but turn your head as well. “And besides, what Wilson doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Bucky pushed away from the railing and started to walk back towards the conference room. Part way along he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “You coming? We’ve got some HYDRA ass to kick. And by kick, I mean shoot in the head.”

Large hands spanned your waist, gripping firmly but not cruelly. Your legs were hooked over the arms connected to them, holding you wide open. Your eyes, only open a crack, could see the way his dark hair flopped down in front of his face, could see the way his body glistened with sweat as he pumped in and out of you. His muscles strained and his jaw was set.

“Fuck, honey,” Bucky exclaimed. “Feels so fucking good.” Your only reply was a whine as you dropped a hand down between you to strum at your clit.

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself feel good. Wanna feel you come.” If you’d been capable of giggling at his statement you would have, because you’d come twice already - once on his face and once on his fingers. The man was insatiable for your pleasure. You weren’t gonna complain about it.

“Bucky!” you breathed out, not sure what you were actually trying to say, but hoping he could pick up on the tone. The air crackled, its molecules excited by your semi-conscious manipulation of the electric field around you. You could feel yourself rushing towards that peak, your core clenching - pulsing - around where Bucky was filling you with each delicious thrust.

He dropped his head, taking one of your pebbled nipples in his mouth and sucked on it. The sensation pulled tightly on the invisible thread that ran through your body to where the pair of you were joined. Tighter. Firmer. Higher…

You woke with a start, sitting bolt upright as you gulped in lungful after lungful of air. Your hands shook and your skin was sweaty and you silently cursed Bucky Barnes as you flopped back down and pressed one of the pillows over your face. You hadn’t had a sex dream about him in weeks, but it stood to reason that as he was back disrupting your waking hours he’d do the same to your sleep as well.

Frustration welled up inside of you, and with a grunt you threw the pillow across the room, hearing it thud against the generic dresser. You were in one of the ‘guest’ rooms at the compound. White walls. White furniture. Grey bedding, curtains and carpet. It was fucking depressing. You were just glad that you weren’t going to be here for long. Just a few more days of going through the reconnaissance intel and running some training drills in the state of the art suite downstairs and then you’d be on the mission for real. Then, when it was over, you were going to leave - leave New York. Leave the state. Heck, you might even leave the country.

You flipped over in bed, trying to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep in, but every time you closed your eyes your mind conjured the image of Bucky looking at you as if you were the only thing in his world that had meaning. Sleep was a long time coming.

Three mornings later and you were up early, just finishing getting dressed where there was a knock on your bedroom door. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to know who it was. Lightly slapping your hands against your legs, you strode over and opened the door. Bucky stood there, his fingers all twisted around each other until he seemed to jump at the realisation of what he was doing and put them both behind his back. A smile played at the corners of your mouth. The highlight of the last few days had been the discovery that Bucky was as discombobulated by your presence as you were by his. The only difference was that you seemed to be able to hide it better. That knowledge had allowed you to sleep better the last few nights - the schadenfreude was delicious. And if you’d then played up to it - accidentally rubbed past him in small spaces, or laugh and flirt with a sweetly awkward Joaquin? Well it was exactly what Bucky deserved in your opinion.

You looked up at him with a raised brow and leant against the door, arms folded across your breasts, and you noted the minute flicker of his gaze down and then back up. “Can I help you, Buck?”

He scowled as you over-pronounced the start and end of his nickname. “I came to see if you were ready. We need to leave in twenty.”

“It’s not my first rodeo, Sargent, a fact you well know. As you can see,” you gestured down the length of your body with your hand, “I managed to get dressed all on my own. I can manage to achieve a surprising amount of things without your help.”

You pushed away from the door and snagged your go back from the floor. It didn’t have a lot in it because unlike the others you only relied on your abilities for both offence and defence. No guns, knives, vibranium arms, shields or wings.

Bucky didn’t move away as you exited your room, causing you to brush against him to get by. As you did so, pointedly not looking at him, his right hand shot out and snagged your upper arm. “Honey, please can we t-”

You shook your arm free angrily. “You don’t get to call me that,” you hissed. “You lost that right months ago. And no, we’re not gonna talk. I said it before, and I’ll say it again. After this mission we never see each other again.” With that, you turned your back on him and stalked in the direction of the hanger. He didn’t try to stop you and you wondered why you felt a lump in the pit of your stomach about it.

Chapter 2

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