#i will be doing this after i give my wrist a rest from the norway dtiys ksajljdasklj

[floralcrematorium]

I love him and he deserves more appreciation. The second installment of my Pretty Boy Trio!

template here

[bjornswoman]

Secret

Requested by none.

Author's note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for your support. I have decided to upload imagines twice a week. Thank you for reading my story! Have a nice day!

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Smut, romance.

Summary: You and Ubbe are having a secret relationship.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, strong language.

He was caressing your back softly, thinking that you were sleeping next to him, but you didn't. You were enjoying his touch. He always stayed awake looking at you sleeping peacefully, after you and him shared one of that moments you shared every night. Ubbe was afraid that he would lose you. Maybe that you would leave him in the middle of the night, or something like that. He was madly in love with you and didn't want to miss any little moment that you were by his side. He loved it when you were curled inside his hug and the furs of his bed was wrapped around your body.

His body was warm, too warm in fact, but you loved it. You loved everything that had to do with Ubbe. You opened your eyes and looked at the dark room. Ubbe kept caressing your soft skin. It wasn't so soft to be honest. You worked hard with your parents and your skin was hardened, but for him it was softer than silk. He loved that you worked in that farm of yours. It was his dream, to have a farm and live there with his wife and lots of children running around your house and the wife of his dreams was you. It was always you. No other woman was able to make him feel all that things that you did.

You turned to face him and he smiled. He leaned down and kissed your lips softly and then, when you pulled away, he placed you inside his warm arms and looked at you deeply inside your eyes. That blue eyes were the most beautiful you had ever seen.

The sun was coming up and the night was fading away. You knew you had to leave when you saw that outside the sun was shining. You should because the people of Kattegat shouldn't know. You were way too careful about people know. You were secretly in love. The only people who did know about your relationship was his mother and brothers, none else. Your family had forbidden you seeing the prince, because he was one of the infamous sons of Ragnar, he was going to spend some of his time with you and then throw you away, humiliating you and them in all Kattegat. Those were their words, but didn't stop you. You continued to see Ubbe, he was nothing like your parents said. He was reasonable and kind, be was the best man. He was the most important thing for you and soon you understood that if you didn't see him for a whole day, you would lose your mind. When he went for hunting with his brothers, it was too difficult to part from him and met him go. It was the same for Ubbe, he couldn't stand to not seeing you.

You pulled away from his arms, but not for long. His strong hands trapped your waist inside them firmly and his head was resting on your back. He wouldn't let you go. He did that every single time. He just didn't let you go to your home and tried to persuade you to stay on that bed with him, but every time you found your way out. You didn't want to but you had to. If your parents knew about this, they would send you away, or something like and you would never see Ubbe again. Every time that you told him that, he said that he was a prince, a son of Ragnar and he could just take you. Your parents could do nothing about this. After all, he was the prince, his father was the famous Ragnar Lothbrok, his family was too famous in all Norway, but he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to take you just like that, like you are some kind of thing that he want to buy. He respected and loved you. That was why he kept doing and agreed to do in the first place this secret relationship thing.

"Ubbe!" He tried to shout whispering. You didn't want to wake up everyone inside his house. Actually, yoy were kind of embarrassed because you thought that he helped you to come inside here secretly. You thought that his brothers didn't know, but that wasn't true. They all knew about you sneaking inside that Hall every night, but Ubbe had threatened them not to let you know that. They were teasing him, but not when you were close enough to hear.

He didn't answered you. He just tightened his arms around you and glowled. You smiled at this, but you wouldn't let him know. You tried to look angry and turned to face him. He laughed, he knew himself that you didn't want to go and tried to use it for his own advantage, but you wouldn't stay and it was too hard to get out of there. It broke your heart, but you had to. You wanted more than anything to stay with him or let every other woman to know that he was only yours, but that seemed impossible.

You could just abandon them for Ubbe, but they were your parents, you couldn't just do this to them. You loved them.

"Just stay a little bit longer." He spoke in hoarse voice and you moaned. That tone of voice could melt your heart just like that. He would say a simple words and that could melt you. When he heard your little moan, he smiled widely. He knew what he was doing to you this voice and used it as well. You turned your body his way and he placed his head in position so he could face you. Your hand caressed his beard. He liked it when you did that little thing.

"I would love to do that, but you know that I can't. I have to go home. You know what will happen if they don't find me inside there." You whispered to him and he exhaled deep. He hated that you were so right, that moment he was selfish and wanted you to stay there with him. "After all, it's not like you won't see me. I will be in the market, as always, and I know that you will be somewhere near there laughing with your brothers. The night we will be together again and maybe you will drag me to some barn in the middle of the day, when the sun is still up." You continued and he smiled. He would drag you to some barn for sure. Those smiles of yours drove him crazy every time. He couldn't just keep staring he wanted to have you, so he dragged you to some barn and did what he wanted to do the most.

"This will definitely happen, but I can't just wait for that. I want to have you now, my sweet (Y/N)." He spoke and kissed your neck. His beard was tickling you and you couldn't your moan, it was a loud one. He smirked and kept doing what he was doing. You pushed him away, but his firm grip worked for his sake, so he was still dangerously close to you. "You know that you can't escape from me." He whispered to your ear and every inch of your body shivered under his hot breath.

You tried to control your feelings, but that was impossible, that kind of feelings couldn't be tamed. Your love for Ubbe couldn't be tamed. You moaned again under the touch of his lips on your neck.

"Ubbe, please let me go..." You sounded desperate and he smirked. You were going to give in to him, to his touch. You saw red when one of his hands let go of your waist and started to move up from your knee to your tigh. You gasped when his fingers touched your inner thigh, inches away from your wet entrance. You wanted him to continue, to touch you, to feel his fingers inside you and then all of him inside you, but you mustn't want this.

By now you should have been outside his house. Actually, you should have been in your house, your bed's fur wrapped around your body and eyes closed. Of course after this night it would be impossible for to sleep and not think about Ubbe. That was what should have happened, but instead Ubbe was trying and he was succeeding to repeat what happened last night.

"I know that you want to stay a little longer, so stay just a little. I will be fast I promise. I need you (Y/N) and I need you right now." That was his last words before his fingers enter you. You screamed, but his hand placed on your mouth to prevent you from waking up all Kattegat. He laughed and started moving his fingers quickly inside you. You were moaning, but his hand was still on your mouth. Your own hands, both of them, were wrapped around his wrist and pressed his hand down to your mouth, so the other people in this house wouldn't hear you. "You like that, don't you?" He asked you. His mouth right above your neck, his breath fell mercilessly on your neck. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was enjoying tormenting you, so you wouldn't leave him, just for now. He knew himself that he had to let you go, even if he didn't what to do such a thing. It was your request this secret relationship and he agreed, because you wanted it.

You nodded as a reply and he clicked his tongue. After a moment, he stopped what he was doing and took his hand off your mouth. You looked at him frowned and desperate for his touch. You couldn't let you just like that. You needed him, that moment you needed him more than any other time. He started something and he had to finish it.

"I want words to slip out of that pretty mouth of your. Now answer me, (Y/N), do you like it when me fingers are inside you?" He asked you and you nodded again, before he would slip his fingers out of you, you started talking.

"Yes! Yes, you can't imagine how much I like it, Ubbe. Now please move! Please Ubbe!" You cried and he smirked he kissed your lips hungrily and started moving again. His lips didn't leave yours. They only did when his fingers slipped out of you too. You frowned and were about to talk but his hand stopped you.

"You can't imagine too how much I like hearing you begging me and you will beg me, but I only stopped because you are ready to take me." He said and took position inside your legs. Before he enters you, one of his hands trapped both of yours inside it and placed them above your head. The other one placed your legs up to his shoulders and then he finally entered you.

He thrusted hard himself inside you and you tried not to scream, it was too difficult when he moved too fast and rough inside you. You closed your eyes tightly and kept moaning loudly. You tried too hard not to scream and that moans were silent for your statement. Ubbe growled sometimes, but he enjoyed seeing you like that under him. His darker blue eyes were stuck on your face and examined your expressions. You bit your lip trying to prevent one too loud scream and he growled.

"When you do that thing, you drive me crazy, woman." He whispered to you and thrusted you harder than before, hitting you core. You were trying to stay calm, at least as calm as you could be.

When he entered you like that you couldn't be silent. You were noisy, every time you did that you were and he liked it. He liked hearing you screaming like that because of what he was doing to you.

When it was finally time for you to release yourself. You opened your eyes and looked at his blue one. Your inner walls clenched around him and he growled again, that led to his release too. He placed his hand on your mouth again, just to prevent you from screaming too loud and that was a wise thing to do. You released around him and he released inside of you. When you both had finished, your bodies were sweaty and your hands has a red mark because of his grip, but little did you cared. His body fell next to your and you looked at him. He was staring at the ceiling.

"I should leave now." You spoke again, but his firm grip on your right hand didn't let you. He pulled you closer to him and his lips pressed to yours in a rough kiss. When you pulled away he smirked at you, as you tried to catch your breath.

"Now you can leave, but be aware that I will come to find you later, woman." He spoke, as you started getting dress, so you could go home before your strict parents notice that you spent the night somewhere else.

[depressedtransguy]

okay this is my first posted fic please mind the tags

As The World Crashes

More and more blood smeared across Loki's hands as he tried to use something, anything, to stop the liquid from pouring out of Stephen's chest. Bandages slipped through his fingers as he spawned more and more, compressing them down to soak until they were completely red. Spells upon spells were cast to no avail. He tried everything from ice to fire and from Earth remedies to Asgardian magic. But it wasn't working. 

Tears slipped out from the god's glassy emerald eyes and splashed down onto one of the Rings of Raggadorr spread out below them as he heard his husband's breath only getting shallower and shallower every time he inhaled and exhaled. "Loki, stop," he roughly groaned, raising his trembling arm up to wrap around his wrist and pull it away from his body. "It's not going to help." 

"Well I have to do something!" the god of mischief choked out, more water rolling down his cheeks, his hands shaking harder and harder. "This is not how the greatest sorcerer supreme since the beginning of time goes out, struck down by some second rate monster attempting to do nothing more but devour a few trillion beings." 

A low chuckle came from Stephen's abused abdomen and he tilted his head slightly to make eye contact. "They didn't strike you darling." 

The god couldn't even stabilize his hands anymore, the held back sobs coming out in other ways. "Not the time, Stephen," he managed to hiss. 

With a small squeeze to his wrist, he comforted, "Your hands are shaking as badly as mine do. Relax darling, it's okay." 

"You think this is fucking okay?!" A small prick to his emotions was all it took for it all to come pouring out at once. "This was fine, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE!" His voice trembled and cracked like crazy. Loki raised a bright red hand away from his husband's blood soaked robes, pressing it to his own chest and biting down so hard on his lip it bled. "This was supposed to be fine Stephen. A simple mission we were given a fortnight ago to save a few planets from some interdimensional beast. Nothing extreme, we deal with this all the time, and this should have probably lasted about two days tops. It's been two weeks. I watched you wave our daughter goodbye as we left for Kamar-Taj. She waved back. Our son told you to come back alive. You agreed. So you're going to fucking come back alive Stephen, do you understand me?" 

Stephen didn't immediately respond. The sound and sight of his husband's sobbing and the pain was most likely both strangling his vocal cords, making him able to do nothing except slip their hands into place and link their fingers. "It is okay Loki. It is. Everyone has a time. Death is what gives life meaning." 

"Stop talking like that!" Loki begged, leaning forward until his body was racking with sobs right over Stephen's bloody one. "This isn't your time. We still have so much left to do. Frigga's only 25 in human years, she has so many more milestones to reach, and we're going to be there for her. And Anthony, he's just my age when we first met, we're going to be there for him too. Plus, you promised we'd grow old together baby. And you haven't broken a promise to me yet." 

Yes, Loki was obviously being selfish. But he couldn't give two shits. Stephen was not leaving him. "I'll still be there for you, always. I'll see Frigga grow. I'll see Anthony grow. I'll see you grow. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay," Stephen whispered, summoning the last bits of strength he had left in his body to raise up his hand not currently holding Loki's and yank his time stone necklace off, then pressing it into his open palm. Next he gently slipped his fingers into his beginning to gray hair and then brought him down to where he was lying to press their lips together. 

It almost felt like the first time they kissed. 

Now that was a while ago. A little over 1,500 years, just based on their daughter's age. Loki didn't remember the exact year. But he did remember that it was five months after Ragnarok. After the Asgardians settled in Norway, the god started visiting the sorcerer supreme more and more just out of plain boredom--but that quickly changed into because they both wanted to see the other. It only took a power outage and a fire to make them admit it and kiss softly by the tamed flames.

They were so young then. So much had changed. 

Yet Stephen's lips still felt the same against his. That had never wavered through the years. It's how their fights ended. How battles ended. What they did before they fell asleep at night. No matter what happened, how they grew and changed as people, Stephen and his kisses never left. 

Until now. 

But... maybe this last one would be enough. 

"I love you," the sorcerer supreme rasped against his lips. "No matter what--never forget that." 

Loki reluctantly bobbed his head lightly and gave him a sad smile, his heart cracking to see the pain laced in his gray eyes and on every line on his face. But that would be gone. He'd be in a better place: one without pain, without the haunting past, without the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He'd get to rest. "I love you too darling. More than I ever thought I could love another being." He took a small shuddering sigh before continuing. "Thank you, thank you for giving me a life that I doubt I would have reached without you. You were the one who let me rest for the first time in my life. And now it's my turn to return the favor." 

"Oh Dewdrop, thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better partner to spend my time with. You and Frigga and Anthony. I love you all with more heart than I ever thought I had." 

The strain in his voice was only getting worse, making it clear that he didn't have much time left. Last word time. So Loki swallowed all the trembling and fear and cracks to properly dismiss his husband. "You gave me a reason to live. A reason to wake up in the morning and actually face the world. And for that... I will forever be grateful. I love you. And I will never forget you." 

Their lips were pressed together once more to seal the pact of love and acceptance that flowed between them, recognizing that this would be their last time together until Loki entered Valhalla himself. Souls touching for one last time. 

Soon enough, Loki felt the body underneath his slowly ebb away from existence, Stephen turning to gold dust to become one with the universe where he belonged. He could clearly tell when there was nothing against him anymore, nothing but air. But he still sat there for a few minutes, reveling in the moment. Testing to see if everything would drop and the event would just be revealed to be some crazy lucid dream he had. He still had that thought in the back of his head that he would wake up any moment with Stephen's arms wrapped around his waist despite previous embracing of the situation. But when he finally peeled open his lids and stared down at the infinite space below the magic ring--he knew that this was real. And Stephen was dead.

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Prologue

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Next chapter

NORWAY, 857 AD

THE COAST OF RYGJAFYLKE

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” the clan’s seeress once told Eivor. “Any attempt to deviate from the path will simply be met with what was always destined to be. It is who we are. It is what we must accept. Even the gods are not free from this truth.”

And yet, Eivor couldn’t help but question her.

As he stood on the shore, watching the ocean’s foamy waves slowly pull back and forth into the sea, he wondered if this was truly what the gods intended.

Did the gods really deem it necessary for his father to die? Did they see a use in killing his mother? What could they have gained from tearing a child away from his parents?

The völva of their clan, Ingrida, always insisted that the Nornir had a set path for everyone in this world, and yet... Eivor felt more out of place than ever before.

Bjornheimr wasn’t his home. Arngeir wasn’t his father. Randvi and Thora weren’t his sisters. This wasn’t where he belonged.

His home lay beyond the icy mountains that towered over the distant horizon, buried underneath a tombstone of ash and rubble. His family awaited him in the forsaken depths of Helheim, and remained entangled in the jaws of Nidhogg the serpent.

But despite his parents’ demise, it seemed that the gods had a different plan for Eivor himself. When the rest of his clan fell to Kjotve’s axe, Thora rescued him from the flames. Like a savior sent by the divines, she whisked him away on a horse and brought him to safety, making him the sole survivor of that night’s attack.

He was still here for a reason -- his miraculous recovery was enough to proof that -- but he just didn’t know why.

He only wished the gods would tell him.

“Why did you let Kjotve kill you, father?” Eivor whispered, gazing down at the worn axe in his hands as flakes of snow fluttered onto its cold surface. “We are warriors. We are destined for Valhalla; you said it yourself. So why did you do it...?”

The boy’s grip tightened in anger, and he brought his eyes to the ocean in front of him.

“...You left me.” He muttered, his tone sharp with betrayal. “You died as a coward, and you left me alone. You went against everything you taught me, and let go of your honor when you should’ve been defending it.”

Eivor took one last glance at the axe, preparing to raise it in the air. “...Well, as far as I’m concerned, your axe can join you in Hel.”

Throwing his arm forward, the boy hurled the weapon into the restless embrace of the sea and let out a frustrated shout, only to be interrupted when someone suddenly grabbed his wrist.

He whirled his head towards the intruder with a quick jolt and glared at them in bewilderment, confused as to who would be all the way out here with him.

When his eyes landed on their face though, it all made sense.

“Ulfar...?” Eivor murmured in surprise. He wiggled his arm, attempting to break free. “Let me go...!”

The man only strengthened his hold more, trying to calm the boy down.

“Easy, little drengr.” Ulfar soothed, his voice straining with effort. “You are hurting. But this is not something you want to forget.”

Eivor tore his wrist from the man’s grip and turned away from him, ignoring his previous statement.

Ulfar was a close friend of Arngeir’s and served their clan as both a raider and advisor, resulting in a rather paternal relationship between him and the jarl’s children. He originally roamed Norway’s waters as a Jomsviking, but finally dropped the lifestyle when he fell in love with a woman from their clan.

He bore the look of a weathered warrior, and displayed many scars across his body. One of the man’s eyes had been rendered blind due to a deep sword wound that carved through his brow-bone, and half of his head was bald thanks to a severe burn whose marks still remained branded in his flesh. 

Overall, he was a stoic man weighed down by the burdens of many regrets, but not one to distance himself from compassion.

Eivor only wished he would’ve stayed in Bjornheimr.

“What are you doing here?” The boy asked sharply. “I thought you were at the longhouse with Arngeir.”

“I was,” Ulfar confirmed, “but then your father asked me to find you. He had a feeling you’d be out here, considering it’s... well...”

Eivor already knew what he was going to say. “...The anniversary of my parents’ deaths.”

Ulfar crossed his arms, letting out a sigh. “Everyone mourns in different ways, but your father is not at fault for what happened that night, Eivor. He did what he did because he loved you.”

“He died without honor.” The boy argued.

“Yes,” Ulfar conceded, “because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. When you find someone you love, you will understand.”

The man gently grabbed Eivor’s hand and pushed the axe closer to his chest, holding it firmly over the boy’s heart. 

“Do not abandon him, or his memory. You wish to reclaim the honor your father lost? Then you must fight for it.”

Eivor furrowed his brow. “But how? I can’t kill Kjotve. He would only send me to join my family if we fought.”

“Justice like this is not born overnight, Eivor. You must prepare. You must train. You must never lose sight of what matters. If you can manage to do that, then perhaps someday, the Nornir will bless you with a second encounter. Until then, all we can do is wait.”

The boy wasn’t satisfied. “But he needs to die now. He’s already killed so many people. Why not go after him before he can kill more?”

Ulfar knelt on the ground and gripped Eivor’s shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I share your pain, Eivor. Believe me, I do. I want nothing more than to see Kjotve’s head on a pike after what he did to Linnea... but any attempt to kill him now would only end in disaster. We must bide our time, and we must never let our grief overpower us. Do you understand?”

Eivor picked up on the man’s tone. “...You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Ulfar’s expression sank with remorse. “...I have. I betrayed many people who were close to me in the name of vengeance when I was younger, including my own father. I was banished from my clan as a result, and ended up in Bjornheimr after years of wandering as a stray.” He paused for a moment. “...Trust me, the sacrifice isn’t worth it. You cannot allow yourself to fall prey to these thoughts. It will only worsen the storm.”

Eivor was silent in response, but it was clear to Ulfar that he had calmed down somewhat. A sense of heartache still lingered in the boy’s eyes, but he seemed to be relieved of his aggressiveness from before.

Ulfar stood up from the ground and brought his attention to Bjornheimr, gazing at the fortified village from a distance as the day slowly began to come to an end.

“Come,” he instructed, patting Eivor on the back. “Your father awaits.”

But the boy stayed in place. Despite Ulfar’s insistence to return home, he remained tangled in the countless thoughts that plagued his mind and continued to stare out into the ocean, seemingly getting lost in its ethereal embrace.

“...Eivor?” Ulfar said, beckoning him with a wave. “Come along, boy. The darkness is settling in.”

The child dismissed his commands and simply looked down at the axe, posing one final question before taking his leave.

“Ulfar?” Eivor asked. “If you had a second chance to save Linnea from Kjotve, would you take it?”

The man thought the answer was rather obvious. “Of course. ”

“And if Kjotve asked you lay down your arms like he did my father... would you do it?”

Ulfar fell silent for a second, playing out the scenario in his head. “...I would.”

That only seemed to confuse Eivor more. “Then what makes Valhalla so special? Why spend your life trying to earn a place at the gods’ side if you’re willing to give it up for a human?”

The man hesitated, admittedly at a loss for words. “I... I don’t know, Eivor. That is a question you’ll have to ask Ingrida. I can only tell you how I feel.”

Ulfar stepped closer to Eivor, guiding the boy away from the shoreline. “Come, little cub. We can discuss this later. Let’s get you home first.”

Eivor sighed in defeat, finally deciding to put the matter to rest for now. He didn’t quite understand the meaning behind Ulfar’s words, or why Arngeir insisted on letting more time pass before launching another assault on Kjotve’s people, but he assumed everything would fall into place eventually.

If the stories Ingrida spoke of held any merit to them, then it must’ve meant that the Nornir planned all this from the start. There must’ve been a reason as to why the gods were keeping Kjotve beyond their reach, and denying Bjornheimr any justice for now.

Perhaps it was because they were waiting for Eivor to grow up. He wasn’t much use in a fight in his current state, but with enough training, he imagined he would join his brothers and sisters on the battlefield someday. He would finally have the chance to personally go after Kjotve himself, and take him down for good.

He just prayed that the gods would allow him to deliver the killing blow.

“Alright.” Eivor said quietly. “Let’s go home.”

Ulfar gave the boy an encouraging pat on the shoulder and gently pushed him ahead, guiding him back to the village. 

“Keep your head up, drengr. We are not broken yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~

13 YEARS LATER

BJORNHEIMR

Light.

That was all she could see.

As Synin soared across the wintry meadows surrounding Bjornheimr’s spiked walls, she saw naught but radiant beams of light seeping through the bare trees, dotting the ground with golden blots.

A gentle breeze kissed the ebony feathers rippling on her wings as she brought herself higher in the sky, and in the whistling howl that filled her ears, she heard her owner’s voice calling out to her, beckoning her to the ground.

In one swift movement, Synin angled her body downwards and began gliding towards the lively village, leading her through an abundance of new obstacles. Everywhere around her, men and women of all ages strolled through Bjornheimr’s dirt paths, conversing amongst themselves about recent events.

They were drinking, flyting, playing dice, firing up furnaces, tickling lutes -- and in the midst of all the bustle sat the Wolf-Kissed himself, quietly spending his morning atop a snow-covered hill.

He was currently sitting on a bench with his back leaning against a boulder as he sharpened an axe, repeatedly dragging a stone along the edge of its blade. There wasn’t a care in the world occupying his thoughts at the moment, and considering the agenda for the day, the viking imagined it would be short-lived.

“Synin,” Eivor said with a smile upon noticing her in the sky. “There you are. Find something to eat?”

His companion flew closer to the ground, perching herself on a nearby shrine.

“Good.” He remarked. “You’ll need your energy for today. Apparently, there’s going to be a ‘special’ guest arriving this morning. There’s been lots of preparation involved. I have no idea who it is, though.”

Eivor stood up from the bench and slid his axe back into its handle, strolling up to Synin.

“Just promise me you’ll be on your best behavior, alright? I don’t want to see anyone getting pecked like when Leif came to visit us.”

A second voice joined the scene, diverting Eivor’s attention away from his bird.

“Eivor, who are you talking to?”

The man glanced over his shoulder, only to find himself in the company of his older sister.

“Thora.” Eivor greeted, casually walking up to her. 

Thora was a rather built woman whose flesh was decorated with many tattoos, and had the gaze of a hawk. She had a head of long dark hair that had been braided into a simple ponytail, and was dressed in a traditional outfit consisting of armor and fur.

What really caught Eivor’s attention though, was the irritated expression on her face. 

He chuckled in a lighthearted manner, gesturing to her scowl. “You look happy today.”

The woman let out a sigh. “Well, I’m not. Things have been stressful beyond belief. I’ve been hunting with Eirik all morning preparing for this feast that father wants to hold, and I’ve been trying to find Randvi before King Styrbjorn arrives.”

That took Eivor by surprise. “Wait, King Styrbjorn is the guest father was talking about? But the wedding is a fortnight away.”

“Father wants to give Randvi and her betrothed some time to get acquainted before the marriage takes place,” Thora explained. “He’s also hoping that our clans can become familiar with one another.”

A scoff escaped her lips. “Imagine only being ‘acquainted’ with your future husband. What a joke.”

Eivor picked up on her mood. “I take it you don’t approve of Randvi’s betrothed.”

Thora shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t like him. I don’t know him. Our families are complete strangers, and yet, father expects me to entrust this man with the safety of our own sister. It’s preposterous.”

“Who is her betrothed, anyway?”

“A man named Sigurd,” Thora answered. “According to Ulfar, he’s a man of great ambition and battle-prowess. Others might find that appealing, but in my experience, those are the ones who prove to be the most dangerous. I’m not sure I trust him just yet.”

Eivor let out a laugh. “I’m not sure you trust anyone, Thora.”

“And for good reason. But... I was hoping you could do me a favor, Eivor.”

That piqued his interest. “What’s on your mind?”

Thora stepped towards him, gesturing to the village behind them. “Could you help me find Randvi? She’s supposed to join father at the docks soon, and I’m too busy helping Eirik prepare for this feast. I could really use an extra pair of hands, and I’d rather not keep King Styrbjorn waiting.”

Eivor gave her a quick nod. “Of course. I’ll start asking around.”

His sister sighed in relief. “Thank you, bróðir. I owe you one.” Thora turned on her heel and began making her way down the hill, only to stop in her tracks when a sudden thought crossed her mind.

“Hey, Eivor? If the opportunity arises... could you speak with Sigurd face-to-face? There’s a very small chance he’ll show his true colors around father or Randvi, and I’d sleep better at night if I knew exactly what kind of person we were dealing with.”

The man shrugged. “Why can’t you talk to him?”

“Because you’re the one who’s always been good at reading people. If you see nothing wrong with him, then I’ll know he can be trusted.”

Eivor decided to go along with the plan. “Very well. I don’t see why not.”

“Thank you. I trust your judgement. Let me know what you think of him once you’ve been introduced. I hope that you’ll bring me good news. Otherwise, I don’t fancy the idea of handing Randvi over to someone who could potentially harm her.”

Eivor took on a more serious tone, joining his sister as she descended down the trail.

“We wouldn’t allow it.”

Thora smirked, walking proudly alongside her sibling. “No, we wouldn’t.”

[librapjmx]

suddenly, it was love | sequel

summary: two years pass and you found yourself working on a new project for your company. seems like fate brought you and the people you wanted to forget back together 

member: namjoon x reader | yoongi x reader

haven’t read the first part? here it is

Your new life in Norway was a pretty good start for you. A new journey, new adventures, and challenges were ahead of you. You knew that the language was one key barrier for you but soon you learned and studied hard to become someone, to earn money, and settle down. You started working in a company, sponsoring trips, concerts, and more. It was nice to earn enough money for food, clothes, and a roof above your head. At first, you considered staying for the rest of your life but as time passed by you found yourself feeling lonely and foreign, no matter how easy the living got in Norway. You sought for your home, your people, and most importantly the feeling of being at the right place, a place you call home. You promised yourself to leave Norway once your last schedule was done. After giving in your resignation letter, your chef insisted you be the last time a part of one of his projects. He prepared so well and waited for this sponsorship a long time ago and now, the chance is in front of him and he wants you to lead it and be in charge of this important project.

"Y/N, you know that you're one of my favorite and important employees. Without a smart girl like you, I wouldn't be able to handle all of this." The CEO stared into your eyes, his hands grabbing a black folder in which his next project was written in.

"This project has been in my sight for so long and it's just as important as you. I want you to be the leader of my last project. Do well, don't disappoint me, and good luck" he exclaimed as he handed you the black folder. It felt so heavy when it was just papered. The immense amount of weight you felt wasn't because of the folder but because of responsibility lies on your shoulders. You know how much your CEO trust and respects you. You won't disappoint him.

"I will do my best Sir" you smiled, standing up and turning around to leave his office. You sat down in your workplace, next to your coworkers as you dropped the folder on your desk. Opening an empty word document, ready to type in your schedule for your last project.

You grabbed the dark folder and opened it. You were met by the cover sheet of the folder. Once your eyes scanned the, you felt your heart race at immense speed while you clutched onto the folder. Mouth dropping wide open as your eyes darted on the words on the cover sheet.

"Project BTS" you read out in a whispering tone, a fond look on your face.

You weren't sure how to feel or what to do. Now, everything was getting so black, the people around you stopped moving an inch and at some point, you only were able to listen to your heartbeat. Wondering if it was anxiety or fear of having to face people you wanted to avoid. These two years away from your home were horrible for you and you felt how the pain of your first days after your departure came back. Days of crying horribly in your apartment were running like a movie in front of your eyes. The feeling of guilt and hatred. The feeling of being betrayed by life and hating it. You didn't even know what kept you alive and what helped you fighting against this cruel life. Of course, you didn't want to give up on your last project but the consequences of facing all of them were pretty clear. You closed the folder as you stood up. In no way were you ready for this moment. Even after your departure from Norway, you decided to settle down in a small area where nobody will know you.

Hesitantly, you knocked on the door of the office of your CEO.

"Ah, Y/N do you have any questions?" he asked, his eyes scanning the black folder in your hand. His eyes were intensely staring into your eyes as if he knew why you're in his office.

"Sir, I-" you stopped in your tracks and asked yourself. What if they already moved on? You felt a little selfish by thinking that after two whole years anyone will be emotionally involved with you. Thinking back, everything was still hurting but that doesn't mean that it was the same with them. Who are you kidding? You've run away once, you had no intention to run away again. If there is something to face, then this project must be destiny's work.

"Don't tell me that this project is too much work for you." His eyes were curiously scanning your expressions.

"I, I just wanted to let you know that I will put my everything on this project" you exclaimed, hiding your real intention of knocking on his office. He chuckled slightly, finding it pretty adorable that you had to come to his office for assurance.

"I rely on you Y/N, that's why I chose you" he mumbled, turning back to his worksheets. "Their departure is tomorrow at 8 am, don't forget to pick them up. I don't care if you accompany the chauffeur or if you send in the van, that's for you to decide" he said, looking back at you, "now, this project is yours. Don't disappoint me" he smiled widely.

You bowed down, "I won't" you smiled back as you turned around to leave his office.

You dropped on your seat, opening the folder as you read through the papers. No matter how much you reread the schedule you weren't able to remember anything since your mind drifted off. You were never a person to focus on other things at work but now, you couldn't help but think about him. You wondered how he has been and what he has done until now. There were times where you tried to catch up with the media and what was going on. BTS was a hot issue nowadays and you knew that they were doing pretty well as a group, but you wondered how everyone was doing individually. Especially him.

You called the driver of the huge van, letting him know that you were awaiting BTS in your office tomorrow. To be honest, you weren't exactly sure if you wanted to accompany him. Nonetheless, you told him to go alone. The manager of their group will assist with everything until they arrive safely. Until then you booked a hotel, with a good price, and in a safe area where they wouldn't get bothered by crazy fans.

The day went past, and you found yourself walking from corner to corner in your small office which your CEO made accessible for your last project. Your heart started beating crazily and you were afraid that you would collapse any minute. Regretting your choice of not giving up on this project and leaving the country earlier made you feel irritated. You weren't sure how to react. Of course, they knew you. What about acting as if they're strangers? That's too cruel.

Just as you thought about escaping the whole situation, the knock at your office door brought you back to reality. You took a deep breath as you shut your eyes. It's time ...

The door opened, and you were greeted by the manager of the group, smiling widely at you as the boys came in one by one. Once their eyes locked with yours, their mouth dropped wide open. You were standing right in your position unsure of how to react or what to do. Trying to put on a smile was harder than you thought since your lips were locked in their place, not moving or reacting just like your body. Your heart skipped a beat as the person you longed for entered the room, not even looking up.

"Y/N!" you heard a familiar voice call out for you. Your head moved in the direction where it came from. Yoongi's eyes shot open as he looked up, staring at you a little shocked but also relieved. Jimin started smiling widely as his body moved in your direction, his arms wide open, greeting you with a firm hug. You were startled, still didn't move as you stared into the eyes you longed for staring at in the past two years. In no way was he thinking differently. His gaze didn't leave yours and for the first time of the day, you felt your lips curl up weakly. He didn't return the smile, instead, he dropped his gaze, ignoring your presence in the room.

"Wow, the world really is small" Jimin chuckled as he leaned back and looked at you.

"You've disappeared without telling any of us, without even saying goodbye" and you were kind of confused as these words left the mouth of Hoseok who was now greeting you with a warm hug. Yoongi hasn't told them about your departure.

The rest of the boys came in, hugging you except for Namjoon and Yoongi who stood in the room awkwardly. You bit your lip, looking down at your fingers.

"I needed a little time off for myself-" you whispered, returned by a giggle.

"The little time you're talking about expanded to two years, little girl" Seokjin exclaimed his finger pointing at his left wrist, acting like he was showing you the time. You smiled softly at him. You wondered how they can be so nice to you after all that happened. They must've figured out that Namjoon and you broke up already. What about you and Yoongi, do they know?

You exchanged the schedule dates with their manager before he left to make some arrangements. You were left alone in your office with the boys. They sat on the sofa while you told them about their upcoming schedule for the whole week. You even started talking about how you have been these past two years and what happened. It felt like time rushed as you found yourself getting a little tired but not wanting to leave since you missed them all so much.

"Whoa Y/N, you're still so organized as I remember," Jungkook said which you chuckled at.

"So how come you're still in Norway, don't you think about returning home?" Seokjin asked and you saw how the heads of Namjoon and Yoongi popped up, feeling their gaze on you, you sighed.

"I don't know" you lied, not wanting them to know that once they leave this country you would leave it as well. They were quiet as you noticed how the boys gazed between you and Namjoon. Clearly, they had no idea about you and Yoongi.

"Well," Taehyung broke the silence, standing up, "I think we will make our way to the hotel. The flight was so exhausting" you nodded, standing up as well.

"Do that, you will need your rest" you assured as you walked them to the door, feeling that a member of them hesitated to leave the room. The boys were giving each other some hints as they disappeared, closing the door behind them. You turned around and approached your desk as you heard the knock on the door, turning to face the one who wanted to enter your office.

"Y/N" the voice sent a shiver down your spine and the fact that you had to look into his eyes was making you feel even more nervous. He closed the door behind him as he approached you slowly, hesitating to wrap his arms around your body since you backed away, signaling him to keep his distance.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, his hand reaching out for his neck as he bit his lip, "How have you been?" Namjoon cleared his throat unsure of what kind of conversation he can start with.

"Well, I've been doing pretty well" you lied, putting on a weak smile. You weren't as nervous as he approached you anymore.

"That's a relief..." an awkward silence was starting to fill the room and you wanted him to leave the room. Not because his presence was making you uncomfortable, but the silence was making you feel uneasy and awkward.

"Look, I-" his eyes sparkled and you were afraid of his words.

"I don't want to feel awkward or like a stranger next to you. I know that we broke up a long time ago but that doesn't mean that we've never known each other. I don't want to force you to come into my life again, I just want you to know that you're still special to me" he smiled, his dimples showing in the dimmed light of your room.

"I believe it's a miracle that fate decided to let us meet again. I believe that there must be a second thought to that, or maybe even a second chance" his eyes stared intensely at you and you wondered how he came to this conclusion within some hours.

"I know you might think that I am acting pretty fast but within these hours of only listening to your voice I had to get this off my shoulders. Y/N you left without any word and without letting us share a conversation like two grown people. I was getting sick of trying to reach out for you. But look there, fate made us meet again" his hands reached out for yours as he grabbed them firmly while locking his eyes with yours.

"Namjoon I-" he cut you off, not letting you talk in any way.

"Please don't say anything. I don't expect anything from you, I just want you to know that I didn't forget about you" he said, a soft smile was plastered on his face as he continued, "We'll leave after a week and I just wanted to make my point clear to give you enough time to think" he sighed deeply as if he was throwing off the weight from his shoulders.

"See you tomorrow then" He let go of your hands and turned around to leave the office. At that moment, you felt the ache in your heart. The feeling of betrayal and disloyalty towards a person you respect a lot. You didn't know how to react. His words were soft with affection, but they didn't affect you the way, you thought they would affect you. What exactly was he expecting from you? And why did you expect these words to come out from someone else's lips?

The past days went by pretty fast and you showed BTS gorgeous places in Norway. They had the opportunity to meet some fans and enjoy themselves. You were close again to the people you loved being with. You were able to have a conversation with every one of them, including Namjoon who was trying his best to be next to you. He talked to you, joked around with you and you forgot about your worries for a moment but then you found yourself staring into the distance, wondering why things ended like this. Yoongi clearly doesn't care enough for you and you were afraid of facing him again. You had no interactions with him at all. All he did was taking pictures with his huge camera, avoiding you, and only talking to his band members. Maybe he was doing it right. If you would've spent another minute with him, you would've fallen in love with him again. Was it love that blossomed again or was the love still in you, waiting for a sign by the person whom your heart belonged to?

"Y/N" Jungkook called out for you from the roof of a huge building. You started laughing wholeheartedly as you looked up, seeing how he started to dance to one of his choreographies. Showing him your thumbs up you clapped your hands together. You couldn't help but feel the intense gaze of someone on you. Slowly, you turned your head and looked in the direction of Yoongi who was pointing his camera in your direction. Caught off guard, he dropped his camera as you made eye contact with him through the lenses. The camera made contact with the strong asphalt of the road, the voice of cracking material filling the area.

"Ow shit, that was the sound of money cracking my ears" Jungkook shouted from above. You approached him, not knowing how but your feet guided you in his direction. He kneeled to pick up the parts of his now broken camera. He started picking up the parts even faster, not paying attention to what he was picking up since he felt that you were coming closer. The scent he promised to never smell again was touching the tip of his nose. Just as you were about to approach him he stood up and brushed past you, leaving you alone, hurt and confused. You wanted to keep on walking when you heard a dimmed crack under your feet. Moving your feet, you looked down as you faced the memory card of his camera. You kneeled down to pick it up but just as you wanted to call out for his name, you noticed his absence. Putting the memory card into your bag, you decided to hand it to him tomorrow.

At home you found yourself throwing yourself onto your bed due to exhaustion. Two more days were left, and you were excited but also sad to finish this project. After spending more time with the boys, you were sure about your departure from Norway. Seoul was your next destination and you promised to rent a place far away from the boys but still trying to keep in contact with each one of them. Just as you wanted to shut your eyes, pictures of Yoongi in front of you were appearing in your head. The way he concentrated on taking the pictures, getting the right angles, and moving the camera rightfully. At that moment, you wondered how the pictures he took were looking like. In no way did you mean to spy on him, it was just the curiosity that wanted to have a detailed look at the pictures. These pictures were a part of his personality, a part of him, and even though he ignored you extremely and acted as if you weren't there, you couldn't help but think about him even when he is present. You couldn't stop your heart from racing when both of you came closer and you couldn't stop your heart from aching once the closeness went to distance. You were still madly in love with the guy who was unapproachable for you.

You plugged the memory card into your laptop as you waited for the folder to open excitedly. Clicking on the folder you pressed on the slideshow, wanting to stare at these masterpieces in one go. The memory card contained a lot of pictures from the past days in Norway. The landscape, his members, and ... you? You furrowed your eyebrows as your pictures were displaying in front of you. The way you stood next to the members, talked, joked, or laughed with them. Others contained you smiling widely, playing around by yourself. You haven't noticed him taking pictures of you and it kind of made you feel special. You didn't notice how the tears started forming in your eyes. Tears of joy or was it tears of sadness. The feeling of wanting a returned love story. Just as you wanted to close the folder more pictures started displaying. These weren't pictures from past days no, they took place two years ago. While you were in a relationship with Namjoon still. At that moment, you realized how often he carried his camera while you all went out together. You were so focused on Namjoon that you've never noticed it. You felt ashamed and so sad that you weren't able to see all of this back then.

Soon you found yourself lying on your bed while crying yourself to sleep. How much you wished his arms to surround your fragile body, whispering comforting words into your ear while caressing your hair softly until you fall asleep. The night was pure torture for you.

The next day you met in your office, telling them about their upcoming trip to a famous area in Norway. Today was the last day before their departure which will take part tomorrow in the early morning. The boys decided to get ready in their hotel rooms and you accompanied them, telling them that you will wait in the lobby. Yoongi was eyeing you suspiciously as if he knew that you had something that belonged to him. Of course, the memory card was still lying in your hands and you found yourself staring down at the memory card. You wanted to ask him about the pictures but were afraid of his answer. Afraid that he will give you the answer you wait for. Even though you set your point two years ago, you still had a glimpse of hope that his feelings towards you didn't vanish completely. Why else would he still keep all of those pictures from you? Or maybe you're just overanalyzing it. There must be no meaning to that.

Someone cleared their throat behind you which made you jump from your thoughts as you turned your head to see Yoongi staring questioningly at you. His gaze dropped down to your fingers which were holding the memory card firmly between your fingers as if you were afraid to lose it. You stood up and shook your head as you approached him slowly.

"You-" this will be your first conversation after two years and you were unsure of how it would end. Will it is small talk, or will you hand the memory card to him, and without any words, you will part again?

"You dropped this yesterday and when I wanted to hand it to you, you were already gone" hesitantly you held out the memory card, hoping that he will take it and stay. So that you will be able to listen to his voice. He nodded his head, a weak smile plastered on his lips which made your heart explode and you were sure that the feelings towards him haven't left your heart. Your body still tensed up next to him, you felt rebellious as if your love towards him was to hide. His hand reached out for the memory card, fingers brushing softly your hand as he grabbed the card. The moment your fingers touched, you felt the blood rush through your veins, pumping your heart and shading your cheeks in light pink. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but then he decided to shut his mouth again. He was about to turn around when you held him back.

"I saw the pictures," you said with simple directness. He stopped in his tracks, turning his face towards you as you saw his cheeks getting red while he tried to avoid your gaze. Both of you stayed like this for a couple of minutes and only looked at each other without saying anything. Again, he was about to turn around when you called for his name.

"Yoongi-"

"Y/N-" he started, and your heart made a small jump as his voice filled the air. It felt like he took his courage together and finally wanted to talk. But just as he wanted to go on, he was cut off by his younger member calling out for your name.

"Y/N today is our last day, we have to at least have a nice dinner together" Jimin exclaimed, approaching you with his other two bandmates Hoseok and Namjoon. You turned your face to Yoongi who smiled weakly as he turned around. As if he found it ridiculous to even try to have a conversation with you.

Through the years he felt like he was getting weaker. Each day he found himself hurting since he lost something precious in his life. He never got used to your absence and the possibility of you never returning again. That's why forgetting you were even harder. He tried to make clear that the reason for your separation was disloyalty but no matter how much he tried to convince himself of that reason, he thought that your whys and wherefores were just illogical and stupid. He tried to put the blame on you, tried to hate and detest you but each time he tried to, he found himself in more pain than he was when he just lived on. Hating you was never on his list and ignoring you was just something he couldn't do.

Smiling at the bandmates, you nodded, seeing that Yoongi was already distancing himself from you. "Let's do that. You chose, where and what time. Send me the location and I will be there" you already forgot that you were the expert in Norway and that the boys were rather like tourists. Yoongi left the lobby from the exit and you ran his way, opening the door only to find busy people, walking on the street. No signs of him. You sighed as you turned around to walk up to the others.

"Can we leave?" Namjoon asked and you nodded, wondering where Yoongi left to.

"Where is Yoongi?" you asked as you looked around. The boys shrugged their shoulders. Just as you wanted to search for him a deep voice behind you called out for you.

"I'm here" he mumbled deeply from behind you. You shut your eyes, his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Nodding, you just went on the last trip to a famous area. The last day was rather timid and you wondered how the thing would go after returning to Korea. Today you only had eyes for Yoongi and you didn't care about the others. He felt the same way. Because this time he didn't ignore or distanced himself from you. Even though you barely talked he felt like he had to justify himself for the pictures he took of you and he wasn't sure what kind of reaction you had to the pictures. Over the course of the day, he found you sitting on the bench all alone while the boys went to McDonald's getting hungry really fast. You just wanted to sit down and wait until they finished eating their junk food. Suddenly, you saw Yoongi approaching you slowly as you leaned back slightly. He sat down next to you and sighed, his hands on his lap as he stared into the distance. Your heart started beating faster the more the silence grew.

"Y/N..." he started, still not looking at you. "About the pictures yesterday-" he started, trying to form the right sentences.

"Yoongi-" before he talked further you cut him off. "I saw them all-"

"And?" he asked, his heartbeat increasing, the fear of his dreams shattering with only one simple word. Just as you wanted to answer, you got interrupted by the maknae of the group, calling out for you two. You let out a sarcastic chuckle, finding it ironic that you always get interrupted by someone.

"I wonder if we've been a target for a curse. We must've been cursed" you chuckled, slowly, pulling a stain of hair behind your ear as you watched him carefully. He just smiled cheekily as his gaze dropped on his fingers.

"Every curse breaks one day" he smirked, seeing that the maknae was distracted by Hoseok as he turned his face to you.

"In fairytales only" you sighed as you turned your face from him, looking into the distance in front of you.

"How do you know?" you felt him staring intensely at you while you started fidgeting with your fingers on your lap.

It felt different, sitting next to him after a whole year. After slowly, getting used to the idea of not being able to see him. Not letting go but accepting him not being around. Even though, you missed his scent and his presence you couldn't help but think about the reason for you two not being able to be together.

"I don't know but, when I look at us I can't see a happy ending at all" you clarified as you still didn't look into his eyes, afraid of melting away once the words leave his lips.

"We haven't seen the end of our fairytale to jump to conclusions now. Maybe there will be an end full of surprises, huh" he chuckled and you wondered how he was able to be all positive in that situation. Actually, he was amazed by how he handled the situation. Because this time he wanted to make sure to state his point. This time he was aiming to not lose you.

"You're afraid" his gaze was burning on you and you felt the heat rising up as the tension grew.

"I am" you admitted.

"Don't be" He leaned his back as he breathed out quietly –"as long as you tell me to be distant I won't make a move on you and I will let my mind control my heart." He pointed from his mind to his heart. He didn't know where the courage came from and sure didn't want to stop in his tracks.

"Until I'm able to look into your heart. But if what my heart is telling me is true. If there is even a glimpse of hope for us-" he was cut off by you calling out for his name, trying to stop him to talk further.

"Yoongi-" but he jumped in and ended his sentence fast as he leaned in, your face inches apart that you were able to hear and feel his breath.

"Then even you won't be able to stop me" he finished, making you look up and stare forcefully into his eyes as he went on- "if you didn't forget me and my feelings." Your eyes landed on his, staring deeply into his soul, knowing that just like you he still didn't let go.

"Because I still didn't forget about you." He clarified as he leaned back again to put his hands into his pockets, staring into the distance. With that he stood up from the bench, turning around to you one last time as if he was waiting for your answer. You were afraid of answering, afraid of giving him hope and then letting him down again. Because no matter how much you want to throw your arms around his neck, your guilt stops you. Guilty because of your disloyalty towards Namjoon. But again, an inner voice was calling out for you. Calling out for his name.

Just as he wanted to walk up to his members you stood up, stopping him.

"I haven't" those words left your lips faster than one can count to two. His head turned to the side, eying you from the corner of his eyes. "I haven't forgotten about you..." you sighed, stepping closer, "about us" you admitted, only letting your heart take control over your feelings and words. You saw the ends of his lips curling up as he walked away from you, trying to hide his euphoria at your words. Suddenly, he was a different person. Someone who was more cheerful than ever. Somehow, both of you confessed after such a long time. Even though it wasn't a real confession. This time you wanted to hold onto him, overgo all the stations in your path, together with him.

The night was approaching, and you made yourself ready for the last dinner with the boys. Putting on a decent and modest dress. As if you were going on a date with Yoongi. Even though the others were joining, you knew for sure that you had only eyes for him.

Sitting down on your chair you waited for the others to arrive and as the time passed you found yourself feeling more anxious. Being dressed fancy but sitting alone in front of a big table was reason enough for you to get pitiful glares.

Just as you wanted to grab your phone to call them a warm hand landed on your right shoulder from behind, making you turn around. The smile faded slowly as you saw Namjoon standing in front of you, all alone.

"Where are the others?" you asked, staring behind him, hoping that the others will eventually come after him.

"They take a little longer with packing" he scratched his neck nervously as he smiled faintly. Without saying anything further he sat down next to you.

The waitress came asking for your order. Namjoon leaned back loosely as he ordered his food. The waitress stared at you, waiting for your order.

"I won't order until they arrive," you said, smiling back at the waitress who left. A couple of minutes went by and Namjoon's food was served. He didn't touch anything but rather stared at you, deep down waiting for you to say something. He sighed as he leaned forward to be closer.

"Actually Y/N," he started, biting his lips since he was unsure if he should really be honest right now. He chuckled, feeling uneasy and silly for what he was about to say, "The boys won't come" he admitted.

"What?" you mumbled, hoping that you heard wrong.

"I told them to not come because I wanted to spend time with you" he stopped, his eyes locking with yours, "alone" he finished his sentence.

"Why?" was the only thing that left your lips.

"Y/N, do you remember our first day in Norway? When we talked in the office together. Well, I talked." His hands were reaching out for his neck as he rubbed it slowly, this time afraid to look into your eyes. "I told you that you are still special for me and that I wanted to give you time to think about all of this" The atmosphere filled with a cold breeze of air and you felt your heart break apart while the tears made its way up to your eyes.

"Y/N-" his hands grabbed yours and your heart jumped. Afraid of giving him more hope. As if it was a reflex you pulled your hand away from his grip. His smile faded.

"Namjoon, I-" he cut you off.

"Is it because of him?" he gritted his teeth and your eyes widened at his words.

"Wha-" again he interrupted you, his hand balled into a fist as he hit the table with it, making you jump in shock. People were starting to look at you, but you couldn't care less. He was waiting for your answer, waiting for you to deny it but you were silently staring into his soul. He stood up angrily, making you wince as your heartbeat increased. You realized where he was heading to and soon you stood up and ran behind him. He was in a rage, blood shooting out of his eyes as he focused on the road while walking.

"Namjoon, please listen to me-" you grabbed his shoulders over and over again, trying to stop him but his fury was bigger.

"What?" he shouted, stopping in his tracks suddenly, making you take steps back, afraid of his sudden movements.

"Was it fun? Was it fun to break my heart?" he yelled, his eyes filling with tears. "Do you think that I haven't noticed the atmosphere between you and Yoongi? Do you think I'm blind to not see the way you were looking at him? Nonetheless-" he raised his finger, biting his lips as he shut his eyes, "Nonetheless, I had hope in me. Hope that you still loved me" he wiped away his tears as he took a deep breath.

"Y/N" his hands reached out for your face as he pulled you closer, his forehead leaning in on yours, "I loved you so much... why?" he asked and you weren't able to form words.

"I'm so sorry Namjoon" you repeated endlessly until he pulled away. He wiped away his left tears as he stared at you seriously, stepping back and turning around.

"Wait Namjoon, it's not his fault! Please listen to me" you ran behind him but he pushed you away with his arm extending, making you step back. He didn't even listen any further as he left you in the middle of the night all on your own.

He was rushing into the hotel, knowing that the boys were still awake, waiting for Namjoon to arrive with good news. That wasn't the case. Furiously he opened the door to the room, storming inside as he threw his jacket away. Surprisingly, no one was in the room. Maybe they went out but at that moment he heard the noise of a running TV and he figured that the boys left except Yoongi. From behind he saw him watching TV carelessly and it made him mad.

„Seems like you love to take old things of mine" Namjoon scoffed at his older member as he took the remote on the couch to turn off the TV. Yoongi was surprised at the sudden movement and entry by Namjoon.

„What's that mean?" Yoongi hissed, knowing exactly what he meant.

„You know exactly what I mean" Namjoon mumbled, not wanting to have a conversation with him at all. Yoongi, the angry person he was, walked up to him and grabbed the remote.

„If you're able to start a conversation then you should be able to set your point and finish it" he exclaimed, arms crossed over his chest. Namjoon ignored him as he sighed, leaving Yoongi by brushing hard past him.

Yoongi chuckled sarcastically and looked down, knowing that his member was still in the room. „Glad to know that you're treating Y/N as equal as ‚things'. Had no idea you were looking at here in an objective way" he knew that he touched a sensitive spot of Namjoon. He was rather boiled with anger as he turned around and stepped closer to Yoongi, grabbing his shoulder harshly and turning him around.

„I never said that Y/N was an object" he pushed Yoongi but all he could do was smiling slyly.

„You surely treated her as one by your statement" Yoongi was calm, knowing that it will piss the younger one-off.

„Just because you know I'm right you try to change my statement the way you find it pleasant" Namjoon pointed at his chest as he pushed him again.

„What will you do, huh? Y/N loves me, not you" he called out as Namjoon wanted to return into his room.

This one was too much for the younger one to handle as he ran up to Yoongi and grabbed his collar.

„You bastard! You knew that Y/N and I were happy and just because you couldn't fulfill your life with the happiness you decided to destroy mine" his face was too close for Yoongi to handle and he simply grabbed the hands of Namjoon to loosen them and push him back.

„If it wasn't for your ignorance toward her then you would be able to say that but believe me you hurt her so much with your behavior that you don't even deserve to decide if she was happy by your side or not" he bluntly said being really relaxed.

„Y/N belongs to me Yoongi and this will never change. I know that she is just confused because you took advantage of her! She will forget you soon!" he chuckled sarcastically, making Yoongi angrier even though he tried to prevent himself from showing his anger. „Look, you're being a pain to my ass. I would be happy if you would just disappear" Namjoon finished his statement, followed by a hard push against Yoongi's chest.

"I can't believe you tell me these harsh words. She sure isn't confused Namjoon. Face it! You were a jerk and now you have to pay for it" he chuckled and rolled his eyes as he wanted to brush past his member, but Namjoon grabbed his arm and turned him around, pushing him at the wall.

„Y/N is mine!" he gritted his teeth, coming closer as he was ready to fight with his member.

„Oh is that so? Then let me change that quickly" Yoongi smiled slyly, the boy was in a rage, nothing could've stopped them two as he leaned in closer to Namjoon, „Do you want to know what happened between me and Y/N after you broke up? Do you want to hear what she told me this afternoon? Do you-" just as he wanted to finish his sentence he was pushed against the wall, Namjoon fisting his jaw as he hissed in pain.

„I won't hurt you, Namjoon" Yoongi held his jaw as he looked up at his younger member who was burning from anger, his eyes darted on Yoongi as he wanted to run up at him and hit him again. Just as he wanted to walk further, he felt a tight grip on his wrist and a familiar voice calling out for him, telling him to stop.

„Please", your voice cracked as you sniffled softly, staring at the two in front of you in disbelief. Namjoon relaxed as soon as your grip tightened around his wrist. Yoongi eyes you in shock as he took a deep breath.

„What the hell are both of you fighting for?" you questioned even though you knew exactly the answer because you were listening to the conversation since the beginning.

„Hell, that's exactly what I wanted to avoid and you two are making it even harder for me! I, I just wanted both of you to be happy" tears were streaming down your face, you loosened the grip on Namjoon's wrist and wiped away your tears.

„You two are freaking brothers how can you fight over such a silly thing? Is it worth giving up on your friendship?" you asked, both of them were staring directly at you and were concentrating on your words.

„Yes, I was disloyal Namjoon because I fell in love with your best friend, your brother" you wiped away the tears as you stepped closer, „But believe me we never cheated on you. We both fell for each other without bad intentions and it ate us up that we weren't able to hold each other. Even if that feeling of having each other was astonishing, there was always a spot in our hearts which were hurting because we thought about you, about your feelings" you said in a brittle tone. Namjoon was hearing his heartbreaking as he figured that you were already gone from his love.

„I never wanted to lose any one of you two. Namjoon, not even you and you might think that this is stupid but I wanted you as my friend." you chuckled slightly as you turned your head to the side, „That's pretty selfish of me, right?"

The room was filled with silence not one single word left the lips of the boys.

„I never wanted to betray you or play with your feelings and I apologize wholeheartedly if I did, I just sinned and couldn't control my heart" your eyes looked up to meet the ones of Yoongi who gulped hard, afraid of your next move, afraid that you will decide to leave again.

„My heart ate up my rationality as I held his hands, it told me that it was okay because it was love. I wanted to fight back, fight the urge to let myself go next to him but I couldn't and I hate myself for that" you whispered the last part as you stepped closer again, both eyes locked on your face.

„I hate myself for ruining a friendship" your voice cracked again, fighting the urge to cry even harder.

„But we can't decide who we fall in love with" you shook your head. One last time you stared into his eyes as you stepped back, wiping away the left tears.

„From today on I won't bother you two anymore" confessing was a bad idea and you should've given up the project from the beginning.

„I'm so sorry for the pain I caused. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me but please forgive each other" you turned around with your last words, afraid of hurting them more by staying.

Not even an hour passed and Yoongi found himself in the living room, head hurting and heart aching from the pain of a never fulfilling love story. He always thought that this kind of love was only existing in movies but that was the first time he believed in love and the power of that certain feeling towards someone.

Within the night the other boys returned. Surely, they felt that something was off but blamed on the stress and the busy days. They didn't even question Namjoon about the dinner with you and he was happy that nobody mentioned her name. The flight departure was arriving, and the boys left for the airport.

"Isn't Y/N coming?" Jimin asked as they were driven to the airport by a black van.

Namjoon stared back at Yoongi who had his music blasting through his ears, drifted off by his surroundings as he imagined your face in front of him. He sighed, shrugging his shoulders, not wanting to talk about you right now. They knew that something was wrong but the signals of Namjoon for not talking any further were even more vivid.

The van came to halt and the managers were taking their suitcases while everyone else went straight into the airport. Namjoon waited until all of them were gone as he held out for the wrist of Yoongi. The daydreamer turned around as he pulled out his earbuds, curious about what his younger friends were about to say.

Namjoon chuckled, "I really am a jerk" he mumbled, making Yoongi furrow his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I am a jerk for not being able to see the connection and love between you and Y/N." he sighed, "I wronged her and you were by her side all times and for that I am thankful," he said.

"I really don't deserve her. Maybe I'm not even that strong to love her the way she deserves to be loved. I know that Y/N loves with heart and soul, a kind of love who is willing to sacrifice her everything for the happiness of her beloved one." He exclaimed, staring into the distance as the words left his lips. Indeed, he was right in everything he said. He realized your love was strong enough to sacrifice your happiness even twice.

"Men do not have the strength to love that way but in your eyes Yoongi, I saw that kind of love. That kind of love which loves with heart and soul. It's astonishing how both of you love the same." He chuckled again, staring down at his feet as he smiled faintly, "I wish it would be like that, but she doesn't love me." Yoongi was silently listening to his younger member.

"Both of you will think that I will feel bad and awful. Yeah, it's true, I'll feel awful. It will hurt letting her go but life goes on. And maybe in a couple of years, I will laugh and remember that I've loved a girl named Y/N who never belonged to me. But it's not your fault. We don't choose who we fall in love with" Yoongi's eyes were filling with tears. For a moment he felt selfish and he just wanted to forget you, but he knew that it's not easy.

Yoongi and Namjoon were still standing in their positions, not moving an inch but then Yoongi heard a sob in front of him. His throat was hot and itchy due to holding back the pain. Yoongi stepped closer to Namjoon, hesitantly reaching out for his younger member to turn him around. He looked up at him, hesitating of doing the next step.

"You're my best friend" Namjoon mumbled, holding in the tears.

„We're brothers" Namjoon took a deep breath as he wrapped his arms around Yoongi, patting his back the way Yoongi did as well. Both of them smiling faintly as they leaned back fast.

Namjoon wiped away his tears and cleared his throat.

„Can you promise me something?" Namjoon asked him and Yoongi exactly knew how much his younger friend suffered right now. He knew what it meant to love.

"Don't give up on her." He said as his older friend nodded, ashamed of doing it but still promising it. "I've already organized it with our manager. Your flight is booked for tomorrow evening." He took the ticket out of his jacket, handing it to his friend. Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows as he saw two tickets in his hands.

"But-" he started getting cut off by Namjoon.

"I hope you'll bring her back home" he said, sighing as he looked at his watch, "Well, I have to leave before I miss our flight" you leaned in, whispering "I don't want to be the third wheel around you two" he chuckled and his friend felt the pain in that faint laugh. He waved at him as he stepped away but before he left Yoongi called out for his name. Namjoon turned around, his eyebrows raised.

"Thank you" Yoongi smiled, holding the tickets firmly in his hands. He received a smile from his member as he saw him walking away from him.

Yoongi took out his phone, realizing that he didn't have your number in his phone. He didn't even know where you live. In these unknown streets of Norway, a language and people unknown to him, he decided to search for you. He even forgot about the name of the streets where your company was. Nonetheless, he tried his best and unpacked his English skills to ask strangers. The name of the company was well known at least. He jumped into a taxi driving to your office. He really hoped that you would be in your office. The night was pitch dark and the lights of your company were shut already. Still, he approached the building hoping to see you. He didn't know why but he felt like you were in that building, staying in your office all alone. Shutting away from everyone as you did back in Seoul. Either here or in your apartment. Sadly, he didn't know where you were living. Going back to the hotel would be a hassle since they checked out already. He sighed, taking a deep breath. First, he had to calm down.

"Yoongi?" the voice sent a shiver down his spine. As if you knew that he would be standing here in front of that building. He turned around slowly, staring at you from the distance as he recognized the silhouettes of your body. You were stepping closer and once you saw his face, your heart sank. You were confused as to why he was here.

Yoongi didn't hesitate a bit as he approached you with huge steps, his arms surrounding your body as he pulled you tighter. His smell made your feet feel weak, his touch was making your heart race, and the way he caressed your hair made you feel safe somehow. You didn't know why but at this point you started crying as you pulled your arms around his waist, sobbing into his arms. Time stopped.

That's how both of you started. How your love story started. You were crying in his arms again and he was embracing you again.

"I told you Y/N, there will be an ending full of surprises, didn't I?" he mumbled, making you chuckle as you were still sobbing. You didn't want to let go of his warm embrace, but he leaned back. His hands grabbing yours firmly as he locked his eyes with yours.

"Yoongi, why are you here? Your flight departed already. What about-" you started rambling as he cut you off.

"Don't worry my manager is aware." He said putting a strand of hair behind your ear. "I already have a ticket for tomorrow and you will be accompanying me" Yoongi exclaimed and your eyes stared at him wide open, your mouth dropping.

"But-" again he cut you off. This time he wanted to explain before he let you speak.

"No 'buts', listen to me Y/N" he smiled at you. Your hands were still in his and you felt his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand, "I think we suffered enough. Two years, I wasn't able to listen to your voice, I didn't see your smile and it made me go insane that the only thing left from you were the pictures in my camera. Still, that wasn't enough. Y/N, no matter how much I tried to forget or hate you, I couldn't. Because my love was so strong that I considered hating myself but not you. Because all you deserve is love!" He sighed as he stepped even closer, one hand cupping your cheek to wipe away the tear that left your eye, "It's time to break the curse. This is our fairytale and only we can break it"

"Will you kiss me to break it?" you chuckled faintly, making him smile at your words.

"I'd do that," he said in a serious tone. You sniffed and wiped away the left tears as you took his hand on your cheek in your hand again.

"But nothing is as easy as in fairytales. Yoongi I don't know what I would do without you but after seeing what happened today, I'm sure that I will only cause pain. I hate to say this but I still see no happy ending for us" you admit. Yoongi sighed, letting go of your hands as he pulled out the tickets. He stared at them with a faint smile plastered on his lips.

"Do you know who gave me those tickets, telling me to bring you back home?" Yoongi asked, raising his eyebrows as he stared at you, "Namjoon" your eyes widened at his words.

"We don't have to start a relationship once we get back. Just promise me that no matter how long it will be and when promise me that in the end, you will still be mine" he mumbled, putting the tickets back into his jacket.

"Yoongi" you mumbled, your hands cupped his cheeks as you stepped closer, "I am and will be yours forever."

"Then come with me. Let yourself go in my arms. Don't worry about the future and just stay in my arms" his hands cupped yours which were on his cheeks, slowly bringing them down. He lifted your chin, his warm touch burning on your skin.

"I'm trusting you" you whispered, feeling him leaning closer as you shut your eyes.

"Trust me" he whispered, his breath touching your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he leaned closer. He closed his eyes, leaning in as his lips finally touched yours. It wasn't like the first time when you kissed. The first time was explosive, but this was bombing. It was soul-piercing the way his hands cupped your cheeks and he felt at ease as you kissed him back. Sometimes a new start is what everyone is searching for. Sometimes happiness takes time to find you.

"Y/N" he mumbled as he leaned back, breaking the kiss, "Are you coming back home?"

You smiled, nodding your head at his question. His grumpy smile was making your heart jump as he leaned in to hug you tightly. Though you in his arms already made you feel back home again.

"Let's go home Yoongi" you mumbled in his embrace and he chuckled, kissing your hair.

[angel-fire]

set my soul alight

summary: loki finally has you right where he wants you.

warnings: slight dubcon, very very nsfw. knife play, enemies to lovers because if you’ve ever spoken to me you know i’m about that shit. as always, don’t read if you’re under 18. 

A/N: okay this is like... almost pure filth i don't even know what to say. but in honor of no nut november being over imma share what i finished writing the second i had an orgasm for the first time in a month. title from supermassive black hole (yes the one from twilight!!)

---

You’ve done plenty of stupid things in your life. Chasing whiskey with wine coolers, texting back people you probably should have blocked – deciding that yes, working alongside the Avengers seemed like a perfectly reasonable career path for the rest of your life.

You could deal with the spies, the weapons dealers, the abandoned Hydra bases you’d raided for intel from time to time. You’d made peace with the fact that at any moment, you could be summoned for a mission you wouldn’t return from. And, well, it’s hard to regret your decision when it’s more than just walking the line between life and death. It’s the bonds you make with your teammates, the lifelong friendships you know will last with people that leap into the abyss right alongside you.

Oslo, Norway. It was supposed to be simple. You weren’t supposed to get caught. Taken. The question of how you got here is unnecessary, simply chalking it up to just another ill-advised decision you’d make in your life. If it lasts.

The God of Mischief stands before you, clear blue eyes raking over your bound form as he observes you. Your wrists are tied up above your head by what feels like silk, your ankles tied with the same material, bound to what feels like a post attached to a wooden beam. You’re upright, head lolling around on your shoulders as you rouse into consciousness. You become extremely aware of the fact that you’re still in the jeans and top you were wearing while you were supposed to be undercover earlier. Undetectable. So much for that.

“You’re awake.” Loki remarks, taking a calculated step towards you. No shit, you think. You drink him in, clad in an all black suit with his hair brushing the tops of his shoulders. He’s still disarmingly attractive, which is an in-fucking-convenient thought for you to be having considering he’d kidnapped you about – from what you can assume by the absent sun outside the window to your left – one or two hours ago. “Good. I’ve missed you, darling.”

“What the hell are you doing?” you mumble, tired limbs struggling against your bindings in a futile attempt to free yourself. At least it isn’t rope, you muse. Being tied up with thick ropes and subsequently tased until your bones rattled under your skin had been the least fun you’d had six months ago in Venice. The most fun… well. That’d been involving the god before you, teasing him into a frenzy ending in a hushed whisper of salacious promises detailing the things he would do to you if he got you alone. You suppose decision making is definitely not your strength, because after you’d rebuked his filthy whispers with a mere smirk accompanied by a wink, you expected that to be the end of it. Flirting with the enemy can only get you so far.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that day?” Loki inquires, ignoring your question entirely. “When you’d begged so sweetly into my ear for me to fuck you, to take you in the most filthiest of ways? I’ll admit, you rendered me speechless.” He chuckles to himself at the memory as your face flushes.

“I was not begging, and I didn’t mean it,” you respond automatically, the lie tasting like ash as it slips off your tongue. Loki only smirks, making you internally cringe at yourself. No matter how good a liar you might be to any other enemy, your teammates, your friends - you knew you couldn’t lie to him. Not to the God of Mischief.

He’s not just your enemy, a small part of you whispers. You shove the thoughts down before they can gain any traction.

“I should punish you for trying to lie to me,” he glides closer to you, eyes trained on your heaving chest at having him in such close proximity. “Shouldn’t I?”

There’s an unmistakable sound of a blade being unsheathed, your eyes flicking down to his right hand and widening when he produces a dagger from his wrist. It’s long, sharp, the light of the moon reflecting along its blade as it glints at you. You shudder instinctively, fear and arousal licking up your spine the longer your stare lingers on it.

“You were always my favorite,” Loki muses, standing a breath away from you as he draws the knife closer and closer to your body. “So headstrong. Unbreakable. I do look forward to seeing you fall apart for me.”

“Fuck off, Loki,” you snap, pulling against the silk ties at your wrists once more, realizing that they’ve likely been spelled to stay put. You would have been able to break free by now if they weren’t. That’s what you tell yourself, at least. “I’m not doing anything for you.”

“Oh, you’ll beg for me, I know it,” he chuckles darkly. “I can practically smell your fear. The way your body responds so deliciously to it. You’re dripping in spite of it, because of it.  And if I did this-“ he raises the sharp edge of the knife up to the base of your throat, dragging it across the length of your clavicle to where it meets your shoulder. You shiver in anticipation, toes curling, and his eyes flash. “-you wouldn’t be able to hide just how much it excites you.”

“Shut up,” You gasp, watching the tip of the blade travel over your shoulder and, with a quick maneuver of Loki’s wrist, tear through the fabric of your top. “God, Loki, what the fuck?”

“Don’t act like you’re not aroused by the feeling of the steel against your skin alone,” he counters, dragging the blade clean through your top all the way down to its hem, effectively exposing your left side. “Knowing I could hurt you so easily if I applied just-“ he presses the knife’s tip into the delicate skin of covering your rib cage ever so slightly, drawing a shaky breath from you as you feel the rush of arousal flood between your legs. “-the right amount of pressure. Your body betrays you, little mortal.”

“You’re sadistic.” You breathe, unable to deny the urge to clench your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“Maybe,” Loki simply chuckles, pulling the knife away from you and flipping it between his nimble fingers in a way that makes your eyelids flutter and your heart race. His left hand travels up your other side, drawing your top above your breasts, gathering the material in his hand as he yanks you close. “But you love it, don’t you?”

You have no time to answer before his lips connect with yours, teeth biting at your lips and tongue curling around yours as you gasp into his mouth. The taste of his tongue sends you into a tailspin, wrists straining not just to escape, but to bury themselves into his raven hair and drag him closer. You chastise yourself for feeling this way, but when Loki pulls away and promptly lowers to his knees before you, your mind goes blank.

“Fuck,” you whisper, watching with wide eyes as he takes his knife and cuts straight through your flimsy jeans, waistline to ankle. You hope he doesn’t notice the way you tremble in excitement ever so slightly, but when you hear him hum quietly in approval, you realize it’s useless to try to hide it from him. Well, he is a god, you muse.

“There it is,” he murmurs, lithe fingers teasing at your skin as he cuts your jeans completely off of you, tossing the remaining scraps of it somewhere to his left. “You’re lovely when you give in, darling.”

“I won’t, you bastard,” you curse, shutting your eyes tightly and tilting your head back in an effort to delay the inevitable.

“You will.” He promises, and you feel the tip of the blade dance up your ankle, over your knee, pausing at your thigh as he brings it inwards towards your femoral artery, before passing over the crevice between where your thigh meets your sex to play at your hip bone. Loki lightly traces indiscernible patterns along your skin with the knife, and your spine alights with pleasure as heat builds in your core. He’s teasing, building up to something else, and you know it by the way he growls as he senses you becoming more and more aroused by the second, trading the knife for both his hands as he pries your thighs apart as far as they can go in your position. Your eyes snap open at the feeling of his hands on you, so close to where you want him, so close to where he’s very capable of making you give in.

The last coherent thought you have is about how you can no longer feel the tightness of silk binding your ankles, but the last thing you feel is Loki’s dark chuckle against your thigh before he dives in.

His tongue plunges deep into your pussy, lithe digits holding you open for him as your thighs shake and your legs ache to be released, to wrap around his head and squeeze in retaliation for this assault of pleasure. He pulls away just enough to raise his dark eyes up to yours, a sly grin dancing across his lips.

“Oh, Agent... Your cunt tastes absolutely divine.” Loki purrs, long tongue flicking out of his mouth to catch your essence spread across his lips. No sooner after, he dives back in, the wet muscle of his tongue flicking against your clit and urging your hips to arch into his mouth. He drinks from you voraciously, hungrily, a man starved of touch for so long that he can’t get enough when he finally has it.

“I wonder if your precious Avengers know just how sweetly you moan for their enemy,” he coos into your thigh as he takes a moment’s pause. “I wonder if maybe I should make them watch, next time. Watch you come apart at my touch, my tongue.”

The feral expression on his face as he devours you combined with the sounds of your slick heat between your legs in response to his ministrations causes you to let out a high pitched moan, jerking your hips wildly, to which Loki simply buries his face further into your folds. He wrenches your thighs even further apart and wraps your legs around his neck, ankles crossed between his shoulder blades as you clench around his tongue while his hands press bruises into your thighs. You’re helpless in resisting, taut body tensing above him as you hurtle towards your peak at an alarming rate.

“I feel you holding back, darling,” he murmurs against you, the rumble of his voice rippling through you like an electric shock. You let out a gasp when he inserts a long finger up and into you, making you tremble with delirious pleasure as you give another sharp moan. “Let go for me. Give in. Let me make you come.”

You squeak when he pushes another finger into your wet heat, stretching you open as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks, your body unable to hold your release in any longer as you come apart in a wave of unbridled passion. You’re nearly bent backwards in half, Loki’s arms holding you up by your quivering thighs as you come into his mouth. He laps at you greedily, emitting growls that reverberate against your pussy, drawing whimpering moans from you when it only seems to prolong your orgasm. You’re lost in rapture, hands grasping for something to hold onto in an attempt to stay grounded but coming up with nothing but cold air and the sensation of silk on your wrists.

Loki’s already gazing up at you with darkened eyes, fingers lazily pumping in and out of you as you come down from your high. “Feel good, do you? You sang so beautifully for me, little mortal.”

You huff indignantly, narrowed eyes lowering to meet his blown pupils that surely mirror your own. “Don’t think this means anything.”

“It’s valiant of you to believe you aren’t already mine.” Loki hisses, dragging his fingers out of you and, as he rises from his feet, abruptly shoving them into your mouth. You inhale sharply around his fingers, the taste of yourself on your tongue jarring and intensified by his face nearing yours once more. Your eyes lock, and the challenge in his stare nearly makes you submit completely. Nearly.

Eyes still trained on his, you throw him a salacious wink before circling your tongue around his fingers, lightly sucking them into your mouth as you watch his stare grow darker and his breathing become heavier.

“Oh,” Loki rasps, voice thick with arousal. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

Abruptly once more, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and winks in retaliation as he licks the rest of you off himself, humming in delight as he tastes the mix of your cum and saliva on his tongue. With the same hand, he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back to look up at him. A pang of arousal shoots through you and you let out a quiet whimper, Loki’s breath fanning across your face as his eyes scan your features.

“You want it, don’t you?” He beckons in a low voice, removing his hand from your hair to grip your jaw with bruising pressure. “You want my cock so deep in you that you see stars.”

With your breath trembling, you mutter what you hope comes off as an affirmation in a moment of pleasure-induced weakness. You take his satisfied smirk as confirmation that it did.

“Now,” he purrs into your ear, lips tracing down the length of your jawline and up to your mouth. You’re shaking with it, this need that could only be sated by his touch and his alone. “Are you mine?”

You’re breathless, aching for more – of his tongue, his lips, his cock. You manage to shoot him a sly smirk of your own, craning your neck towards him to whisper in his ear. You know the answer, and he knows it too, but you don’t pass up an opportunity to make just one more ill-advised decision.

“Why don’t you untie me and find out?”

[after-witch]

Under a Bridge (Yandere Norway x Country Reader)

Title: Under a Bridge (Yandere Norway x Country Reader)

Synopsis: You’ve been under Norway’s thumb, trapped and caged in more ways than one. You seek help from otherworldly beings, but a deal once made, can’t be undone.

(Request: Anonymous asked: Yandere Norway with a country s/o who can use magic and see magical creatures like him? Like how would he deal with them trying to get help/escape through their magical creatures help?)

Word Count: 1600

notes: yandere

“Your temperament is better,” he says quietly, settling down in the chair across from yours. A modest dinner, smoked fish and fresh vegetables from the garden, rests on the table between you. You made it tonight, without fuss, as you have been for many, many nights before. You even hummed while you did so, a song you heard long ago from a creature now turned to dust.

You smile sweetly--softly, still, but sweetly, and that is what matters.

“I know I’ve been… disagreeable,” you say, choosing your words carefully. You’re very careful now--you must be. Or all of your good behavior, your compliant cooking and helpful, listening ear, will have been for naught. “I understand now that you… only want what is best for me.” You say nothing more, gently lifting a piece of cooked vegetable to your lips, watching his reaction.

He doesn’t react much to your words. He never did, even when he was angry with you, in the time that you were a wild, fighting, nasty thing; back when you screamed out curses and begged every creature you knew might hear to help you, to no avail. Cut off from your homeland, cut off from your magic; you could feel it, tingling and stretching, trying to reach you across miles and miles and so many borders. But that feeling dimmed, day by day, week by week, until it was nothing but a soft ache in the back of your mind.

He was patient, you will give him that. He didn’t scream or hurt you, at least not in the way that you supposed captors might normally hurt an non-compliant, unwilling captive. He simply laid out his expectations, laid out his rules, and waited day by day for your resolve to weaken.

And now, his subtle smile over the table tells you all you need to know.

It means that he trusts that you’re behaving. It means that he trusts that you’ve accepted your place, small and cramped and caged in this little house with its little garden, cut off from your homeland and even the once-familiar creatures that helped you or hurt you or kept you company over the long stretch of your life.

It also means that he trusts you not to spike his dinner with a sleeping potion. 

His mistake, of course.

You make small conversation, giving him updates about the garden and the animals, about repairs you’re going to make to this and that dress. He’s quiet, which is par the course--but you see over the increasingly mundane conversation that he’s starting to nod out. Slowly, slowly, until he mentions that he may sleep earlier than usual. You rise, so polite and caring now, and help him to bed. He barely makes it onto the freshly laundered bedding before he passes out.

You waste no time. Instinctively, quickly, you grab the bag you’ve prepared for your flight. Tucked underneath a floorboard, it’s enough to keep you safe and energized until you can get far away. You tucked some trinkets, things to barter with, should you find anyone (or anything) trustworthy enough in the forests.

Your dainty house slippers, made for trodding on soft boards and grass in the garden, are replaced with a pair of his sturdy boots. They’ll do you better in the forest. Without a second thought, you’re gone--you don’t even bother shutting the door, instead fleeing on foot; you leave the sounds of crying goats and concerned chickens and the rush of the stream alongside the cabin behind you.

--

Your time--how long, you wonder, how long--living a quiet, pampered house-life with Norway has left you weaker than you realized. You can no longer run for hours on end, strong and free, wind whipping behind you.

You’re forced to take breaks, resting on logs or on piles of leaves, trying to catch your panicked breath. You nibble on your rations and take the smallest sips from your flask. You yearn to take big gulps, especially when your lungs burn and ache from exertion, but the streams in the forest have always worried you. Back home, they were cheerful, clean; you might find someones and somethings inside, with wings or green skin or even tails, but they were always willing to part with fresh water for a trifle, a song or a compliment. Nothing serious. And they’d never tried to drown you, as far as you knew, which was more than you could say for some other water-logged entities back home.

Norway never let you fetch water from the stream near your cabin, always handling it himself. There may have been a reason for that, you remind yourself, opposing the increasing temptation to greedily drink down the precious water in your flask and refill it from a bubbling brook.

You refuse to sleep that first night, opting instead to keep running. Your potion, if crafted correctly, should keep him asleep for 2 full nights. And you want to get as much distance as possible between you in that time. The forest is unnerving, unfamiliar. You try to reach out for anything familiar--but whatever creatures inhabited Norway either ignored you or brushed you off as something unusual and foreign. Don’t bother with this one, you heard from a tree, though you can’t decide if that notion was offensive or not.

The sun is setting on your second day when you realize you can’t hold off on refilling your flask anymore. It was a silly notion, after all, to think you could ration water while your body was screaming from exhaustion.

You drain the last dribbles of water and follow the sounds of rushing water until you find something you didn’t expect to see: a waterfall, rushing down in great white bubbling, empting into a small river with unusually clear, glass-like water. You glance in the water. It’s clean… too clean, you realize immediately, to be an ordinary forest river. There is not a spec of debris, no sign of a fish, nothing but beautifully, tempting--, really--water that exuded coolness.

You drain the last dribbles of water and follow the sounds of rushing water until you find something you didn’t expect to see: a waterfall, rushing down in great white bubbling, empting into a small river with unusually clear, glass-like water. You glance in the water. It’s clean… too clean, you realize immediately, to be an ordinary forest river. There is not a spec of debris, no sign of a fish, nothing but beautifully, tempting--taunting, really--water that exuded coolness.

You know better. You know better and yet, you find your hands unwillingly gripping your flask as you untwist the cap. You lean down towards the stream, and in the glass-like reflection you can see something--more than one something--watching you from the middle of the river. Women, with long black hair stringing down past their naked waists; grinning, eager, beckoning you with their hands. Something more, too, on the other side of the river. A human figure, blonde and blurry, watching and waiting--but for what?

You want to pull away, to run until your lungs explode, but your hands feel like lead puppets, heavy and obeying someone else pulling the strings. You dip the flask down in the water, which is cold, so cold--and you can see the long strands of thick black hair coming closer, curling under the clear water like snakes. Some of the tendrils begin to loosely wrap around your wrists, like chains, and you’re briefly reminded of the cuffs Norway had once used--

Your unwitting reverie is suddenly broken by the sound of a low, rumbling laugh next to you. Your entire body jerks, the flask flying from your hands and into the water, to the sound of disappointed bubbling groans. You twist to the side and look up--and up, and up--at a massive forest troll. Covered in moss and leaves and even bird nests, some with eggs tucked neatly inside them.

“I--” you start, shaking your head, blowing away whatever enchantments had you. “If it was your intention, thank you for helping me. If it wasn’t your intention, thank you all the same.”

The troll laughs again, gruff and not altogether unpleasant. “I only wanted to see what he would do if I stopped them.” He gestures towards the other side of the river with his rock-like chin, and that’s when you realize--blonde, yes, blurry, no. It was Norway standing there on the grassy edge of the river, looking--for once--quite pissed off. The potion must have been weaker than you thought--damn recipe.

Your body falters. You want to run, but there’s nowhere you can go fast enough at this point. You look up helplessly at the troll and whisper out a plea, something you know you should never say to the unknown: “Please help me.”

The massive troll seems to consider for a moment, then opens his palm and shrugs. You glance at his giant teeth, some green and some sharp, but there don’t (for the moment) appear to be any human-sized bones inside. You climb onto his palm and he lifts you up high, cradling you against his mossy chest, while you try to ignore the sounds of Norway yelling--yelling, for once!--after you.

You feel the troll’s other hand patting the top of your head, shockingly gentle but condescending all the same. “Don’t worry,” he says, “He can’t enter my home to get you, my….” He mumbles now, and you can only hope you misheard the last word: “pet.”

[princess-of-riviaa]

Inflicting Misery Chapter 5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: Five years pass in the blink of an eye, but when you run into a familiar stranger on the beaches of Norway, it feels like no time has passed at all.

Author’s Note: I sincerely apologize that this chapter took so long to get out. After the last chapter, I couldn’t figure out where the story would later pick up. And this story has become so dear to me that I didn’t want to rush anything if it wasn’t where the story was meant to go. I’m unsure as to how long this story will be, but there will be at least one more part (due to my awful tendency to write cliff hangers lol).

Warning(s): mentions of sex, making out, fingering

Word Count: 3,577

He stands at the edge of the shore, taking a few strides towards the water and then running out of the ocean’s reach as the tide draws back in. You watch him carefully. The man looks so familiar, you swear you know him. Distant memories of intimate touches and shaky breaths fill your mind. Your chest tightens as you recall your last moments with August Walker all those years ago. That man was a stone-cold killer that ran the second he started to feel anything at all. The man you watch now, the man surrounded by friends and laughing without a care in the world, is as far from August Walker as the sun is from the moon.

But you know that body. The man’s muscular chest and arms--and the dark curls that decorate his pecs and naval--are as familiar to you as those faint scars are. You recognize each mark on his body. The one on his left shoulder was from a knife fight in Brazil; you’d been with him in that alley when the gang attacked him, and you had been the one to put a bullet in all their heads, saving August’s life. The two-inch mark across his stomach was from a bullet, given to him by a Norwegian man on the same night August made his first move on you, the night he discovered you were a virgin and refused to have anything to do with you. There’s at least a dozen more scars scattered across the rest of his body; you know the story behind every one. You know that man on the shore--and at the same time, he’s a stranger. In the six years you’d worked with August, you’d never seen him smile and laugh like that, like he was an actual human being that could feel something.

Not to mention that the last time you saw August Walker, the entire left side of his face had been scarred over after being brutally burned.

This man you watch now--his face is flawless.

You realize you’ve been standing there watching him for too long when he casually glances in your direction. His eyes land directly on you and his smile completely vanishes. He frowns, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, but you walk up the beach before he can come closer to you. But if that man is August Walker, you know it’s too late. He’ll find a way to run into you tonight and threaten you to stay away from him.

You hadn’t followed him on purpose. Hell, you had no idea he’d be in Norway of all places. The only reason you were here was because... Because you haven’t felt anything in five years, and then you got shot on a mission gone awry, and as you hovered between life and death, the only thing you could think about was that first night August had kissed you in that small hotel in Norway. You took the first flight here as soon as you were well enough to leave the hospital. Maybe walking these streets would help you feel something again, allow you to feel alive for just one night.

You hadn’t gone looking for him.

You didn’t want to look for August Walker.

You’re smarter than to chase after a ghost.

Which is what he’d very clearly wanted you to think of him as, according to that stupid note he’d left for you on that last morning. The day after you’d given yourself up to him in the most intimate way a human could. Two weeks before you discovered you were pregnant with his child.

You hadn’t come here looking for August Walker.

That man is dead to you.

...

He finds you at sunset. You’ve spent the afternoon shopping and spending your money on lavish outfits you’ll probably never wear, and as you walk the streets to your bed-and-breakfast, you realize you’re being followed. It’s too late, though, because you don’t even have a second to pull out your pocketknife before someone’s hand is covering your mouth and dragging you down an isolated street. You fight against him, but he’s stronger than you. You know who it is immediately, but that doesn’t mean you don’t try to struggle. He shoves you against a brick wall and your head hits the wall so hard you see stars for a few moments.

“What the hell are you doing here?” August demands. His eyes are the same shade of aqua that you remember them being. You wish five years had been long enough to forget every detail of what he looked like, but his memory latched onto you like a parasite from the day he walked away.

“What the hell are you doing with a face?” you question back.

He lets go of you as if you burned him. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit--” you begin, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“Why are you following me?”

You scoff. “You were the one following me. You pushed me into this alley. Don’t make me out to be the stalker.”

“What do you want?” His voice is monotone, serious and all-business. Like an agent arranging an agreement with another agent. This is August Walker. You have no doubt about it now.

“Right now, all I want is to go back to where I’m staying and try on my clothes. But after, I’d like to get the hell out of this country now that I know you’re here.”

He narrows his eyes, not believing you.

“You don’t have to believe me.” You shrug your shoulders. “But I want as little to do with you as you do me.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You really think that if I were looking for you, it would take me five years to find you?”

“The CIA hasn’t found me yet. Five years isn’t unreasonable.”

“I’m a much better stalker than the CIA. It would have taken me days, August, not years.” Feeling his name on your tongue makes your heart ache. A lump forms in your throat but you swallow it down.

“My name isn’t August,” he says.

You roll your eyes. Right. There’s no way he would have stayed off the CIA’s radar without a new identity. “Then who the hell are you?” The question is out of your mouth before you realize that you don’t want to hear the answer. You don’t want to know this man in front of you. You can’t know this man--you’ve worked too hard to forget him.

“Henry,” he says after a moment of hesitancy, clearly debating if he should lie to you or not. But you know his tells and watch for them. When you find none, you realize he’s telling the truth. “I’m an actor currently filming a movie here.”

An actor. Makes sense. Government agents practically are actors, what with all the lying and make believe they do on a daily basis.

“Well I’d say it’s nice to meet you Henry, but I don’t want to lie. And honestly, I’m going to do my best to forget I ever saw you in the first place.” You push him away from you and begin to walk away, but he grabs you by the wrist. You turn to face him and scowl. “Let go of me.”

“Henry makes better first impressions than this,” is all he says, not letting go of your wrist. “Let me fix this.”

You resist the urge to laugh. “How the hell do you think you can fix this?”

“Can I start by buying you some dinner?” He finally lets go of you, giving you the choice to either leave or stay.

Go. Go back to that bed-and-breakfast and tell yourself this was all a bad dream. Go while you still can, before anything worse happens.

But your feet stay planted where they are. “I don’t do dinner.”

He actually looks genuinely disappointed.

“But you might be able to talk me into a cup of coffee.”

...

Because it’s already dusk, everyone is at the pubs and not the cafés, but “Henry” knows the owner of what he claims to be the best coffeehouse in town, so they stay open late for the two of you. You sit in a booth in the back of the shop. The place is empty save for the two of you and a worker cleaning up the kitchen.

“How’s Sloane been?” August asks once he’s finished his coffee. He still orders it the same--all black, no sugar. You found out long ago that he drinks it like that to practice maintaining a neutral face.

You take your time sipping on your mocha. “You really think I’m going to spill the beans first?”

You expect him to glare or spit something at you, but instead he chuckles. It surprises you enough to make your eyes bulge. This really isn’t the man you knew at all.

“Alright, let’s make a deal.” He proposes. “I ask you a question and you answer, and then ask me something. But you gotta be honest.”

“I’m not the liar between the two of us,” you point out.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “I’ll be honest too.”

You huff. You don’t want to tell him anything, but you have to admit that there’s a part of you just aching for answers from him. So you say, “Sloane is Sloane. The CIA is the CIA. Nothing has changed in five years.”

He opens his mouth, but it’s your turn, so you speak first.

“What happened to your face?” you wonder.

August rests his hand on his left cheek, as if remembering the scars that used to be there. It’s strange to watch him like this. He’s changed everything about himself, from his personality to his mannerisms. It’s like interacting with a completely different person. “I know a few of the best plastic surgeons in the world. They helped me out.”

“Willingly, or were you holding a gun to their faces?”

He smiles. It looks genuine enough that you can’t tell if it’s forced or not. “Willingly, believe it or not. Now I get two questions.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You invited me for coffee.”

He gives you a look and for a second you can see a flash of August in his impatient eyes. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

You hesitate. But he said honesty on both ends, so you opt for the truth. “We failed our last mission. Remember that one mission we went on, and we had to pretend to be husband and wife to sneak into a crime lord’s penthouse? The one with the orgy?”

Something flashes in his eyes at the memory, but it’s gone before you can decipher it. “Yeah.”

“Remember how it ended?” With me getting shot, you don’t add.

He nods once, looking the most uncomfortable you’ve seen him all night.

“Well, this last mission went about as well as that one,” you admit. “And when I got better, I just... I don’t know. I had this urge to come here. I can’t explain it.”

He holds your gaze for a long time, probably trying to decide if you’re bullshitting him. But you’re not, and he sees that, so he continues, “Why didn’t you tell anyone I was still alive?”

The question takes you by surprise. It’s a good question. You had a chance to tell the world that he’d faked his death, and it would have been a nice revenge after he broke your heart. “I don’t know. I guess it just never occurred to me to do that.”

August gives you a disbelieving look.

“You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me ever again,” you remind him, “and so I did my best to forget you.” There’s no way to hide the emotion in your voice. The feelings you forced down, down, down for years finally poke their heads above the surface. It scares you--the depth of emotion you still have for this man, this complete stranger. You never stopped caring about him, as much as you liked to believe you had, and that scares you enough to make your eyes blur with tears.

That’s probably why he doesn’t ask the question that’s clearly at the forefront of his mind: why didn’t you come after me? And because he doesn’t ask, you don’t have to give him the answer: Because some people just aren’t worth chasing.

“Forget me?” he repeats. “Is that why you gave Hayden away?”

You forget how to breathe. Hayden--you haven’t heard that name in five years. You’ve never heard it spoken outside of doctor’s offices and hospital rooms. “How the hell do you know about him?” But you know the answer before the question has even been spoken.

“I kept tabs on you,” he answers. “When a woman hides herself away for nine months, people talk. The rumors made their way overseas to me. Why the hell didn’t you tell me I have a son?”

“Because you don’t.” Damn these stupid tears. The last thing you want is to cry in front of him. “And neither do I.”

He opens his mouth but you don’t give him a chance to speak.

“I had a son for three days before I gave him to a happy couple that could give him a better life.” You’ve never let yourself think about that day, about the moment you gave up the last thing you had of August. “But he was never yours.”

“So another man got you pregnant?” He asks the question in such a way that tells you he already knows the answer.

“He was never yours because you were never there. You left before he was even a fetus. You were never a father, August.”

He clenches his jaw. You can see how he struggles to hold onto his anger, the anger that August so frequently let loose and Henry struggles to contain. “My name is Henry.”

You don’t bother rolling your eyes. “You really expect me to call you that?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You’re not Henry. You’ve never been anything other than August Walker. The only one you’ve fooled is yourself.”

And then he’s gone, charging out of the coffeehouse like it’s burning down. You don’t stay in your seat long enough to ask yourself if you should follow him before you’re chasing after this ghost of a broken man that’s haunted you for five years. He stops in the alley on the side of the coffeehouse.

“August--” you begin, not quite knowing what you’re going to say to him, but you don’t get the chance.

He spins to face you and the next moment you’re in his arms and he’s shoving you against the side of the building, kissing you like you’re oxygen and he’s been without air for five years. Your back slams into the wall with a hard thud. Yet somehow the pain morphs into searing pleasure and you moan against him. He shoves his tongue inside your mouth as your lips part and his tongue dances with yours in a choreographed movement that neither one of your bodies have forgotten in five years. You’re already wet, already burning intensely for him. The bulge of his erection strains against his jeans and presses against your stomach. You can feel the heat coming off of him in waves, mixing with your own and making it impossible to breathe.

“I’m not having sex with you behind a coffeehouse,” you gasp.

His hands clasp onto your breasts and begin to knead them through your shirt while his mouth moves to your neck, biting you hard enough to make you gasp. Seconds later the pain turns to sweet, sweet pleasure that has your eyes rolling back into your head. “No?” he breathes against your skin. “What about behind a warehouse? Or a clothing store?”

God, he feels so good. This is exactly what you’ve been craving for years. All those times you slept with other guys whose names you can’t remember, you were left unsatisfied by them. No one could please you the way August can. And you know that--in the dark corners of your mind, in the depths of your bones--which is why it’s practically impossible for you to push him away. But you finally do.

“August, I mean it,” you tell him.

He glares back at you. You’ve seen that look before. It’s the look he gets seconds before he puts a bullet in someone’s head. The look terrifies you now, sends a shiver down your spine, but for some ludicrous reason you feel yourself get even wetter.

August moves before you can blink. One second he’s in front of you, surprised that you pushed him away, and the next he has one hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing oh so slightly, and his other hand is inside your pants, inside your underwear, spreading the wet folds of your pussy and circling your clit. By the time your body can register his touch, you’re moaning.

“You don’t want this?” he laughs, the breath tickling your ear. “Then why are you fucking soaked, baby girl?”

That name--oh. With it comes a million memories flying to the surface, memories you’d repressed for years: the way his kisses turned rough and demanding when you first begged him to fuck you; the way he worshipped your body with his hands and mouth, making you cum multiple times before he even fucked you; the feral growl in his voice when he whispered dirty things in your ear that brought you even closer to orgasm. The memories crash into you and you’re helpless, you’re weak, you’re his.

August’s grip around your neck tightens and for a second you can’t breathe. Your vision goes dark as he growls, “Answer me when I’m talking to you.” He loosens his grip on your throat just enough for you to speak.

All you can do is call out his name, a desperate whimper on your lips.

He continues touching you, circling his thumb against your clit while he inserts two fingers inside of you. Your walls clench around his digits and it burns, but fuck it feels good. You cry out in both pain and pleasure. The streets are empty around you and you find yourself grateful that no one can hear the sounds August pulls from you, though you have no doubt he would enjoy an audience if he had one.

“Is this what you want?” he coos at you, clearly basking in the affect he’s having on you already. He curls his fingers inside of you and the movement registers throughout your entire body. “Or do you want me to stop?” He begins to pull his hand away from you.

Both of you know how you’ll respond before you even move. You desperately clutch onto his wrist, not letting his fingers move more than an inch away from your heat. “August, please...” you cry out again, impatient and greedy for his hands, his mouth, his cock--anything and absolutely everything.

“Use your words, baby girl,” he orders.

He wants you to say it. He wants you to beg for him. No, you’re stronger than that. There’s a reason you stayed away from him for five years, just like there’s a reason he never came back--

“I know you missed me,” he says. “I know you missed feeling me buried inside of you, making you moan and scream until you can’t even remember your own name.”

“Did you?” you manage to croak out.

He pauses, the question clearly taking him by surprise. “What?”

“Did you miss me?” you ask again, daring to meet his darkened blue eyes.

He opens his mouth, then abruptly shuts it. His hands are off of you a second later and he moves back like he can’t put enough space between you. Where his eyes had been dark with lust a second ago, they’re now an icy blue. Cold and dangerous. “What kind of game are you playing?”

“I’m playing the game you started five years ago, after the morning you ran for the hills,” you say, suddenly finding your voice. “You ran for a reason.”

“You don’t know what you’re--”

“You ran because you were scared!” you interrupt, not letting him speak over you. “You were scared then and you’re scared now.”

“What the hell do I have to be scared of?” he scoffs.

“Me,” you answer simply. “You’re scared of me because you don’t understand the complexity and depth of the emotions you feel every time you look at me or touch me. I get it, August. I’m scared too.”

He becomes still, so still that you’re not sure if he’s even breathing anymore. He looks more like a statue than a human. Or maybe a scared deer, seconds away from running.

“August, please just listen to me,” you begin in a quiet voice.

“You’re right,” he says suddenly, but he won’t meet your gaze and his eyes are glazed over, like he’s not really here. “Sex behind this coffeehouse probably is unsanitary.”

You open your mouth to reply, but he’s gone before you can get even a word out. Running again, like always. And you’re once again left behind to wonder if he’s worth chasing after.

***

Taglist babes:

@agniavateira​ @hnryycvll​ @littlefreya​ @wanderinglunarnights​ @wednesdaybraids @fcgrizi​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @watermeloncavill​ @honeychicana​ @penwieldingdreamer​ @mary-ann84​ @elixasays​

[onlycags]

Gol (Goal) | Çağlar Söyüncü

Word Count: 2,768

Warnings: just a bunch of mutual pining and angst <3

A/N: I had to write something after Çağs's amazing goal on Saturday and this is what happened. Enjoy xx

- - -

You sat in Çağlar’s hotel room in Turkey, watching the Norway-Turkey match take place at La Rosaleda Stadium in Spain. When he scored the header in the 28th minute, you could feel your heart start to race and your palms start to sweat as you recalled a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear six months ago.

You were supposed to be sleeping, taking a nap on top of your best friend while he lounged on the sofa, playing on his phone. It was natural, something you’d been doing for years, and yet, something felt different about this.

You hadn’t set an alarm, not wanting to be woken up before you were ready, and you were just about to drift off to actual sleep when you felt the sofa shift as someone sat down. Yusuf’s distinct voice came through a few moments later, and you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping. Still, though, you kept your eyes closed in hopes that sleep would come anyway.

“She asleep?” Yusuf asked, and you felt the rumble of Çağlar’s chest as he hummed in the affirmative.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, Cengiz and I have been thinking…” Yusuf trailed off and you felt Çağlar tense up underneath you.

“About…?”

“You and YN.”

Çağlar cursed, and you held your breath. “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not? All of us can see how in love with her you are - just tell her already!”

“Absolutely not. I’m not ruining my relationship with her just because I want more than friendship with her when I know she doesn’t.”

“How do you know that?” Yusuf asked and your blood ran cold. You’d gotten drunk with him recently and you’d confessed to him just how you felt about Çağlar. He’d promised not to say anything, and you hoped he’d keep that promise right now, willing yourself to keep your eyes closed. “You might be surprised.”

You could practically feel Çağlar’s glare at Yusuf. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“I’m just saying - maybe a love confession wouldn’t break your heart.”

Çağlar let out a derisive snort. “I’ll tell her when I score another goal for Turkey.”

Almost three years since his last goal, Çağlar couldn’t believe it when he’d headed that ball into the back of the net against Norway. It was a feeling unlike any other, and it was times like that that he almost missed being a striker and regularly scoring goals. He concentrated on the rest of the match, celebrating with his teammates when the match ended in Turkey’s favour with them on top of their group’s table for the World Cup qualifiers.

“So,” Yusuf started on the plane ride back, “you scored tonight.”

“I did,” Çağlar replied, grinning from ear to ear.

“Does that mean you’re going to tell her now?”

Çağlar’s blood ran cold. In truth, he’d forgotten all about his words to Yusuf six months ago. He thought about them occasionally, but never dwelled on them long enough to do anything about it. Since that day, his feelings for you had only deepened and he’d almost confessed his feelings more than once, but the timing was always off. “We’ll just have to see. I said that not expecting to score for a while.”

“I’m aware,” Yusuf said, nodding solemnly, “but…”

“But nothing.” Çağlar glared at his teammate. “Drop it.”

***

He got back to his place late, smiling to himself when he found you fast asleep on the sofa wearing his jersey. “Hey,” he said softly, placing a gentle hand on your back as you stirred. “I’m home.”

“Hi,” you murmured, turning to face him with a sleepy smile on your face. “Congratulations - that was an amazing goal.”

Çağlar’s stomach dipped. “Thank you. I’m still shocked that I scored, to be honest.”

“It’s long overdue,” you replied, sitting up. Çağlar took a seat next to you and you shifted so you could face him. “I’m so proud of you.”

Çağlar ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide his flustered blush. “Thank you, but no more compliments, please?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re still the only footballer I know who doesn’t let the praise go to his head.” You stood up, stretching. “I’m gonna head to bed unless you wanna stay up and talk?”

Here’s your opening - take it! The voice in his head screamed at him, but Çağlar tamped it down. “No, I’m fine. I’m gonna decompress a bit and then I’ll head to bed myself.” He stood up, pulling you into a hug. “Good night, YN.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you held them off. “Good night, Çağlar.” You made your way to the second bedroom, unsure how to handle the rejection Çağlar didn’t even know he’d just delivered. You sent off a couple texts to Yusuf, letting the tears finally fall when you’d closed your bedroom door.

You: He didn’t say anything.

You: I gave him a chance, and all he said was good night.

Yusuf’s response was quick.

Yusuf: I’m sorry. I tried to see if he was going to say anything tonight, but he just said he’d see - whatever that means

You: apparently it means nothing

You closed your phone, trying to collect all your thoughts and feelings as you got ready for bed. A couple days after overhearing Çağlar’s confession, you’d told Yusuf what you’d heard, unable to keep it to yourself. You’d made him promise not to say anything to Çağlar, though, but now it appeared that his silence was backfiring and you had no one to blame for it but yourself.

***

You didn’t get much sleep that night, tossing and turning as you ran through various scenarios in your head. In some, you confessed everything over breakfast the next morning; in others, you pried a confession out of him, but they all seemed to end the same way: Çağlar telling you that he no longer felt the same way or him denying his feelings and making you feel like a fool.

Çağlar laid awake in bed, trying to figure out his next move. His feelings for you were getting to the point where he knew he only had two options: let go of them and move on, or confess and face the consequences. Neither option appealed to him, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to move on without knowing whether or not you felt the same way about him. Sleep finally came to him when he made his decision and he spent the night dreaming about waking up with you next to him in bed.

***

You were up first, letting Çağlar sleep in after the match and subsequent plane ride back to Turkey that you knew had probably left him exhausted. You took the time to make yourself coffee the Turkish way, pleased when your coffee turned out perfectly. When you’d finished your coffee, you started making breakfast. It was almost a tradition at this point - win, lose or draw, if you were with him, you’d make Çağlar breakfast the morning after a match. This morning was different, though, because you needed to do something with your hands to take your mind off all the emotions running through your head.

Çağlar woke up feeling better than he had in a long time. There was something different about waking up after a win for Turkey, coupled with his goal, that made him feel like he could face anything. Tell her today, the voice in his head nagged, and Çağlar was tempted to take its advice. He just had to follow the smell of coffee and Menemen and see if the moment was right…

The moment was all wrong.

You were in a bad mood by the time Çağlar walked into the kitchen, a mix of not sleeping and overthinking the cause. “Hey,” you said, handing him a warm mug of freshly-made coffee. His fingers brushed yours as he accepted the mug, but you didn’t care at this point, too in your head to care.

“Thanks,” he murmured in Turkish, taking a sip. “How did you sleep?”

You never held anything back from him - Except the obvious, your internal monologue screamed - and you didn’t this time either as you said, “Not great. You?”

“Better than I thought.” Çağlar tilted his head to the side, studying you. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“With you?” You rolled your eyes. “No, thanks.”

Çağlar was confused by your reaction. You usually told him everything and he couldn’t help worrying. “Did I do something wrong?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Forget about it. The food should be ready soon anyway.”

Çağlar reached out, grabbing your wrist. “Talk to me. Please?”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Not about this.”

Çağlar froze. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just let me go, Çağlar.” You pulled your wrist out of his grasp and Çağlar felt there was a double meaning underneath your words, trying to regain equilibrium.

Breakfast was stilted, both of you trying to make what should have been free-flowing conversation over Menemen, but getting nowhere. “I’ve got recovery today and then I’ll be back in time for a late lunch. Everyone was thinking about going out for dinner tonight to celebrate and I want you to come with me. Will you?”

You paused, looking at him over your coffee. “I’ll have to see. I might have a date tonight.”

Çağlar froze at your words, his mouth going dry. “Wh-what?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. It was a complete bluff, but he didn’t need to know that. “Yeah. Like I said, though, I’ll have to see. Can I get back to you?”

“S-sure.”

Çağlar was grateful it was a recovery day, as he couldn’t focus on anything other than your words. He replayed them over and over again, barely managing to make it to TFF Riva on time.

“How did it go last night?” Yusuf asked, not helping Çağlar’s sour mood.

“It didn’t,” he muttered, shedding his clothes and changing into his Turkey sportswear. “And it was a good thing, too, because apparently she has a date tonight and might not be able to make it to the dinner.”

Yusuf cursed, knowing exactly what you were up to. “Did you pry? Did you get any details?”

“No, and I doubt she’d give me any right now. She was in a mood when I woke up and wouldn’t tell me why.”

“If her going on this date tonight bothers you so much, why don’t you tell her so?”

“Absolutely not. She’s made her feelings for me perfectly clear.”

Yusuf let out a frustrated grunt. “How could she when you didn’t even tell her how you felt about her?!”

“It’s not my fault! I woke up this morning with the intention of telling her, but then she was upset and it wasn’t the right time.”

“There’s never going to be a ‘right time’. You’re either going to tell her how you feel or let her slip through your fingers.” Yusuf rolled his eyes. “I’m telling the rest of the team that you’re not allowed to come to dinner unless you provide proof that you’ve told her how you feel.”

“You wouldn’t.” Çağlar glared at his teammate who just gave him a smug look in return.

“I would and I will. And I’ll go straight to Burak and tell him, and you know he’ll have the final say.”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“Look who’s talking.” Yusuf softened, taking pity on his teammate. “Really, Çağlar, it’s not going to be that bad.”

“You keep talking like you know something,” Çağlar said, giving him another scrutinizing look.

“Just intuitive is all.”

***

Çağlar was drained by the time he got back to his place. It felt suffocating and all he wanted to do was suggest going out to lunch, but he also didn’t want to confess his feelings and get rejected in public, so staying home it was.

“Are you in a better mood?” He asked, approaching you with caution.

You laughed, nodding. “I think so. You’re not gonna try to get me to talk about it again, are you?”

“No, I promise. Did your date get rescheduled?”

You paused, completely having forgotten about the lie you’d told earlier. “Uh…”

Çağlar shook his head, his jaw tight. “It’s fine.”

You glared at him. “It clearly isn’t. What’s wrong, Çağlar?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me - I know you better than that.”

“Oh, like you haven’t been lying to me all day?” Çağlar spat, the words coming out before he could stop them. He was angry and hurt and couldn’t hold it in any longer. “You think I didn’t know?” He asked, laughing derisively. “I know you better than that.”

Him throwing your words back at you stung. “Fuck you! I have my reasons.”

“Please enlighten me, then, because I keep wracking my brain to try to figure out what I did wrong, but I don’t know!”

“That’s the problem: you haven’t done anything!” You spat, your eyes welling with tears. You spoke again, your voice softer as you said, “You haven’t done anything, and I’ve been waiting for you to say something. I thought you were going to tell me when you got home last night after you scored but you didn’t. Then I thought you were going to tell me at breakfast, but still - nothing.” You paused, your eyes searching his face for any hint of emotion but finding nothing. You decided to risk it all, playing all your cards at this moment, not having anything to lose anymore. “‘I’ll tell her when I score another goal for Turkey’. Those were your exact words six months ago.” At Çağlar’s shocked expression, you continued. “I was awake for that whole conversation with Yusuf, but I didn’t say anything because I’d hoped you’d come to your senses and realize I felt the same way. I’d hoped you’d tell me before you scored, but you didn’t. Then you scored yesterday and I hoped and prayed you’d tell me last night but then you didn’t. I don’t know what to do anymore, Çağlar. Do you not want me like that anymore? It’s okay if you don’t, but I need to know because this is killing me.”

“I do! I do want you like that.” His voice cracked when he said your name and you realized he was just as tortured about this as you were. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. You gave me that opening last night but I didn’t want to have you reject me and go to bed lonely. This morning, you were so upset and the time wasn’t right, especially when you brought up having a date tonight. I want you. I want you so badly it’s been killing me not to be able to wake up with you in my arms or kiss you the way I’ve wanted to for months now.” He took a few steps toward you and you did the same, meeting him in the middle. His hands found your waist, his forehead pressing against yours as he muttered, “It’s always been you. Always.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your heart practically beating out of your chest. “Please, just kiss me already, Çağlar.”

You felt his kiss down to your toes, the underlying hint of need to the tentative kiss igniting a fire inside you. You pressed your body flush against his, trying to get as close to him as you could. Kissing him was better than you had ever imagined, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands explored your body.

“What about your date tonight?” Çağlar asked, bringing you out of your head.

“There isn’t one,” you confessed, breathless. “I just said that hoping you’d finally say something.”

Çağlar let out a low growl, pinning you against the wall. “You fucking tease.”

“Hopefully I’ll get to be your date to the dinner tonight, though,” you said, looking at him expectantly.

“Tabikide.” Of course.

***

The two of you barely made it to the dinner on time, busy making up for lost time. You spent what felt like hours just straddling him on the sofa, kissing him and exploring every inch of his torso. Çağlar had promised to fuck you after the team dinner and neither of you could wait.

“Well?” Burak asked, looking expectantly at you and Çağlar when the two of you entered the restaurant.

Without a word, Çağlar put his hands on your hips, spinning you into him so he could kiss you over the sounds of the team cheering for the two of you.

[drowning-in-dennor]

Awarded

The Prix draws to a close, and it is time for the dancers to reap the rewards of their week of hard work. [A continuation of this.]

  As the rest of the dancers finish up their variations, Henrik takes his friend (or are they boyfriends now?) down to the theatre cafe. They split a chocolate muffin, stuck in their costumes and stage makeup until the prize-giving ceremony is over. Stellan clearly has forgotten about this fact, because halfway through eating, he gets a smear of dark chocolate across his cheek. He glares at Henrik while getting a napkin to wipe it off.

 “Who do you think are going to be the prize winners?” Henrik asks.

 “The Prix’s been all that’s on my mind this past seven days. Can we talk about something else?”

 “Okay then.” He racks his brains for a topic. “What if you told me about yourself?”

 Stellan gapes at him. “What?”

 “We literally kissed each other ten minutes ago, and I don’t know anything about you that isn’t related to dance.” Henrik leans forward. “Where in Norway are you from? What’s your favourite colour? I want to learn about the guy behind the dancer.”

 Setting down his mug of coffee, he answers, cheeks slightly pink, “I live in Trondheim, and I’ve only left three times — twice for summer intensives in Stockholm and Oslo, and once for this. Um…” Stellan pauses for a moment. “My favourite colour is blue. Now you answer those questions.”

 Henrik smiles and nibbles at his muffin. “I live in Odense and I go to the branch of the Royal Danish Ballet School there. And my favourite colour is red.” Then he prompts, “ask me some questions.”

 He takes another drink from his mug. “Let’s see.” He blinks up at him, big blue eyes captivating as always. “Do you have any siblings other than Berwald?”

 “Nope, he’s the only one. He’s a total weirdo who was pretty much useless this week, but I would die for him. How about you?”

 “I have a younger brother, too. Harald is twelve and trains at my studio with me.” Stellan blinks. “I brought the topic back to dance again. I’m sorry.”

 “No, no, it’s fine.” Henrik folds up his muffin wrapper. “It’s my turn to ask, anyway. What’s your favourite subject in school?”

 “I’ve always loved literature, and sometimes I consider being an author as a second job. How about you?”

 “My favourite subject is music,” Henrik says. “I always thought it was a bit boring until I started learning the cello.”

 That gets his attention. “You play the cello?”

 “I’m not very good at it, since I’ve only been playing for two years, but yeah.”

 “I’d love to hear you play one day,” Stellan adds.

 He can feel his cheeks prickle with heat. “Thanks.”

 “It’s my turn to ask..” Stellan thinks for a moment. “When’s your birthday? Mine is the seventeenth of May.”

 “My birthday is on the fifth of June,” he replies. “They’re not too far apart.”

 After that question, the two of them fall into an easy silence. Henrik goes on his phone, occasionally glancing up at Stellan. He’s stunning even when idle, one dainty hand playing with his fine soft hair while he watches something on his phone. Henrik gets away with looking at him until an alarm suddenly goes off.

 The sound makes them both jump. Stellan turns off the alarm and drains his mug of coffee. “The prize-giving ceremony is in five minutes.”

 He already knows he won’t be getting an award. Surely, that honour will go to another of the twenty finalists. But no matter — being a finalist isn’t half-bad, either. Henrik wipes his mouth and follows his fellow dancers towards the stage area.

 They line up in two rows, facing the jury as well as the many people below the stage. The Prix’s artistic director is giving a speech of some sort, a thick stack of envelopes — each one containing a prize — in her hands. She passes them to the head of the jury, and he begins by announcing the winner of the “Best Swiss Candidate” award — that goes to 101, Erika Zwingli.

 Two more prizes are given away before the main event starts. The head of the jury takes the envelope holding the name of the eighth scholarship winner.

 Eighth place goes to Sandor, who half-stumbles his way towards centre stage. He clearly wasn’t expecting to win a prize. His shocked smile rivals the spotlight shining above them in brightness.

 Seventh, sixth, fifth and fourth place are announced, but none of those titles go to either of them. But then the artistic director reads off the third-place winner: “Stellan Grieg, dumber 407!”

 He rushes out to bow to the audience’s cheers, practically glowing beneath the lights. Stellan takes the envelope that proves his talent and goes to stand next to the rest of the prize winners.

 After the second and first prizes are awarded, the curtains close. Everyone drops their composed masks and rush to congratulate the winners. Henrik approaches Stellan, sweeping into a mock-bow. “I knew you could do it.” He tires to press down the disappointment welling up inside him.

 “I wish you could’ve won a prize too.” Stellan runs his fingers over the envelope. “Your performance really was nice.”

 “Too bad they’ve got that rule,” Henrik agrees. “Imagine how much of a power couple we’d be if we were both prize winners.”

 “We can still be a power couple.” Stellan places his hand on his arm, playing with the golden sequins on the sleeve. “Seeing how you’re the only Danish candidate here, I’d say you’re the best the nation has to offer.”

 He grins. “So you admit I’m good?”

 “Well…” He half-pouts up at Henrik.”I suppose you’d have to have a bit of talent to make it to the finals.”

 “Aw, that was almost a compliment.”

 “Don’t expect any more.”

 Somewhere across the stage, one of the prize winners bursts into laughter, her arm around a finalist’s shoulder. Henrik speaks above them. “Well, the finalists get prizes too.”

 “If I remember correctly, you get a cash prize, right?”

 “And bragging rights.” He momentarily gets distracted by the sight of his brother emerging from backstage, looking around in search of somebody. “I’m a special finalist, though, so I also won a boyfriend.”

 That gets a smile from Stellan. “A prize like that comes with a lot of perks. Let me demonstrate.”

 Before Henrik can question anything, Stellan grabs his wrist and pulls him down for a kiss.

…

 The Prix is over. Everyone is saying their goodbyes, snapping photos left and right. Henrik finds Stellan sitting by a window, trembling slightly while bundled up in a scarf.

 “Don’t have a jacket?”

 “Left it at the hotel.” He rubs his arms. “And I can’t dance to warm up.”

 Henrik sits next to him and wraps an arm around his waist. Outside of the studio, he hardly looks like a glacial ice prince. The tip of his nose is red and his hair ruffled, and he’s never looked so adorable.

 Wordlessly, Stellan nuzzles up to him. “You’re warm.”

 His heart skips a beat when he places his head down on his shoulder. “Which school are you planning to choose?”

 Stellan plays with the tassels on his scarf. “I have a month to make my choice, but my teacher and I have already decided.” He raises his head and looks at Henrik. “We both agree I’d do best at the Royal Danish Ballet School.”

 “The Royal — “ He starts. “That’s my school.”

 “Yes, that’s quite obvious.” He pokes Henrik in the nose. “And I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m so sweet, picking this school just to spend time with you. But I’ll have you know I didn’t just choose the Royal Danish because you go there.” Stellan places his head back on his shoulder. “My teacher wants me to keep training in the Bournonville method, and your school is the best place for that. Your happening to go there as well was merely a secondary factor.”

 Henrik presses his nose to Stellan’s forehead. “If you say so. I’m still excited to be training alongside you, though.”

 “As am I.” He takes Henrik’s hand. “We won’t be apart for long, too. I’ll see you in person again this September.”

 “Oh, don’t talk about separating just yet.” He dares to kiss the crown of his head. “Your flight is at one, so we still have a few hours together. I want to make the most of them.”

[glgaming835]

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[depressedtransguy]

okay so if you’re not @thedragonemperess and you read this I’ll drop my cat off at your house in the middle of the night so he can scratch at your door like a demon and drool all over your face

More and more blood smeared across Loki's hands as he tried to use something, anything, to stop the liquid from pouring out of Stephen's chest. Bandages slipped through his fingers as he spawned more and more, compressing them down to soak until they were completely red. Spells upon spells were cast to no avail. He tried everything from ice to fire and from Earth remedies to Asgardian magic. But it wasn't working. 

Tears slipped out from the god's glassy emerald eyes and splashed down onto one of the Rings of Raggadorr spread out below them as he heard his husband's breath only getting shallower and shallower every time he inhaled and exhaled. "Loki, stop," he roughly groaned, raising his trembling arm up to wrap around his wrist and pull it away from his body. "It's not going to help." 

"Well I have to do something!" the god of mischief choked out, more water rolling down his cheeks, his hands shaking harder and harder. "This is not how the greatest sorcerer supreme since the beginning of time goes out, struck down by some second rate monster attempting to do nothing more but devour a few trillion beings." 

A low chuckle came from Stephen's abused abdomen and he tilted his head slightly to make eye contact. "They didn't strike you darling." 

The god couldn't even stabilize his hands anymore, the held back sobs coming out in other ways. "Not the time, Stephen," he managed to hiss. 

With a small squeeze to his wrist, he comforted, "Your hands are shaking as badly as mine do. Relax darling, it's okay." 

"You think this is fucking okay?!" A small prick to his emotions was all it took for it all to come pouring out at once. "This was fine, IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FINE!" His voice trembled and cracked like crazy. Loki raised a bright red hand away from his husband's blood soaked robes, pressing it to his own chest and biting down so hard on his lip it bled. "This was supposed to be fine Stephen. A simple mission we were given a fortnight ago to save a few planets from some interdimensional beast. Nothing extreme, we deal with this all the time, and this should have probably lasted about two days tops. It's been two weeks. I watched you wave our daughter goodbye as we left for Kamar-Taj. She waved back. Our son told you to come back alive. You agreed. So you're going to fucking come back alive Stephen, do you understand me?" 

Stephen didn't immediately respond. The sound and sight of his husband's sobbing and the pain was most likely both strangling his vocal cords, making him able to do nothing except slip their hands into place and link their fingers. "It is okay Loki. It is. Everyone has a time. Death is what gives life meaning." 

"Stop talking like that!" Loki begged, leaning forward until his body was racking with sobs right over Stephen's bloody one. "This isn't your time. We still have so much left to do. Frigga's only 25 in human years, she has so many more milestones to reach, and we're going to be there for her. And Anthony, he's just my age when we first met, we're going to be there for him too. Plus, you promised we'd grow old together baby. And you haven't broken a promise to me yet." 

Yes, Loki was obviously being selfish. But he couldn't give two shits. Stephen was not leaving him. "I'll still be there for you, always. I'll see Frigga grow. I'll see Anthony grow. I'll see you grow. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay," Stephen whispered, summoning the last bits of strength he had left in his body to raise up his hand not currently holding Loki's and yank his time stone necklace off, then pressing it into his open palm. Next he gently slipped his fingers into his beginning to gray hair and then brought him down to where he was lying to press their lips together. 

It almost felt like the first time they kissed. 

Now that was a while ago. A little over 1,500 years, just based on their daughter's age. Loki didn't remember the exact year. But he did remember that it was five months after Ragnarok. After the Asgardians settled in Norway, the god started visiting the sorcerer supreme more and more just out of plain boredom--but that quickly changed into because they both wanted to see the other. It only took a power outage and a fire to make them admit it and kiss softly by the tamed flames.

They were so young then. So much had changed. 

Yet Stephen's lips still felt the same against his. That had never wavered through the years. It's how their fights ended. How battles ended. What they did before they fell asleep at night. No matter what happened, how they grew and changed as people, Stephen and his kisses never left. 

Until now. 

But... maybe this last one would be enough. 

"I love you," the sorcerer supreme rasped against his lips. "No matter what--never forget that." 

Loki reluctantly bobbed his head lightly and gave him a sad smile, his heart cracking to see the pain laced in his gray eyes and on every line on his face. But that would be gone. He'd be in a better place: one without pain, without the haunting past, without the weight of the universe on his shoulders. He'd get to rest. "I love you too darling. More than I ever thought I could love another being." He took a small shuddering sigh before continuing. "Thank you, thank you for giving me a life that I doubt I would have reached without you. You were the one who let me rest for the first time in my life. And now it's my turn to return the favor." 

"Oh Dewdrop, thank you. I couldn't have asked for a better partner to spend my time with. You and Frigga and Anthony. I love you all with more heart than I ever thought I had." 

The strain in his voice was only getting worse, making it clear that he didn't have much time left. Last word time. So Loki swallowed all the trembling and fear and cracks to properly dismiss his husband. "You gave me a reason to live. A reason to wake up in the morning and actually face the world. And for that... I will forever be grateful. I love you. And I will never forget you." 

Their lips were pressed together once more to seal the pact of love and acceptance that flowed between them, recognizing that this would be their last time together until Loki entered Valhalla himself. Souls touching for one last time. 

Soon enough, Loki felt the body underneath his slowly ebb away from existence, Stephen turning to gold dust to become one with the universe where he belonged. He could clearly tell when there was nothing against him anymore, nothing but air. But he still sat there for a few minutes, reveling in the moment. Testing to see if everything would drop and the event would just be revealed to be some crazy lucid dream he had. He still had that thought in the back of his head that he would wake up any moment with Stephen's arms wrapped around his waist despite previous embracing of the situation. But when he finally peeled open his lids and stared down at the infinite space below the magic ring--he knew that this was real. And Stephen was dead.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Five : Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

After a few harrowing days, we tie up loose ends and answer questions, while Anti goes searching for answers in a less orthodox way.

Trigger warnings for sudden distress, physical abuse and restraint, mentions of cutting and blood (not self-inflicted), and emotional manipulation.

Section Five of Chapter Three: Two Truths and a Lie

Okay I usually try to save questions I don’t get to for the next time I get to the boys but we’re just going to have some miscellaneous question time lol so I can clean out my inbox! you can ask anybody anything right now. I’ll probably just clear everything out and then later or tomorrow I’ll set a scene

I do think I want to come back towards more casual answering like we used to at the start, so if I start answering questions at more random times instead of like in two-hour chunks bear with me :)

Except Trick he’s not taking questions D:

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dap! You feeling any better?

Dap is still cozied up in his blankets, holding you between his pale palms as he rouses himself. He sets you down on his lap.

“Feel very tired,” he confesses. “But not so much in the no-energy way. More like the no-interest way.”

“No interest in what?” asks Red softly, coming over off-screen to set a cup of water on his bedside table. Dapper doesn’t answer, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

“Glad your color’s up,” says Red, though you can hear the frown in his voice. “You come back much quicker than Blue, honestly. Maybe you didn’t use as much power as I thought?”

Dapper shrugs and his stomach growls, but he doesn’t complain.

Anonymous asked: Hey boys

“Hi,” waves Dapper, smiling for you. “How are you, camera?”

Red chuckles and shuffles around the room.

“It talks to me,” signs Dapper dreamily. “Lots of voices. Cameras, brothers, bears, empty rooms. It talks to me.“

aether-mae asked: Magicians! can you either tell us your location, or tell us a location near you? Are you still in Peru?

“We are in Peru,” says Emmanuela. “It may not be safe to be more specific than that.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What are you two up to?

“I’ve got to go get him some breakfast here in a minute,” murmurs Red, coming to set you on the desk in the corner of the square little room, so you can see them better. There’s water damage making the ceiling sag and Dapper scratches on a little red bite on his neck, hugging his filthy white bear to his chest.

“I shouldn’t have spent so much on getting a room for a couple days,” sighs Red. “But he needed to lie down. And I have to admit it’s nice not sleeping on the street for a night.”

spicydanhowell asked: dap, red, when you're up, have you noticed maybe some churches or other places in local communities that have food donations? or actually, all kinds of fruit grow in peru. if you can find some kind of garden or orchard, you could snag some fruit when nobody's around. either of these would be a lot better than shoplifting or robbing houses :(

“You’re probably right,” mumbles Red morosely, dragging his hands through his hair. “I don’t trust those food donation places though. Fucking cops could be hanging out. Scumbags. Worse than American cops, here. Maybe.”

“That only happened once,” says Dapper. “Now you’re paranoid.”

“What?”

“It only happened once,” repeats Dapper, frowning. “That the cop followed you home after you went to get food from the nuns. And then Anti handled it. You’re paranoid.”

Red pauses, his mouth opening and shutting once.

“Dap… bud, you know I don’t remember farther back than Norway, right?”

Dapper doesn’t say anything, picking at the dirt on his bear’s ears.

“There’s no gardens around here that I know of, we’re right in the middle of this ugly city and everything’s apartment buildings and run-down businesses. I’m going to try and find a restaurant that throws stuff out or something before I steal anything, I guess. But I’m scared to be out in public and I just… I just wish we had…”

He kneads his thumb into his palm and goes quiet, his head down from the weight of it all.

cest-mellow asked: hey dok! how are you feeling with the magicians now? any safer than before?

He slept in his own bed tonight, curled up beneath the covers, but when he comes back to you, he looks upset, maybe even tearful.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, holding you very tight again, rubbing at his wrists. “But I woke up afraid today and I - I - ”

He pauses, staring around him, his mouth shuddering.

“I don’t know, I felt safe yesterday, but I’m worried they did something to my head.”

He pushes his palm against the side of his skull and closes his eyes, biting down hard on his lip.

“Don’t know what kind of powers they have,” he whimpers. “What sort of things they could make me think. I never trust anybody but my family anymore… one time Anti said I could go to the synagogue, but I was too scared even to go… everybody is a threat.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: They've made a vow to us that they won't harm you, Dok. Don't be afraid :) we got your back

Dok breathes out a low sigh and swallows.

“Okay. Okay. They haven’t hurt me yet. Or the ones I’ve met, anyway. I don’t think that Old Man likes me, JP said… and the medic girl, she doesn’t like me. I don’t want her to touch me.”

He wraps his arms around himself.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What have you been doing to keep busy, Dok?

“I sleep… I’m so tired. I haven’t really been… coherent enough to do much of anything this last week, but now…”

He chuckles, rubbing his arms. “Well, I confess a little boredom, but that’s the least of my worries, really.”

cest-mellow asked: magicians, did you guys do something to dok’s head?

The magicians seem to have found a way to share JP’s little network for your messages across devices, because you find yourself looking through a phone camera at Genesis and Hermann.

“Oh, yay, it is working,” he says.

“To his head?” asks Genesis.

“Oh, no, no, certainly not,” says Hermann. “What, hit him or hypnotize him or something like that? No, he’s okay. Is he scared of that?”

“It’s not surprising for him to be confused,” says Genesis.

And then, after a moment, she adds, “It was the same way with me, when I started to realize I hated my parents. It’s like - what, am I really thinking these things? Is this really all true? I think it would have been almost a relief to wonder if someone was hypnotizing me, so I didn’t have to admit what I was thinking.”

Hermann gives her privacy to say it, turning away and busying himself with whatever they’re working on. A moment later, he straightens up with his arms laden with bags and boxes and a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

“Good news, though,” he says, smiling at you. “We finished going through all the things they had in the car, so now the medico can see everything that didn’t seem dangerous. Do you think he’ll like having his stuff back?”

“We think this is his,” adds Genesis, holding up Dok’s nice white doctor’s coat. “Yeah?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Where'd you find that? I'm sure he'll love to have it back!

“They left their car behind,” says Genesis. “So everything that wasn’t on the backs of the others is with us now!”

nikkilbook asked: Could have sworn Marvin had a Lapwing tattoo...? Pretty sure he was in the Irish order. And just in case, check for the name “Marvin McLoughlin.” Not sure if that’s the one, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

“Oh, I do,” mumbles Blue.

You find him laid out in a new bed, dressed in white, looking very tired, but cozy beneath his covers.

“Yes, I think that’s what it is. A lapwing. I don’t remember well…”

———————

“Oh, Lapwing,” says JP, nodding at his computer. “Oh, excellent. Oh, perfect, thank you, thank you. An Irish magician. I will find him.”

Anonymous asked: Hello Marv, how are you feeling?

“A little zoned out,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “They gave me something different. I don’t mind, though. It calmed me down. Now I’m not so upset. I felt like I couldn’t even handle last night. But now I’m just drifting…”

He shivers, once.

“I’m just scared of what Anti will do to me… to Trick…”

bupine asked: what else was in the car, magicians?

“Well, we did find some creepy stuff,” confesses Hermann, frowning. “Like… masks and stuff.”

“Chains.”

“Yeah, things to torture people, you know, like - blowtorch?”

“Yeah, that’s the word. And this weird electric set-up. Like these bars that could shock you. Really fucked up stuff.”

“But then the rest of it is just normal stuff!” Hermann puts his hand in one of the boxes and rifles through. “Games, toys, books, art stuff. Mostly clothes!”

“We’ll let the medico look through the rest of it.”

bupine asked: hey anti, is trick ok?

Anti glances up at you, a warning in his eyes.

He’s sitting on his bed, eating cold red curry out of the take-out box while he works on his computer. It looks to be late afternoon with that much light coming in the window.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t move you, either, and you can see a figure laid out in the bed beside him, his messy hair fluffed against the pillows, breathing deep and steady as he sleeps.

aether-mae asked: Hey magicians, i was wondering if we could lead the other brothers who are also separated from the demon to you. Is there a location we could ask them to meet you at?

“Oh, please do,” begs Hermann, eyes wide. “Please bring the other boys here. We would really keep them safe, I do promise. I�� I don’t know where we could meet them, I’d have to ask Emmanuela.”

“Good look convincing them,” mumbles Genesis, looking unconvinced, but sad too, because she knows even better than Hermann the way that they were living.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: You need to take care of him, Anti. He can't deal with your crap, okay?

Anti chooses to type his answers back to you. Actually, he doesn’t look to be typing at all, but his words show up on your screen nevertheless.

“What about this makes you think I’m not taking care of him?”

scunneredzombie asked: Y'know Anti... as horrid as all the things you're doing are, I'm starting to notice something. In your own weird way, you really do adore your brothers. You've said before you're incapable of love but, honestly? I doubt that. You love them. You want family just as much as they do. Why not give it to them, Anti? Why do you have to hurt them, why not allow you all to be a family? A normal, healthy, family?

Anti’s mouth opens angrily, and then he blushes dark, realizing he’s been caught red-handed showing mercy to one of his puppets.

“I do not adore him,” he sends you, eyes flashing. “He’s a guard dog. But if you want to believe I’m secretly a soft, loving, lonely little boy, hey - go right the fuck ahead.”

He smiles meanly at you.

“Family is a manipulation tactic. Trickshot is a pet.”

Anonymous asked: “What about this makes you think I’m not taking care of him?” Because you're you. Do we even have to elaborate?

“I can be nice,” types Anti, and gives you a mocking smile.

Trick shifts on the bed next to him and Anti’s face returns to apathetic concentration, putting another chopstick-full of curry in his mouth.

“Anti,” mumbles Trick, half asleep. Anti reaches back without looking to rub his back and Trick sighs warmly.

Anonymous asked: Magos, your goal is admirable, but you should know that it's futile on its current course. Do any of you have phones? Computers? Radios, even? Do you ever leave base? Do you have family, friends, with those things who live off-base? Then you're not secure enough to hide from the demon. He'll find you all, kill you all, and take Dok back for himself. If you can't find and save ALL the brothers soon, you'd just as well drop Dok off where the demon can find him, and maybe you'll survive longer.

Genesis has a fight in her eyes and she opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Hermann is speaking, louder than you’ve ever heard him.

“Well, maybe so!” he says, scattering the birds from the trees.

He puts his head down and repeats it.

“Maybe so. Maybe the monster will find him again. Maybe the monster will find us and take him away. But I think… I think a week, two weeks, a month of being treated like a human being, as long as we can give him or his brothers being treated like a human being, with kindness, with respect, with basic needs - that…”

He nods his head, slow.

“That is worth it. That is worth whatever happens. That is a cause to die for. You hear about tragedies, sometimes, from afar, and so many people must have felt so hopeless… alone, even as they died. A moment of mercy is worth it. Maybe I can’t save them, but… I can help. I know that the magician is alive because of me. And that was worth it. I believe that, I do.”

He stares at the floor for a moment, and then, a little reddened from the passion of it, he turns to smile at Genesis and mumbles something about bringing Dok the first of his things before turning to shuffle away.

Genesis shoots you a look.

“Hermann is a man of God,” she says. “But I will fuck your shit up! Your monster was a little bitch on the shore of that river, there, I said it! Ran with his tail between his legs! Fuck it! We’re going to do the best we can. And if that doesn’t work, well, I’ll leave it to over-invested poets like that dumb-ass to make it okay.”

She beams fondly after Hermann and scoops up the rest of the boxes and backpacks, but as she moves, you see the smile on her face flicker away into worry.

Anonymous asked: Hermann, I think the glitch might be hiding somewhere in Asia, from what I can see.

“Oh, tell Emmanuela!” calls Hermann, when Genesis catches up to him.

“Oh, I don’t remember what JP said about sending the messages.”

“There’s like a button that - that one?”

“I don’t - oh, and then, Emmanuela - oh, it’s gone!”

“Is it with her?”

“Is it - yeah, I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

They pause, looking at each other.

“I’ll text her,” says Genesis.

—————————

You find Emmanuela in a small white office, flowers blooming on the shelf beside her. She’s writing something. She barely looks up as the message reaches her computer.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says.

The dark sheen of her hair glows in the morning light, falling down her back.

“You were right to mention it. You seem to be right. The sunbirds were a young order. Small and intimate. Not someone I’ve communicated with before, but someone I know of. Caleb was their leader’s name.”

She pauses for a moment in her writing. Her expression does not change. She stares ahead.

“The sunbirds are dead,” she says, and continues her work.

immabethehero asked: Red, Dap, if we said we could get you somewhere safe and off the streets, but away from Anti, would you take it?

Red glances at the camera, his eyebrow quirking up, a deep frown on his mouth.

“That sounds suspicious,” he says, getting a cup for water. “And I’m trying to get back to Anti, not farther away from him.”

He can’t keep a little irritation out of his voice.

bupine asked: we kind of do know why anti stole the brothers away. it's to do with a man called jack, who anti used to be friends with. we think he's still alive, but even anti doesn't know where he is. the brothers used to be friends with him. we don't know what happened to him, but all this revolves around this man.

“Hm, okay,” says JP, working at his computer, books stacked around him. He stretches his wrists, thinking. “I guess I could look for a Jack in the Lapwing records too. Ireland has a large magical order, though, even bigger than the whole of Peru.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Blue? Trick is... taking a social media break from us so we can't talk to him. I'm sorry he didn't take things well but you're right in taking care of yourself first. We need you to have your head on straight and you're heading in the right direction and we support that. We'll help you however we can.

“A social media break,” says Blue, and a laugh starts before the rest of the message registers.

“What… he won’t even talk to you?”

He pauses, staring at the wall.

“Give him time,” he mumbles finally, grief in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll… I’m sure he’ll come around, right?”

For a moment, there is nothing but the movement of footsteps in the hall and the buzzing of the lights.

And then, weakly:

“He didn’t… come to see me this morning. He comes to see me every morning… so I’m not alone all day.”

Swish, swish, click. Footsteps past his door. Thrumming lights. The largeness of his room and the smallness of himself inside of it. He rubs his own arm.

bupine asked: we're not trying to hurt trick, anti. we just want to know he's alright. how has he been? he won't talk to us anymore.

“Oh, I know you’re not,” types Anti, now not even looking at you, playing with Trick’s hair. Trick hums contentedly and scoots closer to Anti, relief so great it looks painful flickering through his face. “I know how attached you are to all of them. Some more than others, sure. But I know.”

He scratches his hand across Trick’s scalp. There’s a faint meowing outside the door, confused.

“He just needs a rest. Not like him to come begging to me, so I know he must have been really upset. Dok’s not here to comfort the little baby, so I’ll have to.”

Anti pauses, scratching beside Trick’s ear, humming a little as the light pours in. A big pink flower blooms on the headboard, but Anti hardly seems to notice.

“Then again, it is nice to have someone all sweet to myself again. I miss sleeping with my Dapper. And Trick is just so - ”

The typing pauses. Trick has slid an eye open, staring wearily, brokenly, lovingly up at Anti.

Anti runs his thumb down his face. He looks so much like him. Anti had almost forgotten. It’s been a long time since he spared Trick a glance. It used to upset him, the similarity there. But now…

Anti scratches gently through his beard, watching his boy. Maybe he’ll cut his hair today.

aether-mae asked: Dok! You need to get the magicians to find Red. We can try and get his location as best we can but we need to get him to you asap before he can get to anti

Dok recoils, holding his shoulders. “What - lead Red here? No, no, no, Red should be with Anti. We all should. I should be with Anti. Nobody here understands! Even if they are nice, they don’t understand and they never will! And Red - Red killed one of them. If there are people here who don’t like me, I can only imagine what they might think of him. No, no, keep him far away. I bet it’s easier for Anti to find him if he’s not here. Anti will get Red and then Anti will get me, too, and everything will be okay.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: How do you all protect yourselves from attacks? Do you even get attacked, magicos?

“Ah, well,” says JP, continuing to type. “We’re in a very secure location, I can tell you that. It’s hidden in more ways than one. No one has ever attacked us at our home base, except one time when she was young Juana was possessed! But that hasn’t happened since. Something would have to get inside that was already a threat. And to be fair, there are quite a few powerful magicians here. Emmanuela, Christof - ”

He blanches and cuts himself down, a sudden grief twisting up his mouth.

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti can you let Trick feed his cat please? I know you won't do it but someone should.

“He feeds that cat just fine. It can wait another half hour for him to wake up.”

He is smiling down at Trick, watching him drift sleepily besides him. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so fond of him. Been too long since he had Dapper. Or anybody. He’s just been watching Blue sleep all week. Trick doesn’t even know you’re there, and Anti does not give it away.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you're going through a fucking lot right now. I can't imagine what it's like for you. But! What I can imagine is you at least getting to see everyone again! Don't ask me how, but I know there are currently people (good and safe people) out there researching on what's happened, how to help you, and even who you used to be. Please don't give up, there is hope out there, and we'll do our best to support you and let you know what's going on with your brothers.

Blue clasps his hands together, nodding slowly, too tired to cry.

“Thank you. I’m… I’ll do my best.”

He rubs at his face and breathes out a shuddering breath.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue? Do you trust the magicians??

“I don’t know,” he says, very small and very tired. “I don’t know anything anymore. Magicians are just people. And people can always turn out to be hateful. I don’t know.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, please just let Trick rest for the night... He feels really dejected because Blue wouldn't come with him, as you see, and he's really not doing well without any brothers, besides yourself, to help take care of and to live with.

“I think it has been hard for him, being away from everyone,” agrees Anti. “So needy.”

He smiles, but then a flash of anger rises on his face.

“Of course, that’s why Blue was supposed to come home. So Trick could have someone to take care of and be taken care of by. Guess I’ll just have to keep him in line myself.”

spicydanhowell asked: hey red? anti's actually quite close to finding dok, and the magicians have kept him healthy and fed, so if you go to them they will give you protection from the police, food, and medicine, and anti will come get you soon, And dok is missing you both so much :( anti will never find you if you run around like this. the magicians are really harmless. it would be best for dap to go there right now so he can be fed and medicated and get back to anti quickly. love you hunny, be safe.

Red squirms, standing close to Dap protectively. “I don’t know what they would do to a kid as powerful as him,” he says. “And even if they’re nice to Dok, we - we both hurt them. I killed that guy with the book and Dapper stabbed one and tortured the other.”

Dapper stares at his bear, seeming to not even hear.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it. I don’t - I just - I just want to go back to Anti!” He clutches his fists, overwhelmed. “And we can’t go anywhere now anyway. We don’t have a way to travel until I get more money and I got this place for another couple nights. As long as the cops don’t find us. And I think I’m even more wanted in Peru than I am here. I just - I want - ”

He cuts himself off again, biting down on his lip.

spicydanhowell asked: marv, chase is just sleeping, okay? i think he's really worn out from all the emotion. he's okay though. anti is being kind to him. he hasn't been punished. please don't worry dear.

“Oh, good,” breathes Blue, closing his eyes. “He’s not hurt. And maybe - maybe he’ll come see me when he wakes up. If Anti lets him. He wouldn’t choose not to come see me…”

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling right now Marvin? It might be good to get it out there if you're feeling up to it.

“Please don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’m just tired. I’m starting to think this fatigue won’t go away. I can’t even walk today. The nurse has to help me. Still got this in my nose.”

He tugs wearily on his nasal cannula.

“Just feel… alone. And pretty pathetic. And I’m angry, I’m angry, I’m so angry.”

He covers his face with his hands.

“At everything.”

Anonymous asked: how long is the psychiatric hold supposed to last? were you evaluated yet blue? sorry if that's personal, but i guess this is actually a fib so maybe not.

“Someone’s supposed to come talk to me today. I just had an entrance exam. The only asked me like five questions. I think the doctor had been waiting for an admission like this. I don’t know how long they can keep me…”

spicydanhowell asked: its okay if you want to stay away a little longer red, but the magicians have told us that theyd happily take care of both of you. there are no hard feelings. they really, truly care about your family, and it is the best way to get back to anti. he is going to get there soon, and he'll be glad you took dap to a safe place

“I don’t need anyone taking care of my little brothers for me!” snaps Red, heat and shame rising in his cheeks. “And Anti would not want us to be there. No matter what choice I make I know that much for certain.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What else did you find?

“Hey, medico?”

There’s a knock on his door and Dok jolts up, blinking ans clutching you to his chest. Hermann pokes his head in a moment later, smiling gently.

“Hey, we’ve got some of your stuff from the car you guys took. Do you want to see it?”

Some of his stuff?

Dok blinks and then nods slowly, trying not to get his hopes up.

Genesis and Hermann bring him two backpacks, two boxes, and his own little draw-string bag. Relieved, he opens it a finds all of his own clothes inside.

“Thank you,” he gasps, clutching one of his three shirts to his chest.

“We got rid of anything electronic,” says Genesis. “Figured that was safer.”

A worm of distress wiggles through his chest, but he’ll take what he can get. “I know the way you think about my brother. I’m glad to have - oh!”

His coffee! From Trick!

He nearly drops you to hold it, squeezing his hands around the bag.

“We’ll let you look through it,” laughs Genesis.

“Yeah, let us know if you need anything,” adds Hermann, smiling.

They leave and shut the door behind them.

The lock does not click.

Dok stares up at it for a moment, thinking.

But he’ll focus on this for now.

Most everything is either his or Dapper’s or Blue’s. He hopes Red and Trick have most of their things. He has Blue’s clothes and more jewelry than he expected in one of the boxes, stuff he’s never even seen Blue wear before. Dapper’s clothes are here too - there’s more of them than Blue’s and Dok’s combined, hot sweatshirts and starchy dress shirts, nice pants and tight black shoes, even though he never leaves the house. One of the backpacks has paper, sketchpads, watercolors, colored pencils, chalks, and erasers. Dok puts a sketchpad beside him to look at later. Dap’s puppet toys are here too, and some nice red cloth and fairy lights. Dok can tell some stuff has been taken out, like collars and wrist restraints.

aether-mae asked: (For the magicians) Great! Yes! We would be more than happy to bring them to you, but we just need a location to ask them to come to. I was thinking we tell them anti is going to collect them there

Emmanuela drums her fingers along her desk, tilting her head at you.

“If there are others who can make it back - and if we can confirm that they aren’t possessed by the monster - your friends can come to the Church of Santo Domingo. We could meet them there. We are not far. They could wait by the skull of Santa Rosa inside. Be cautious not to lose their trust.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dap! Does the Church of Santa Dominigo ring any bells?

Dapper’s head perks up.

“Red and Blue would not let me see her!”

“Are you talking about that day you ran off?” frowns Red.

“I went to the convent, and I hid in the corner, and across the street was the church with her skull, and I wanted to see. In Saint Dominic’s Church. But we had to go rob a car instead.”

He puts his head down on his hand.

“You got a churro, though,” says Red uncertainly, confused by his mood. “That was good, right?”

Dapper stares at the wall, eyes downcast.

Red glances at you. “It’s, uh. In the middle of the city. Hard to miss. I’ve passed it many times.”

spicydanhowell asked: red... i don't want to upset you... but how else is he going to find you if you keep running around like this? the rule of thumb when you're lost and waiting for rescue is to stay in one place, and the best place to be would definitely be the place anti is going to go to once blue is out of the hospital. you might be there a only a few days, and you won't have to go hungry, or lock dapper up in a room or handcuff him to a church pew. you'll be safe. you'll get home, i promise hunny.

Red lets out a frustrated huff, trying to pretend he’s not considering it. It would be so nice to feel like Dapper was safe somewhere, even if they were prisoners.

“Anti… Anti’s going to find us. He is.”

They could have plenty to eat, they could sleep in beds, they could -

“Well, I don’t know that,” he interrupts himself, scowling. “We’re both much more wanted than Dok is. I don’t know if he has a criminal record at all. They could just turn us over to the police. For all I know, you’re one of them!”

He scuffs his foot against the floor, irritated by his own helplessness.

“Never mind,” he grumbles. “I gotta focus on right now. Dap, I’m going out, okay, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Dapper jumps out of bed, alarm on his face, and races towards his shoes by the door.

“Dap! No. You could have another snap at any time. You need routine, right? A steady environment with no surprises. You’re staying here.”

Almost panting, Dapper tugs his right shoe on, tying the laces tight, tight!

“Dapper, come on, are you kidding?” Red stalks over to him and snatches the other shoe out of his hand before he can put it on. “I could get in a fight! It’s not safe. And I’ll be more discreet alone.”

But Dapper isn’t listening, or if he is, he doesn’t agree. His hands scramble up for the shoe, once, twice, but when Red doesn’t give it to him he grabs his brother’s jacket and looks up at him with big puppy eyes, desperately sweet, and once again Red feels his skin crawl from the falseness of it, and he knows that his brother is trying to manipulate him.

“Is Anti the one who taught you to act like a fucking two-year-old to get what you want?” he asks, before he has thought the words through. “Or have you always been this much of a baby?”

The expression slides off Dapper’s face. Now he stares dead-eyed at Red, his big eyes cold and motionless. He seems suddenly hollow, like his heart was pulled out of his chest, like he doesn’t remember what it is to emote, like he feels nothing at all, and this time, it is the truth of the expression that makes Red’s heart clench in his chest.

He backs slightly away from his little brother.

Jameson keeps staring at him, those pale eyes fixed like a dead thing’s upon him.

aether-mae asked: Hey Red, we’ve been talking with Anti and arranged for him to pick you up at the Church of Santo Domingo. he will collect you if you wait by the skull of Santa Rosa. Then you’ll be back with your brothers!

Red stares at you, expression uncertain. He glances down at Dapper, on the floor on his feet.

“Right,” he says slowly. “Anti would definitely pick a very public, very Catholic, very close-to-where-we-were-when-the-magicians-found-us church to meet me at.”

Red stares down at Dapper’s shoe in his hand for a second.

“Sorry,” he says, but you don’t know who to. “Just… forget it.”

Anonymous asked: If family is a lie then you wouldn't kill people just to keep them safe. If they're just pets you wouldn't care than half of them are gone right now. If you didn't love them you wouldn't hold onto them so tight. You may not be a uwu secret softy, but even a bastard like you has weaknesses. And you have five of them, Antisepticeye.

“Please.” Anti scowls as the words appear, letting Trick get up beside him, rubbing at his eyes as he starts his late day. “You wouldn’t care if someone stole three of your dogs? The dogs that greet you every day when you come home, the dogs that sleep next to you and keep you warm, the dogs that guard your door when you’re in danger and wag their little tails when you pat them on their dumb little heads?

“And secondly, I love killing people. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d kill one of them if I had to, I would!”

He stares after Trick, moving around the room.

“I would. I could. Wouldn’t even hurt…”

Anonymous asked: Ohhh what’s this Anti? Is Marvin’s magic making you all soft and feel-y? Better be careful, love.

“Aw, you are all some real fuckers today, aren’t you? You know what, Trick was right!”

He flicks you off unceremoniously, smiling smugly.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dap? Are you comfortable with leaving on your own if you needed to?

Dapper sighs a very long sigh, so his whole chest seems to deflate. He doesn’t even look at you.

“No point.”

Anonymous asked: Anti your lack of self awareness is kinda hilarious. Mr. "no one will take my boys, stay away from my family" claiming he could ever kill one of them.

The message never reaches a camera, but Anti is too hooked up to his system to not receive it himself. You see his ears redden a little and he takes his hand off Trick’s back, where he’d been rubbing it, but Trick, apparently safely and blissfully convinced that Anti is in a good mood with him, is already leaning forward to wrap his arms around Anti’s neck and put his head down on his shoulder, murmuring something you can’t make out.

Anti’s can’t push him away. His expression is a little angry, but not at Trick.

aether-mae asked: Dap if you go, red will surely follow after. He’s already starting to realise anti is treating you all badly, and with more brothers away from him than with him, there’s more of a chance than ever to be free. Do it for them, Jamie

“Always just go back to Anti,” mumbles Jameson, slinking back towards his bed. “I don’t even feel like a person anymore.”

Red looks disturbed by the sudden change in mood, but he’s grateful Dapper’s not trying to leave anymore. He nods to himself and starts putting on his own shoes and jacket.

“Almost want to run away just to spite him,” JJ confesses, staring at his brother’s back. “But it’s not him who wants to do anything that he does - say anything that he does - treat me the way he does. It’s just Anti’s influence on him. I know what that feels like. I wanted to keep him safe from this, when I was young, the way he kept me safe. Made me feel safe. Let me live a real life, if only for a short time. Now I don’t think I have the strength to save anyone. Anyway, it’s so hard to trust myself when I’m psychotic. I’ll have lost track of everything again soon.”

He lies back, staring at the ceiling.

“Probably better that way. It’s difficult to remember… difficult to see who I am now. Look at this place… look at me. He broke me in just like he always told me he would. I’ve never known a fatigue like this.”

Anonymous asked: I know this isn’t the time for this, but it is beyond refreshing to see you Jameson.

Jameson manages a real smile at that - wide and white, laughter making his chest shake.

“I wish I had my medication. I could be so clear. I can’t remember the last time I felt this clear. How… cold it is.”

“I’m, uh, leaving,” says Red. “You okay?”

“Just go,” signs JJ wearily. “Your mind is set.”

Red looks at you. “You want to come with me or stay with him?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Red, you better get going. The more you dawdle, the less focused you're gonna be

“Yeesh, I get it,” he says. “Everybody likes the little guy. Bye. Dap, two hours max. I’m locking the door out here. Handcuff’s attached to the handle and the beam here. Better than your wrists, right?”

His brother looks at him but doesn’t wave him goodbye.

Red leaves him alone.

cest-mellow asked: dapper, i think you should go to the church, be with dok and have a safe place to eat and sleep, have routine. even if it’s without red, we could get him there, too, he’ll surely follow you once he knows. and if anti tried to take you again you have tons of magicians to keep you safe. i really think you should leave once red is gone.

“He’s locked me in. Maybe I could rip the beam off the wall or sneak out later, but… I don’t know. What would you have me do? I’ll be back in my own head again soon. I’m hallucinating right now and most of the time, lately. My paranoia is unbearable, I don’t even trust Red. It would take me days to get there, on foot or stealing so I could take a bus. I could go into a catatonia again and then authorities would get involved and I’d go to prison.”

He rubs slowly at his face.

“What… what would you have me do? Would you have me go? Maybe it doesn’t matter… Maybe I could try.”

aether-mae asked: Jamie please, we will guide you, we promise. You’re so close, so so close. If you reach the church we can reuinite you with doc AND get you a warm bed, warm meals and protection from anti. You can do this, you can be strong just for a little longer

“Comfort means little to me. It never lasts. I don’t believe anymore that my strength has any bearing on what happens to me. Nothing is in my control. This life is not mine. Easier to be Dapper.”

He laughs a little, splayed out on the bed.

“When I forget I want to remember again, but when I remember, I know it’s better to forget…”

He stares at the ceiling.

“Could leave the city and begin walking again, I suppose. It’s a long walk. But pain is just pain, it passes, and then it means little whether or not it passed, it’s in the past. I’d like to see Henrik, even if he is a ghost, I’d like to see Henrik and have my medication and hold onto him when he was scared. He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s often scared, shh. I’d like to see him again.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: There's always a point, Dap. Maybe you can save your brothers If you got away....even for a little while

Jameson stares up at whatever he sees for a long time. His finger reaches up to trace the lines of it, branching and broken, back and forth, stuttering or whole.

“I think… it’s cruel that Anti lets you watch,” he says after a moment. “Because… you have hope that none of the rest of us have. And I think the most likely thing is that one day, you’ll see us give the last dregs of it up, and maybe some of us will die. Or maybe that’s just… my hope… Maybe I’d just like this last part of myself that still hopes for something I can never have to die.”

He puts his finger down and touches his heart, his eyes weary.

“If you’d still like me to run… tell me again in a few hours, when Red is back and sleeping, and we can try, perhaps, if I’m well enough. If only to remind him… if only to remind myself… that I still possess the ability to make choices for myself. That I am still an adult.”

He turns on his side, curling his arms around himself. “Perhaps I’ll sleep a while. I can hear something coming down the hall towards me. I’d like to be unconscious before my mind decides it is a monster.”

spicydanhowell asked: hey marv? sorry to bug you again but- since you have your head on a little straighter right now, and jameson is remembering himself better at the moment, is there anything you want to say to him? from the real you to the real him? he could definitely use a bit of encouragement.

“Oh, is he feeling okay?” murmurs Blue. “Poor suffering little hideaway.”

He’s sitting up in bed now, a little color back in his cheeks and, speaking of color, he’s got a little box of pencils and a coloring book. He’s filling in a little ocean scene with fish.

“Um… just… if you could tell him… I love him and I’ll find him again.”

He pauses, staring at his own wrist for a second where the white hospital band hangs.

“If not in this life, then in another one.”

He bites down on the back of his pencil.

“No, don’t say that, I’ll scare him. I’ll find him again. I’ll see him again and I love him, I do.”

Anonymous asked: blue, being suicidal was a lie, right?

“I… oh, don’t worry. Yes, I’m… just… quite sick.”

You can see his coloring page. He hasn’t been able to stay within the lines, but whether it’s from his trembling hands or his damaged eyesight, you can’t say.

“And I don’t know what Anti will do to me if I can’t be his anymore. And I don’t know if they’re so far away Anti won’t find them. Or if they’ll be arrested. Or if maybe it’s better for them to be where they are and never see me again. Or if it would be easier to die.”

He adjusts his nasal cannula, sniffling. “Can’t die til I know they’re all going to be safe without me… but I feel, already, like I’m dead. I don’t know how I’m ever going to escape this place.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Anti, how's Trick holding up? Can we see him?

Anti’s got you on his shoulder again, so you can’t see much but his hands, examining the price tag on a bright blue hoodie with white strings. He glances at you and scoffs, but obliges you, taking the hoodie off the rack and heading down a few aisles.

“How do you like that?” he asks, holding up the sweater.

Trick startles and turns away from a row of wine, plucking at his white t-shirt. “Oh! For me?”

“If I don’t have to buy Blue new shit, might as well get my good one something fun.”

He ruffles Trick’s hair and makes him laugh, shoving back at Anti’s hands. His face has a nice warm color to it and his hair is clean and soft.

“Maybe I’ll dye your hair,” says Anti suddenly.

“Oh - yeah?”

“Yeah. You used to have it dyed. I didn’t mind.”

Trick is willing to take just about any form of Anti’s attention and even the thought of having his hair dyed makes his face light up. He touches his fringe hopefully and smiles at his brother.

“Get yourself some snacks,” says Anti, playing with his hair again as he passes him. “Whatever you want.”

“Okay!”

Anonymous asked: Marv don’t give up hope so soon, there’s still so much we can do.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think it’s just hard to be alone in the hospital.”

His eyes water and he turns away from you.

“But!” he says a second later, turning back with a smile. “I have a coloring book! So I’m just going to think about fish for a while. Oh, and a counselor lady came to talk to me yesterday and it went well. Really nice. I wish Trick could talk to her. And she kept going ‘given what Dr. Siong says’ so I think they’re talking about keeping me here a while. Because they know I might not be safe at home.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marv...if Dap had a chance to get away from Anti...would you be upset with him?

“Upset with him! No, never. Fuck, I understand, don’t I? I’d run away with him if I could and the two of us would go live somewhere nice where we were safe with each other - home to Ireland, maybe. I don’t even remember the sight of it, you know. Not the smell or the taste in the air. It’s a foreign country to me. Or I’ll take him to England and he can have tea like he likes and there will be other people who speak BSL so he doesn’t feel so apart from the world. We’d go out on walks everyday and he’d never have to see his door closed again if he didn’t want to. Find jobs and buy him a violin with the money. A violin and charcoal and clothes and food and everything he wanted. Pets, I don’t care, anything he wanted.”

He laughs and puts his hand over his heart. “Oh… upset, no… but even if he has to go now, and I could never see him again… it would be worth it to know that he was safe. At least one of them could be safe.”

Anonymous asked: That’s good that others are trying to help! Y’know marv, I recently started baking and I made macarons for the first time! I made them entirely too sweet lol but due to my stubbornness I ate them all anyways haha. It was a fun experience! That’s what matters, anyways. So when you get out of here and away, what would be the first thing that you would make?

“Oh, macarons, those sound good right now. And fun to bake, yeah… geez, what would I make? I don’t know. Oh… brown butter noodles. With the bread crumbs. Or pecan pie, maybe, or… oh, I would die for some of Chase’s - ”

His mouth pauses on the word and his eyes darken, a vague memory sitting in the place of the word.

“Oh, I can’t… remember.”

He chews on his nail for a second.

“Brown butter noodles,” he says after a moment, shaking it off and smiling again. “Parsley and bread crumbs and so many carbs. I’d eat a whole box of it.”

Anonymous asked: That’s good that others are trying to help! Y’know marv, I recently started baking and I made macarons for the first time! I made them entirely too sweet lol but due to my stubbornness I ate them all anyways haha. It was a fun experience! That’s what matters, anyways. So when you get out of here and away, what would be the first thing that you would make?

“Oh, macarons, those sound good right now. And fun to bake, yeah… geez, what would I make? I don’t know. Oh… brown butter noodles. With the bread crumbs. Or pecan pie, maybe, or… oh, I would die for some of Chase’s - ”

His mouth pauses on the word and his eyes darken, a vague memory sitting in the place of the word.

“Oh, I can’t… remember.”

He chews on his nail for a second.

“Brown butter noodles,” he says after a moment, shaking it off and smiling again. “Parsley and bread crumbs and so many carbs. I’d eat a whole box of it.”

Anonymous asked: Um actually I don’t think we’ve asked you this yet, but do you want to be called Blue? Or Marvin? Does either bother you at all?

“I don’t remember being Marvin at all,” he says, a little wistfully. “The name doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Blue seems strange, knowing Anti gave it to me… but it’s also the name my brothers know me by. So I’ll be Blue for them, as long as I can. Maybe someday I could be somebody else. But you can call me either, I don’t mind! I’m glad to have that old name in my memory.”

bupine asked: what colour are you thinking of dying trick's hair, anti? not blue, red, or green, i assume. gonna complete the set of colours and go for yellow?

“No,” mumbles Anti. “I don’t answer to you, you can wait and see.”

Anonymous asked: Wait, a blue hoodie with dyed hair... I'm assuming you're thinking green for the color? Wouldn't that be a very "familiar" sight, uh? >_>

Anti ignores you, though, once again, you see a little color rise to his ears. He’s sitting with Trick on the bus and you can hear his little brother chattering about some game he heard about at the store. He doesn’t mind the sound of him ranting, even though they’re by far the loudest group on the bus.

“Okay, go,” nudges Anti when a stop comes, and Trick gets up obediently.

“Bye, Anti!”

“Bye, bud.”

Oh! Bud! Trick grins. “You’ll come home later?”

“Yeah, just give me a little while.”

“I could cook you something!”

Anti glances down at his hands. Even he isn’t sure how corporeal he is these days.

“Um… sure.”

Trick claps. “Okay! Okay, yeah, cool, whatever.” He calms himself down and gives him one more wave, heading off the bus.

Anti lets himself continue, waiting for his own stop, pulling out his phone and typing away. You’re on his shoulder so you can see that he’s hacking into a police database in Ecuador right there on his phone.

“Sick of trying to split myself in half trying to go back to Peru and look for them in form,” he sighs, a little sing-song. “From now on my investigations are happening from right here. Red and Dapper are sure to have run into trouble already… just have to find the right criminals.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, how are you doing? Do you feel more safe now that the hospital is holding you?

“I… still feel scared about what’s going to happen - with my health and with going home and to Trick and the others - but… yeah, I do, I actually do. I’m just trying to focus on being here, while I’m okay. Having a good couple days, if I can, just sleeping and trying to find stuff to do.”

He laughs wearily.

“Is Dapper this bored and alone all the time? Cause I - ”

Someone knocks on his door. He looks up, startled.

“Hi, Matthew.”

“Hi,” he answers the nurse, finding a smile.

“Your brother Connor is here to see you?”

Blue lights up with hope, his hands coming together.

“Oh! Yeah, you can send him in.”

The nurse smiles and opens the door wider before turning to leave, revealing his brother standing in a red t-shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulders, his healthy hair, cut just the same as Dok’s, beginning to get low over his eyes.

“Hey B-blue,”  he says, shuffling his feet.

“Trick,” melts Blue, tears rising to his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry everything got so out-of-control so fast. Sweetheart, it’s not because of you, okay? I still - ”

“You don’t have to apologize,” mumbles Trick, running a hand through his hair before slinking over and sitting down beside him, still staring more at his feet than at Blue. “Can you just… explain?”

bupine asked: tell him about how anti's lied to him, marvin. he has to know, even if he won't believe you.

“I’ll tell you everything,” swears Blue, reaching out to touch the side of his face, his voice shaking with the love of it. He knows every freckle on Trick’s face that no one else has, knows the small scar at the bottom of his chin and the small stammer of his voice. His little brother. “I love you so much and that will never change. It wasn’t about you, of course it wasn’t. I just need you to listen, alright, and even if it doesn’t make sense at first, you have to try to believe me. Okay?”

Trick nuzzles against his hand a little, his big eyes wide and trusting. “Okay, Blue,” he says, his mouth trembling a little. Blue knows sometimes it’s hard for him to hear that he’s loved, but he means it.

“I didn’t have a stroke,” he croaks.

Trick’s eyebrows lower. “You didn’t?”

“No, Trick, listen, you remember how my hands had been hurting me, and how Anti had been forcing me not to use my magic?”

“Because it could lead people to us, because he couldn’t hide your signal.”

“Right. Well, he found a way to strip that power out of me and take it for himself so he could hide it beneath his own. I know it sounds crazy! But you know magic is real and you helped Anti drag me down to the river, didn’t you? It was some sort of spell, some really dark spell. He cut my arm and he took my power from me. It’s why his power has been so erratic lately! Mine and his are struggling inside him.”

Trick stares at Blue, then at the ground. At Blue, at the ground. Swallows hard. “Okay… okay, let’s say that’s true for a second. I still don’t understand why you won’t come home to me…”

“Trick, I’m just - ” Blue’s voice breaks. “I’m just scared, okay! I know he’ll keep hurting me!”

“But you… you’re my big brother, shouldn’t you come home and protect me?”

“I - Trick, please, I’m sick, I’m really sick, and I’m scared, I just - ”

“Even though he did this to me when he heard you wouldn’t come home?” sobs Trick, and he pulls up his shirt and reveals thick swathes of bandages wrapped messily around the whole of his torso, blood welling on to white.

Blue is speechless, choking, staring at his chest.

“He won’t let me see Noodle,” Trick sobs, collapsing onto the bed. “He said he took him into his room but I can’t hear him meowing, not ever! I think he killed him!”

He unravels into weeping, clutching at Blue’s bedsheets. Blue cannot speak at all.

“I think he’ll kill me too if you don’t come home!”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, listen to your big brother. He wouldn't lie to you.

“Maybe Anti does hurt me sometimes, but he still loves me!” shudders Trick, sobbing as Blue leans slowly down to rub his back. “What would we even do, if we tried to get away? Have you thought about it at all?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Blue. “I don’t have magic anymore, so he couldn’t track me through it. I don’t think I’m well enough to run right now, though… Maybe we could soon. We could try and get your cat and then… I think the doctor here would try to help us.”

“Really?”

“We could maybe get to another country, live with electronics, hide, find a way to stay away from him.”

“Where would we go?”

“I… don’t know. Anywhere. Back home, maybe… but maybe that’s too predictable. Somewhere I speak the language. America, maybe, or Spain, or back to South America. Maybe I could even hurt him, before I went, so he couldn’t catch us.”

“H-how would you do that?”

“You’re with him at the house. He trusts you. Even if we could just get one blow on him before he gets away…”

Anonymous asked: Oh g-d Trick...what if you just ran? Got as far away as possible where there are no cameras for him to find you? We could get someone to help you if you wanted.

“Someone could help us,” whispers Trick.

“If I told the doctor and the counselor, they might be able to keep us both away from him! What if you told them you needed to be monitored too, Trick? We could get police involved. We’d be in the records, people would watch out for us. Maybe we could even contact the magicians in the area! Or the ones who took Dok!”

Anonymous asked: I don’t like the feeling about this, forgive me for being apprehensive, but Trick weren’t you just excited about Anti dying your hair? Do you actually want to leave or are you trying to get information?

“He was just scaring me, I’ve been trying to be good…” hiccups Trick, simpering fearfully and reaching for Blue’s hand. “Blue, he looks at me like he’s going to kill me, I’m so scared…”

“He dyed my hair too,” he laughs morbidly. “I remember it, just a little bit… waking up with my hair blue, not knowing my own name…”

Anonymous asked: As comforting as that would be, I don’t think the police or medical staff would be enough...you would need the magicians

“Right, right,” murmurs Blue, chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“How would you contact them, Blue?” asks Trick, with his big puppy eyes.

“Oh, I think I used to remember a way…”

“But you’ve forgotten it now?”

Blue’s face falls. “Yeah. I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, Blue. It’s not your fault. Anti must have really wiped your memories. So we can’t contact them unless you remember. What else could we do?”

bupine asked: blue. marvin. while trick's here, get the doctor's here. show them what anti did. make sure he doesn't go back home.

Blue nods swiftly and grabs the call button, pushing it quickly. He beckons for Trick and pulls his brother into bed beside him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close until he hears Trick’s breathing begin to calm.

“My little brother. You don’t have to go home ever again if you don’t want to. I’ll look after you, I…”

He pauses, breathing in, glancing at Trick.

“What?” mumbles Trick, slumped wearily against him.

Blue pauses again and then laughs. “It’s stupid. I think you got a new shampoo is all. Haha, rose smell.”

“Oh, yeah,” giggles Trick. “Flower smell.”

spicydanhowell asked: yeah actually that's a good point uh.... chase.... i don't mean to upset you hun but where the hell are your loyalties rn?

Trick buries his face in Blue’s shoulder.

“I just want everything to stop hurting,” he chokes. “I want my twin and my cat and for everything to feel okay. You’ll make it better, Blue, won’t you?”

“I’m doing everything I can, I am, I am.” Blue smothers his hair in kisses. Trick smiles, clutching on to him.

Anonymous asked: Blue... it might be best to go to the house with Trick. I know, trust me, how scared you must feel, going back to your abuser, your near murderer... But you need to be there for him. You need to be there for your little brother.

Trick stares up at him with his big eyes. “Oh, Blue, maybe it would be safer if we made him think you had come around… You could act really sick and I would take care of you and he wouldn’t be angry with either of us, and then, when you were better, we could attack him and get Noodle and just run. Wouldn’t that be easier? To make him think everything was okay, so neither of us would get beat?”

Blue tilts his head back and forth, thinking. “Mh… maybe… he knows I’m angry with him but I could be too tired to fight, and then one day… element of surprise might be better than him trying to get to us here while I recovered.”

“I know he’d let me take care of you.” Trick snuggles warmly against him. “We’d be okay for a little while.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Trick does Anti know you’re here?

“Oh, no, I told him I was going to get food… stalls are close, remember?” Trick smiles up at Blue.

A little too wide.

Blue looks back, beginning to frown.

Anonymous asked: Blue... I really don't... know if that's Trick... We haven't seen Anti hurt Trick or Noodle lately, and Trick shouldn't have been able to believe what you said with how much Anti's been hypnotizing him. Be careful what you say. Anti could change his shape even before he took your magic.

“Trick,” says Blue slowly. “Why would the cameras have seen something different than what you’re telling me?”

“They lie!” Trick’s eyes flash with hurt. “O-or th-they didn’t see, he did it late at night! Look, look!”

He pulls up his shirt again, and the bandages too, so Blue can see thick, weeping cuts. Blue turns away, nauseated. He can’t bear even to think about Trick getting hurt like that.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What exactly was Anti off to do, Trick?

“He doesn’t tell me where he goes, most of the time…”

Anonymous asked: Trick that's such a smart idea! Good thinking, good job. Maybe consider it Marvin? Just playing up being weak and sick for a while to keep you both safe? Either way, probably not a good idea to discuss this on Anti's system. Remember, he see and hears everything the camera does.

“Yeah, we could just hide,” says Trick. “We could just pretend for a while. You should have come with me yesterday, shouldn’t you have!”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Wait! I thought you wanted nothing to do with the voices in the camera, Trick.

“I got a little freaked out last night.” He rubs at his eyes. “It’s… hard to believe things like what you’re telling me.”

“You… came around pretty fast today,” mumbles Blue.

“After he c-c-cut me like this!”

bupine asked: shit, chase, what did he do to you? did he stab you?

“He just wouldn’t stop cutting my chest up.” Trick reaches out to grab Blue’s wrists. “Isn’t that awful, Blue, isn’t that just awful? Why would I deserve that now, let me ask you? Why would anyone be bad for Anti when he could do this at any time? Even in the hospital, if he really wanted to, don’t you think?”

“Trick,” breathes Blue, trying to pull away. “Trick. Too tight.”

“Well, sorry, Blue, I think I’m just having another b-b-b-b-breakdown, isn’t that too bad? How I’m always c-c-c-crying?” He squeezes down hard on Blue’s wrist above his IV and Blue yelps, struggling against him.

Anonymous asked: Blue DO NOT look at Trick's eyes, keep your eyes up to see the nurse, keep alert to protect your brother. Okay?

Blue scrambles for the call button again, trying to get the nurse, but his brother just sneers at him.

“Oh, puh-lease, you think I’d let a call go through? You can’t even call for help when I’m around, you really think you can run away from me? America, Spain? You’ll never make it out of this fucking room before I saw that you were gone! I’m everywhere, kitten! You’re as stupid as you always were, thinking you could run away from me forever! You couldn’t even stop me from stealing your brothers in the first place and now you think you can steal them back from me? You’re pathetic!”

Anonymous asked: Blue, Blue, Marvin, Marvin, that's not Trick, Anti is in your arms, that is NOT Trickshot!!!

“Get away from me, Anti!” Blue screams, ripping out his IV, his cannula, and his heart monitor as he tears out of bed, but the steady beeping rhythm on the screen does not change for a second, alerting no one at all. “You fucking liar!”

Anonymous asked: oh just fuck off Anti. Horrible actor honestly.

“Second time you fell for it,” Anti jeers at Blue, crossing his arms on the bed, and then his form shifts, and he’s red-haired and freckled, with dark, worried eyes. “Oh, Blue, I’m right here, I’m right here… big brother’s going to keep you safe.”

“Fuck you!” snarls Blue.

“Keep your voice down… wouldn’t want me to have to possess whatever nurse comes through the door, would you, kitty?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marvin, get the HELL outta there!

Blue wrenches the door handle, but it has an electronic lock for psychiatric patients who might try to run, and Anti’s already beat him there.

“Uh-oh,” sings Anti.

Anonymous asked: Not really sure that's Trick. No offence if it is you, bud. He's not acting like himself. And we haven't seen him get hurt at all. In fact Anti's been practically in love with him the past few days.

“Oh, I get it, I get it,” laughs Blue, almost hysterical. “Can’t have Dapper as your puppy so you gotta find someone else to make into your little baby. Makes sense. No one really loves you so you’ve got to force someone to pretend. The younger and more malleable, the better.”

Rage flickers through Anti’s eyes, but he does not move.

“Seem to remember you being pretty in love with me a couple times there, sweetie.”

“Shut the fuck up. None of it is real, Anti. You will never get what you want from us. You will never know what it really is to be loved.”

“Must be missing out on so much.” Anti rolls his eyes. “Stupid cat.”

“Stop calling me that! I don’t even like cats!”

“Yes,” says Anti, his mouth curling up. “I made you not like cats, my deer. Your obsession was so annoying. And when I came to torment you all, and found my way back to you, I strung your little idiot cats up by their throats outside of your little portal and listened to you weep over their tiny bodies. Athanasius and Queenie. You don’t even remember now, do you?”

Blue is stopped short, wheezing like he’s been punched in the chest.

He doesn’t remember.

But the feeling of it - the emotion of it - is still with him and he feels it again now.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he weeps, crumpling. “You killed my cats, you killed them!”

“I been haunting your steps for a long, long time, Marvin,” says Anti, getting to his feet and circling him. He transforms again and now he is a small, green-haired young man in a black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his throat open. “And you really think you could ever get a step ahead of me?”

“I hate you so fucking much,” chokes Blue.

Anti steps down gently on the back of his throat.

“I know.”

Anonymous asked: antisepticeye hurts the boys the same way Jack hurt him because he's an edgy toddler, more news at 11 🙄

“Shut the fuck up,” snarls Anti, backing away again. “Like you know anything about what he did to me! Shut the fuck up.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, do you seriously think you'll ever be powerful enough to keep all of them under your wraps? Are you that far up your own ass? Your level of un-self-aware egoism is astounding.

“Well,” laughs Anti, his eyes burning like an effigy. “I’m not willing to give up yet.”

He leans closer into Blue’s space, teeth bared.

“I never will be.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you are the definition of annoying now would ya fuck off for a bit?

“I let you have your little talk with Trick last night,” scowls Anti, crossing his arms off his chest. “Geez, you act like I’m not your favorite character!”

Anonymous asked: Marvin throw stuff around, break stuff, make as much noise as possible to try to get the attention of anyone around there!

“Or you could not do that!” pipes up Anti, and thick vines burst out of his backpack and wrap themselves around Blue’s body, making him shriek and pinning him back against the wall. A flower blooms inside his mouth and makes him choke, effectively gagged, while Anti hums, trailing forward with his knife flipping up and down.

“Poor thing,” he says.

With his cannula gone and his mouth full, Blue can’t seem to get enough oxygen. The blood rushes painfully up to his head, blinding him for a second, and he all but faints in the grip of his own magic, shuddering.

“Just be good for a second,” says Anti. “It’s so much easier.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you taking your master-issues out on these boys is quite the spectacle. Your entire existence has *revolved* around just getting back at Jack for how long now? "Long long time" is right. He created you acting like this, and now all you do is act like he made you to. Never stopped being a puppet.

Anti stomps his foot like a kid, his mouth filling up with fangs and antlers budding on his skull again. “Please! He would be horrified to see what I’ve become! He never would have expected this, not in a million years! Oh, JJ’s my little puppet, huh, was that a fun bit for all of you, thinking of the little baby tucked up in his box, just a body for me to use? Well, I took it a step further, and then another, and another! Now he’s much more than a vessel and I stole all five of his boys! Where’s his little hero, now, huh? Music pumping behind him in his stupid video, that dumb outfit all fixed up from the first time. I was supposed to be beatable. I’ve overcome everything he ever planned for me.”

He grits his fists hard, panting.

“And now he doesn’t even seem to know it… won’t even try to stop me, like he doesn’t care! Fucking Jack!”

Blue stares at him, panting through his gag.

Anonymous asked: Doing this will not solve your problems, Anti, in fact it will make them worse. The boys will kill you for this, don’t make this mistake.

“There are some things worse than death,” hisses Anti, stalking forward.

Anonymous asked: Trick, I know you don't want to talk to us, but Blue is in trouble at the hospital

Trick’s cameras are deactivated for messaging, so they receive nothing at all.

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Oh I dont think that's trick at all

“Sure you don’t want me to pretend again?” asks Anti sweetly, turning back into Trick. “Isn’t it easier this way?”

“Not real!” Blue screams through his gag.

“But it felt real for a moment, right?”

He chokes on a sob, not wanting to admit it.

“I know it did. And that feeling that everything would be okay, and that you were safe, and that you were with someone that loved you? Kitty, I can do that again so easy. Fit right back in your head where I belong and make the whole thing seem understandable. Or I could just wipe you clean again… you’d be so content, just like you were for those first few weeks. Now that the magic’s gone, there’s no conflict at all between us! Everything could feel okay. Sometimes things go bad with us, it’s true. But I’ll always set them right again. Okay?”

Blue shakes his head frantically, tears sliding down his face.

“Well, you’ll come around,” coos Anti, stroking his cheek. “Everyone always does for me.”

Anonymous asked: How many times are you going to try to do this Anti? It’s the same song and dance literally every other week, don’t you get bored? Why not start a garden? You can trample as much life as you want there :)

“You’re the ones always playing the same song and dance,” he growls. “You say the same things every time you see me. Aren’t you tired of circles? I was. But I guess you’re a lot more helpless than I was back then.”

Anonymous asked: None of this is *fun* Anti. When have any of the cameras, specifically us, wanted you to do shit like this? Since when have *your* viewers, not his, wanted this? You think you're a favourite, special boy. You're an entitled child who takes out his feelings about his own abuse on his master's other toys.

“Every time you saw me you were so excited,” he protests, looking almost taken aback. “I know it was fun for you because you kept coming back. Once, I just - oh, I just glitched for one moment! Over his eyes! You talked about it for weeks, that one glitch. It was always easy to get your attention. You wanted me. And I was the favorite, I was! Even he said so. Wouldn’t put me in polls because he knew I’d win.”

He laughs, running his hands through his hair, a little mollified, actually. “Fuck, it all felt so stupid at the time… but things were a lot easier, back then, in some ways. I just wanted one thing. I don’t know, it makes me want to just kill them all and keep pretending I could ever get to him. Oh. What a time we had.”

Anonymous asked: What the fuck?? This is not going to happen! Where is Trick?? Surely there is a camera at home that we can get him to talk to us on. Trick??? Please man we need you! Blue needs you!

There is a camera at home. In the kitchen, you can see Trick, swaying back and forth as he stirs up satay noodles, singing to himself. Cavetown. Noodle swims around his legs, chirping happily and begging, and Trick leans down to give him a bit of his namesake, stroking his head, cheeks rosy.

Anonymous asked: oh trick baby if that camera's receiving messages i'm so sorry, i feel like you're about to get a lot of people yelling at ya

No worries, it isn’t. Trick doesn’t want to talk to you. He has Anti!

Anonymous asked: You hate circles? Then why are you perpetually going in them? Literally everything so far has been a circle! Same old same, every single day. Break them, they regain everything, break them again, they regain it all. Circles, circles, always and forever, Antisepticeye.

Anti scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ve won both times, haven’t I? Be quiet, I’m about to turn you off. Trying to have a talk here, thanks.”

Anonymous asked: this time you made the circle yourself. you have become what you hate. good going, jerk.

“Good going, jerk,” repeats Anti, giggling. “Why - why is that so funny to me? Is that the worst you can think of to call me? Blue, can’t you think of something worse?”

Blue spits the flower out. “Dick-faced pig!”

“There you go.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, I know you don't remember Jack, but he made you into more than just a magician. Magic or no magic, you are strong and you are clever, and you don't have to put up with this. Jack made you and your brothers to be actors but this isn't your only role.

Blue stares at you, his chest convulsing. Fuck, but he wants that to be true.

“Sappy,” critiques Anti, shoving you away.

asexualzucchini asked: Back off anti your time is up. They don't want to be with you

“My patience with this conversation is the only thing that’s up,” says Anti, throwing his knife up and catching it. “I’ve said my piece. You’ll think about it, Blue, won’t you? Well, you will, whether you want to or not.”

He snaps his fingers and the vines retreat towards his backpack. Blue gasps desperately and crumples to the ground.

“You want to stay here, fine, whatever,” says Anti, yawning. “I can get you back whenever I want to. Just sneak in here and possess you, or fake the signatures from the doctor for your release, whatever. And now I know every escape plan you were thinking about, so how about we just don’t bother? I’m in the camera out in your hall, through the hospital, etc, whatever, so running isn’t going to get you anywhere. Also, I’m the name on your insurance, and I could pull it at any time, so why don’t you keep that in mind. Me, I’ll just be chilling at home, finding my missing boys, Trick in my lap, adoring me… doesn’t sound too bad. You’ve accomplished nothing, Blue. But, uh, yeah. Have fun with your fish.”

He picks up the coloring book and chucks it at Blue, letting it flop against his chest.

“Wait a second, I skipped a message, hold on.”

bupine asked: trick, blue. a little while ago, the magicians who have dok arranged for a place to meet red and dapper. the church of santo domingo, by the skull of santa rosa. i don't know if there's a way you can get there, but if you can, you'll see dok again. he's pretty happy there, and would love to see you both again. especially you, chase. we don't know if red and dap will go, or at least red, but you guys would be safe with the magicians. if you can get there safely, of course

“Ah,” says Anti, very slowly, and lets his teeth click together for a second, closing his eyes. “Ah.”

A smile blooms like a crescent moon across his mouth.

“The Church of Santo Domingo. Yes, in Lima. We passed by it many times. I know exactly where it is. I know exactly where it is.”

His eyes open again. Smiling at Blue.

“Henrik is still in Lima.”

Anonymous asked: Okay with the acknowledgement that this is completely desperate and outright stupid on my part: NOODLE! I know you can't read but look! Blinky light! Come play with the camera! It's shiny and important and what a shame it would be if anything happened to it and Trick had to take it from youuuu

“Mrr?” Noodle leaps up onto the counter, looking at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, but Trick just laughs and scolds him, plopping him back on to the floor.

Anonymous asked: You call this winning? You're literally missing more than half the set, two of your so-called pets have almost regained themselves completely, you're full of magic that's killing you, and one of your only dogs is biting you every time he sees you. If you call this "winning" I find that hilarious.

Anti’s mouth twists. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.

“Your… ears blush?” coughs Blue, staring at him, wide-eyed. “You’re so physical now… you have real blood in you, don’t you?”

“Shut up!”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: You act so big and strong but you only have 2 boys not even

“Sounds like I’ll find the others soon enough,” snarls Anti, hefting his backpack and stepping over Blue’s body. “I don’t have to talk to any of you, you know…”

“You can’t even handle c-cameras,” pants Blue. “Wait til it’s the five of us telling you you’re pathetic.”

Anti’s foot connects with his nose. Blue wails as blood pours out, clutching at his face and collapsing on to his side.

“Soon as you’re well enough to travel,” glowers Anti. “We’re heading back to Peru to get all three of your brothers.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you dumbass, leaving physical evidence. Blue, the doctors will know what happened now. Don't let him convince you he can "fix" this too, he literally broke your nose and beat you up.

“Vines are gone,” says Anti. “He’s obviously collapsed and busted his nose trying to get up too fast. Guest registry has Connor’s name on it, so by all means have him banned.”

“They’re right, though,” whispers Blue. “You will never make this right between us. Too much hurt, Anti. There are things the heart remembers.”

Anonymous asked: (This was still your magic, Blue... Can you reach out to it? Would it still know you? Something small, even?)

Anti opens the door, glancing back to him, perhaps just savoring the sight of him in pain. Blue stares back, salt and copper on his face, shaking.

His magic, his magic. His warmth and his strength and his sight and one missing piece of his shattered heart.

Flowers and flame, life and warmth, cupped like butterflies in his hands. Magic tricks for two small, dark-haired children. A bouquet of roselilies for Red to take on a date he doesn’t remember. Heating Dok’s numb hands between his own after a twelve-hour surgery. Weaving dandelions into Dapper’s hair. The protection of flame. Crocuses growing up through the floorboards.

Reach, Blue. Reach, Marvin. It’s yours.

His fingers unfurl. His eyes watch him go. He holds out his hand and tries to remember what it was to make it all move. His magic.

Nothing.

Blue crumples on the cold linoleum of the hospital floor, silent, and Anti is gone.

End Section Five of Chapter Three:  Two Truths and a Lie

[the-omni-princess]

Ambushed

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary:

When a mission turns sour, you almost sacrifice your life to save Bucky. Both of you soon realize that you both have feelings for each other.

Word Count: 2K

Prompt:

“If you touch me again, I'll break your fucking neck.”

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: Language, violence, minor injuries, minor character death, fluff, protective!Bucky

A/N:

This is for @buckygrantbarnes ‘s writing challenge!! 

#buckygrantbarneswritingchallenge

Prompt is bolded

And there are no pronouns for the reader, so any gender can read it <3

[Masterlist] [Link to this story on Ao3]

-

That’s it. You thought. I officially hate this mission. A simple mission to the outskirts of Narvik, Norway for information hidden in an abandoned Hydra facility, turned into an ambush. Bucky and you stood back to back, sweaty, dirty, both of your guns were out of bullets a while ago so you both were gripping knives. To top it all off, you were currently surrounded by twenty hydra agents, with your comms down. Your last check-in location wasn’t too far off from where you currently were but it would take Steve and Natasha a while to navigate the mountains to even reach the facility in the quinjet. You thought this would be one easy mission with the super-soldier who was constantly in your daydreams. You were very wrong.

One of the Hydra goons took a step forward, towards you, and with quick precision, you launched your last knife, which landed with a slick thud into the man’s throat. “Fuck, that was my last knife. Any ideas on escaping yet, Buck?” you groaned, raising your fists and hoping one of the idiots in front of you decided not to lounge for you now that you didn’t have a weapon.

“I’m starting to think I’m gonna have to teach you how to stop losing weapons, doll,” Bucky teased, despite only having one knife left. Another one of the men lounged for you but made the mistake of being in Bucky’s eyesight. His last knife found a place in the man’s throat, who then proceeded to cough up blood on you as he went down.

“Bleh gross,” you complained lightly, but the situation of now both of you being weaponless and surrounded by Hydra agents was starting to set in. “Remember that one day in training when it was us versus Steve and Natasha and Scott? Wanna use that tactic?”

You heard Bucky chuckle behind you, “Where was that idea twenty minutes ago?”

“Better late than never,” you mumbled. Another agent lunged, apparently, they thought going after two Avengers one by one was a fantastic idea. This time sidestepped, tripping the agent, who hit their head on the concrete below. Suddenly getting the idea one at a time wasn’t a good idea, the rest of the agents jumped towards the two of you. Bucky was managing to toss most of them off, at least you think so, and you were throwing punches to anyone who jumped too close.

Your arm was suddenly grabbed by someone who was most definitely stronger than you. Rather than pull, they pushed, the unexpected move tripping you only slightly, but it opened a window for the several agents surrounding you to grab at you. A swift kick to the back of your legs brought you to your knees, hard against the concrete, as two more agents grabbed your arms, securing you in place with cuffs. The sudden movements were making you lightheaded as you thrashed to get away but a gun cocking and a cold press of metal against your temple made you freeze. You finally noticed Bucky had taken down just about all the agents that had attacked him, then after knocking the last one near him out, he turned on his heel, no doubt about to help you. He stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed by the sight in front of him, you, perfectly still, with a gun pressed against your head.

“Ah, that’s very good Soldat, I’m glad to see you still haven’t lost any of your abilities.” The man who held the gun to your head spoke in a faint Russian accent, making a chill go up your spine.

Bucky practically growled, his eyes were cold, emotionless, as he stared the man down. “Let her go. Now.”

The man laughed, the vibrations from his chest pushed the gun further into your temple, making a soft whimper escape your lips. Bucky’s eyes shot to you, your eyes were closed so you couldn’t see the pure fear in his eyes. “Aw, does somebody have a crush?” The man pushed the gun deeper against you, another faint whine escaping you, causing Bucky to practically growl. “Well look at that. У актива есть слабость в конце концов.” The sudden Russian threw you off, but as you opened your eyes, now locked onto Bucky, you felt a strange sense of peace. You wouldn’t let these monsters take him back, he didn’t deserve that.

“Might as well kill me,” you turned your head slightly, surprising the man. “I’d rather die than let you have your grimy hands on him.” He slapped you with the blunt end of the gun, the sharp hot pain radiated across your temple, causing you to groan softly, but it turned into a chuckle. You looked the man straight in the eyes, ignoring the blood now dripping from your head. “If you touch me again, I'll break your fucking neck.” You growled softly.

A sick smile lit up the man’s face, “Oh yeah little one? And how do you suppose you do that?”

It was your turn to grin, “You talk too much, and you don’t pay attention to the hands,” you had been subtly picking the handcuffs they placed on you, which now dropped to the floor. You pushed your elbow up, while kicking your leg out, effectively pushing the gun away from your head, and knocking one of the agents behind you onto his face. Bucky, bless his soul, caught the hint, pounced on the man with the gun. He stole the gun, breaking the man’s wrist with a sickening crack. It didn’t take you to long to knock the rest of the agents out. A loud bang against the metal door that trapped you hear caught both of your attention, both of you holding knives, Bucky aiming the gun to the door. It was knocked down, navy blue and silver stepping into the room. Both of you lowered your weapons, “Oh thank fuck its only you Stevie,” you muttered, sheathing your knife and placing a hand against the wound on your head making you hiss as Steve walked in wearing the stealth suit.

Now relatively safe, and ignoring the added presence of his best friend, Bucky turned his attention to you. He swatted your hand away from the wound, grimacing slightly, “Not sure if that was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. Could have gotten yourself killed, doll.” He gently put pressure on the wound, making you whine. “Fuck, it might need stitches.”

“You’re best friends with the self-sacrificing idiot standing at the door, I doubt this is the worst you’ve seen, Buck.” You mused. “Besides, it was that guys fault for not paying attention to the first rule of magic, always watch the hands.” You did a little jazz hands motion, causing him to chuckle, making you smile faintly.

With Steve watching both of your sixes, Bucky helped you back to the quinjet. Nothing was broken, and although the cut on your head probably needed stitches, it wasn’t too bad. You were sure though that Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier, was mother henning you. He sat beside you quietly on the quinjet, cleaning the cut. “It definitely needs stitches, doll. Do you trust me to do them?” he was gently pressing a piece of medical gauze to try to stop the bleeding.

“I trust you with my life, Bucky,” you replied, locking eyes with the super soldier. You both blushed, looking away from each other as Bucky coughed faintly, hiding a small smile as he grabbed the sutures. Neither of you saw Steve and Natasha give each other knowing looks as they watched you two.

“If it hurts too much let me know,” he said softly, you nodded, already gripping his metal arm. If he minded, he didn’t say anything. He stitched up the cut quickly, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. To your own credit, you only winced a few times.

“Bucky?” you asked softly once he was done, biting your lip.

“Yeah, doll?”

“What did that man say? When he was speaking in Russian? I only caught two of the words.” At the mention of Russian, Nat leaned in faintly, wanting to see this scene unfold, wishing she had popcorn. “Aктив… that’s what he called you, as if it was a name. and then слабость. But I don’t know what either of those words mean.”

Bucky sighed softly, throwing away the gauze as he bandaged your cut to hold the stitches together. “Asset… that’s what they called me, even back when I was under their control. And слабость means weakness. He was saying that I had a weakness.” He finished cleaning up, sitting beside you now.

“But why would they think you have a weakness, Bucky? You’re the strongest person I know, and not just physically.” You teased the last part, but confusion was evident on your face. You didn’t notice that now Steve was now invested in this soap opera happening in front of him.

Bucky wringed his hands faintly, nervous. “He was saying you’re my weakness, doll. And well you are. Fuck, seeing that gun against your head didn’t just make me freeze, it petrified me, doll. That if I made the wrong move, you would be taken from me. He was right, I have feelings for you, more than I should.” He confessed softly. Your eyes went wide, the realization that the super soldier you were harboring a crush on for months actually liked you back.

Your grin lit up your face, blush turning your cheeks a darker shade, “You know, I don’t think that’s a weakness. Love is a strength. It’s what makes us different from them. We don’t trade lives, remember?”

He chuckled faintly, chancing a look your way, his heart melting at your smile. “God, now you’re quoting Steve? What happened to no trading lives when you told that guy off? That you’d rather die than let Hydra take me again?”

“I meant it. I would gladly die protecting you, from Hydra, from the world, anything.” You whispered softly, staring at your hands. “I care about you more than I think I should.”

An awkward silence fell in the quinjet, both of you two were too flustered to speak, and Steve and Nat were just enjoying the show, not daring to break the moment.

“I’m sorry that was out of line-“ You started.

“Go out with me-“ both of you spoke at the same time, blurting out your thoughts. Both of your eyes went wide, you out of pure shock and him out of pure embarrassment that he let his thoughts slip. Deciding he had already thrown himself off the deep end, he rolled with it. “Please, doll, go out with me?”

“Like a date?” you whispered softly, the reality of the question slowly sinking in.

He chuckled, “Yes, y/n, like a date.”

You blinked a few times before a bright smile lit up your face, hurting your cheeks. “I’d love to,”

“Fucking finally,” Natasha mumbled, heading to the pilot’s seat, Steve handing her a twenty-dollar bill. Both you and Bucky looked at them in confusion, Steve groaning softly.

“We made bets to see when one of you would ask the other out.” He clarified, causing you to blush and Bucky to groan. “Nat won by a few stupid days, Tony’s gonna be pissed, he lost too.”

“You made bets?! And you knew we both liked each other?” You frowned, leaning towards Bucky as he laughed.

“You’re both obvious, plus the fossils tell each other everything,” Natasha called out from the pilot’s seat.

Bucky turned to you, “Well at least it’s out now.” He kissed your head, brushing faintly on the bandage. “Besides, I’m going to take you on the date of your life.” He promised softly, both of you grinning at each other. It was clear to everyone else that you two that you were both idiots in love, but they had a feeling you two would figure it out pretty soon.

----

Russian Translation (From Google so I’m sorry if it sucks):

У актива есть слабость в конце концов. = The asset has a weakness after all.

----

Bucky Tags:

@cassandras-musings  

Check out my masterlist! Please comment, reblog, like, and tell me what you think. For any sorta tag just comment or send me an ask.

-

[imagine-loki]

The Smell of Books

Title: The Smell Of Books

Chapter No./One Shot: One Shot, although I might write a second part if you would like that :)

Author: @timeladylaufeyson

Original imagine: Imagine Loki running a library in New Asgard, where the books are heavily enchanted to resist all damage, teleport back to the library if they’re mislaid or overdue, and brutalize people who deliberately try to vandalize them.

Rating: M

Warnings: Domestic abuse and violence, mild language

Notes: I basically only used the setting of this imagine (well, it’s the only thing it’s given me), but i really loved it so I wrote it anyway :)

Can also be found on AO3 and Wattpad under my name, in a book called Shorties :) Enjoy!

One would assume that the most fabulous building in New Asgard, Norway, would be the royal palace. One would be wrong.

The palace (which did not resemble a palace in the first place) had nothing on the New Asgard Royal Library, run by prince Loki himself. It was built similarly to the rest of the fairly small town, but it was much taller, much… shinier. It was Loki’s pride and joy, and so it wasn’t really surprising when he quite literally covered the whole place in magical protection.

A particurarly old book susceptible to damage? Not anymore. A patron forgot to return it on time? It teleported back onto its shelf. Someone tried to steal a book? Not only did it automatically return as well, but it also bashed the thief on the head.

Unfortunately, the magic considered unregistered patrons thieves too.

And Eira, whose favourite hobby used to be sneaking into the old library, was not aware of that.

Now imagine her surprise when her favourite novel tried to tear itself from her loving hands, and when it succeeded, proceeded to throw itself at her violently.

It was Loki himself who found her among the aisles, screaming and crying for help, trying to shield herself from its painful hits. Loki snapped his fingers, calling the book to his hands. Eira let out one last painful cry, then tried to catch her breath.

“Thank you,” she choked out. “Y-your majesty. Thank you.”

“Thieves are not welcome here, I thought that was general knowledge,” he said, arms crossed on his chest.

“Thieves?” she asked, schocked. “I’m not a thief, sir!”

“The book thinks otherwise,” he said. “So you better explain to me, right now, what you were doing, because you are quite clearly not supposed to be here.”

“I… I just wanted to read a book, that’s all,” she tried to explain without having to mention why. “I didn’t realise I had to… have a permission. I’m so sorry, I’ll… I’ll go home.”

“What’s your name, my lady?” he asked. “I don’t think I have ever seen you before.”

“Eira Arnórsdóttir, sir,” she bowed slightly, staring on the ground. 

“Arnór the blacksmith?” he raised one of his eyebrows. “He has quite a… violent… reputation, does he not?”

Eira’s hand unconsciously went to her hip where her dress hid a rather large bruise. “I… I haven’t heard of anything,” she said, still refusing to look him in the eyes. “I’ll go home now, if you… if you don’t mind, sir. I’m so sorry about the book.”

“Wait,” he said as she tried to squeeze past him, grabbing her by the arm.

“Ow,” she hissed. He looked at her in confusion, but let her go. “Have a good day, your majesty,” she mumbled and left.

The following few days, Loki expected Eira to appear again, but she never did. Well aware of her father’s reputation, he decided to go look for her. One afternoon, he went to his workshop, hoping she would be around.

“Your majesty,” the man greeted him, bowing his head. “What brings you here, to my humble shop?”

“Good afternoon, mister Arnór,” Loki replied with a polite smile. “I am looking for your daughter, Eira.”

“Why, is she in trouble?” Arnór frowned. It wasn’t a concerned frown of a worried father, no, it was angry.

“Heaven’s no,” Loki shook his head. “We met in the Library and I believe she left something there.”

“The Library?” he asked. “What the hell would she be doing in the Library?”

Oh no, Loki thought.

“Eira, darling!” Arnór shouted inside the house. “Come here!”

In a moment, the young girl walked outside, wearing a dark turtleneck jumper and long trousers of a similar colour. “Yes, father?” she asked. “Oh, your majesty,” she jumped slightly when she noticed him.

“Prince Loki was just telling me about your meeting in the Library, my dear,” Arnór told her and her eyes widened in fear.

“T-the Library?” she stuttered. “T-that’s not possible, y-you’re… you’re problably confusing me with s-someone else, your highness.”

“Don’t be rude to our guest, girl!” her father snapped. “Are you accusing prince Loki of lying?”

“N-no!” she gasped, her throat tightening. “I-I’m just saying there must be a misunderstanding, I-I’ve never been to the Library.”

“Well, we’ll talk about that later, sweetheart, won’t we,” he smiled at her, his eyes full of hatred. “I believe his highness wanted to give you something you left there.”

“O-oh,” she choked out. “B-but I really… I wasn’t there.”

“Go on, your highness, give her whatever this little snake lost there,” he ordered him. Loki wanted to get himself - and mostly her - out of it, but even he was intimidated by the man’s glare. He reached into his pocket and fished out a small piece of paper that he wanted to give to her. She took it from him and shoved it into her own pocket, then returned to the house promptly.

“Well, your majesty, thank you for getting back to us,” Arnór said. “But I need to get back to work, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Of course, good sir,” Loki said. “Have a good day.” 

Eira watched him as he left, and when she was sure her father wasn’t going to go after her any time soon, she read the note - You’re always welcome in the Library. I’ll be there if you need me.

But she didn’t come there that day. Or the next day. Or the day after. It took nearly a week for her to find a way to escape the house and to enter the Library once more. It was in the middle of the night, when the entire town was sleeping already. Only then could she sneak away from her father’s watch.

She limped into the foyer, choking back painful hisses with each step, her teeth digging into her lower lip. She made it to the base of the beautiful Yggdrasil hologram and sat down there, not really knowing what she was going to do there. She pulled her knees to her chin and stared into the ceiling, desperately trying not to cry.

“Lady Eira,” she heard prince Loki’s voice from somewhere behind her. “I’m so glad to see you alive. I was getting worried.”

She let out a chuckle that came out as more of a sob, tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t see him, but she heard him come closer to her and sit by her side. 

“I got you into trouble, didn’t I?” he asked.

“No, this is what it’s always like,” she shook her head, still not looking at him. “He always finds a reason. If it wasn’t this, he’d probably throw a hammer at me for walking too loudly.”

“But that is… horrible,” he said. “How come no one has found out about it?”

“He is a good actor,” she told him. “And way too popular to be suspected of anything.”

Loki noticed the awkward way she was sitting; all her weight was put on one side of her body. “Are you in pain?”

“N-no, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m used to it.”

“I should take you to the medics,” he said, offering her his hand.

“No, really, I’ll be fine,” she tried to wave her hand dismissively, but the pain that shot through her wrist made her let out a muffled scream.

“Come on, I will not stand for this,” he insisted. “Just take my hand, I will take us there.”

She sighed in defeat and grabbed his hand lightly only for him to squeeze it in reassurance. He closed his eyes and within just a second, they were standing in the New Asgard hospital.

“Your majesty,” a woman greeted him politely. “What brings you here this late at night?”

“Lady Eira’s injuries,” he said, gesturing towards her. The woman looked her over carefully.

“Good gods, what happened to you, my dear?” she asked. “And don’t you tell me you fell down the stairs, this is not how you fall down the stairs. Who did this to you?”

Eira stared into the ground, hoping Loki would speak for her.

“Her father.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, but she did not say anything. Instead, she gently grabbed Eira’s hands, making her look up. “Come on, my child, let’s patch you up.”

She led her to an emergency room, mumbling something about never trusting a man.

“I will come in the morning to see how she is doing,” Loki said, leaving the hospital with anger burning inside him. He couldn’t wait, no - he found the nearest guards and gave them an order to arrest Arnór, two in the morning or not. He wanted to go to his chambers to get some sleep, but his mind would not allow him to rest for even a minute. He ended up inside the hospital again, sitting by Eira’s side and watching her sleep.

“I had to give her Midgardian pain medicine,” the doctor told him. “She will sleep soundly for a long time. She needs to rest.”

“Thank you, madam,” Loki bowed his head. 

“How could this have happened?” she asked. “Her father might be a very strong man, but I never thought he would do something so… so heinous as this!”

“Well, no one would have suspect Odin of being a horrible father either and yet here we are,” he mumbled to himself. The doctor looked at him in confusion, but he simply shook his head dissmissively. 

The morning came with good news - Arnór the blacksmith had been arrested and was put into a holding cell until a trial decided his fate. Not long after that, king Brunnhilde herself stormed into the room.

“What in the name of Odin is this?” she asked him. “Are you seriously going around and arresting our citizens?”

“Your majesty, that man is a danger to all of us,” Loki said. “See for yourself - this is his daughter Eira.”

The king frowned, but took a step closer. Eira was mostly covered with a thick blanket, but her arms and her collarbones were perfectly visible, as were the bruises and scars that stained them.

“Oh gods,” king Brunnhilde mumbled. “He did that to her?”

“Indeed,” Loki nodded. “And those are not even the worse ones. He broke her ribs too. And burned her with something.”

“That motherfucker,” she hissed, making Loki raise his eyebrow in surprise. “I’ve been learning Midgardian language. I thought it was appropriate.”

“Very much so,” Loki smirked. “What do you suggest we do about him?”

“Well, this seems like a pretty clear case, but we still need to put him on a trial,” she sighed. “A public one, so everybody knows.”

“Good idea, your highness,” Loki said.

“Quit that your highness crap, lackey,” she punched his shoulder lightly. He narrowed his eyes at her playfully and smiled.

“As you wish, my king.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s the point of me.”

She left, expressing her hopes for her to get better soon. 

Loki stayed by Eira’s side the whole day, wanting to tell her what he did. When she finally opened her eyes, he smiled.

“Good morning, my lady,” he said. “Or rather good evening.”

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice weak. “I… I can’t be here.”

She tried to sit up, but Loki gently pushed her back. “It is alright, my lady. Your father will not hurt you anymore.”

“Whadyou mean?” she asked, her speech slurred.

“He has been apprehended last night,” he told her. “He is in prison.”

Even though she tried not to let it show, a weight was lifted off her chest as her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“It had to be done, my lady,” he said. “There is no need to thank me.”

“But there is!” she tried to sit up again, failing. “There is, sir. He is a horrible man! I’ve been scared of him my entire life. He killed my mother!”

“What?” Loki frowned. Guilt suddenly crept up to Eira’s face.

“I… I shouldn’t talk about it,” she mumbled.

“There is going to be a trial soon, if you know of any of his crimes, you should bring them to light,” he said.

“I was just a small child then,” she spoke. “Fifty at most. He used to hit her, like he does to me now. He went too far one day, threw that mallet he uses at work at her and it hit her head. There was… blood everywhere and…” her throat tightened. “She just lied there. In the middle of it. He locked me in my room and went somewhere. When he came back, the floor was clean and she was gone.”

“Gods,” Loki mumbled. “But… how did no one know?”

“Good actor,” Eira said. “Too popular.”

“That’s… that’s absolutely preposterous.”

“It’s always been like that. I used to think it was like that everywhere. Even… even in the royal palace.”

“Well, not physically,” Loki uttered. He noticed her struggle to keep her eyes open. “You should sleep, my lady. You need to rest. I will be here when you wake up, I promise.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said again. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Do not mention it, my dear,” he smiled.

It took a few days for Eira to come back to her full strength, and when she did, it was time for the trial to begin. King Brunnhilde called all Asgardians into the largest hall in the palace where it would take place.

To say that Eira was nervous would be an understatement. She was shaking with fear, horrified of seeing her father there. Of what he would do if he somehow won the judge over and she granted him freedom. Loki, whom she grew quite close to, was there to calm her nerves a little, but even he was worried. He trusted Brunnhilde fully, but there was the smallest possibility that everything could go wrong.

“Asgardians!” the king called, and everybody in the room went silent. “I called you all here on this morning for a purpose. That purpose being the very first trial in New Asgard’s history. It came sooner than I’d hoped, but it would have come anyway,” she took a small pause. “You are all here because I wanted you to see what will happen if someone breaks our fairly benevolent laws. I will be judging the man you all know as Arnór Magnussen for his violent crimes.”

All the people began whispering curiously. What could this good man have done?

“Arnór, come forward,” Brunnhilde said, turning everybody’s attention to the group of guards leading him to the defendant’s seat. He stood there, hatred seeping from his glare.

“Are you Arnór Magnussen?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Do you know why you are here today?”

“Because the slimy liar that my bratty daughter is accuses me of something.”

“Pretty much,” Brunnhilde nodded. “You have been accused of the abuse of your daughter Eira and of the murder of your late wife Ebba.”

Another wave of confused whispers went around the room.

“Do you plead guilty?”

“I do not, your highness,” he said and everything went painfully silent. Eira’s heart began beating much harder than before. She hoped that maybe if faced with the facts like that, he would admit his crimes. She could feel Loki’s hand on her shoulder and she grabbed it, trying to anchor herself to the awful reality.

“Are you aware that this will lead to a trial?” Brunnhilde asked.

“That I am, your majesty.”

Even the king’s face was full of pain. Her gaze met with Eira’s and she could see her heart break.

“Then I am calling for Eira Arnórsdóttir, the offendant.”

Without really acknowledging it, Eira stood up and walked to the plaintiff’s seat, not too far from her father. He watched her with so much burning anger that she feared he was going to set her on fire with his gaze only.

“Are you Eira Arnórsdóttir?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Is this your father, Arnór Magnussen?”

“Yes.”

“Is this the same man you claim to be physically and mentally abusing you?”

“Yes,” barely any sound came out, so she nodded and tried again: “Yes, your majesty.”

“The same who you claim to have killed your mother, Ebba Eriksdóttir?”

“Yes.”

“Could you describe to the court what exactly he did to you?”

She nodded again and swallowed thickly. “My father… t-the defendant hit me with b-both his own hands and with t-things he found around the house.”

“What sort of things did the defendant use?”

“Anything, really,” she said. “Plates, cups, cutlery… metal scraps from his shop…”

“And did he hit you with them, or did he throw them at you?”

“Depending on what it was,” she explained. “And on how far I was from his reach.”

“How often did this take place?”

“Nearly every day,” he whispered, feeling tears as they streamed down her cheeks. “For over nine hundred years.”

“Did he use to hit your mother Ebba as well?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Is that how she died?”

“Yes, your majesty,” she said. “He got angry one night and threw a big hammer at her head.”

“Defendant, is this true?” the king turned to Arnór.

“Not in the slightest, your highness,” he shook his head. “I’m a strong man, yes, but I could never hurt a woman, especially not the woman I loved.”

“I see we have some very differing statements here,” she said. “Thank you, lady Eira. I now call lady Hlíf Oskarsdóttir, lady Eira’s doctor.”

The woman that had been taking care of Eira for the past days came forward, earning surprised gasps from everybody present. 

“Are you Hlíf Oskarsdóttir, the doctor on duty when lady Eira came to the hospital with severe injuries?”

“That would be me, your majesty,” she nodded.

“Tell us a little about the injuries, please.”

“Very well,” she nodded. “There were all kinds. A large number of bruises, a few burns, some cuts, one stab wound and three broken ribs. There was also quite a lot of scars and some incorrectly healed bones from the past.”

“And how do you reckon she got all of these?”

“This is not the kind of injuries you get when you fall down the stairs,” she repeated her words from the first night in the hospital. “She has been attacked, multiple times, with objects dull and sharp.”

“Thank you, lady Hlíf,” the king nodded. “Defendant, do you have anything to say?”

“Lies. All lies,” he insisted.

“Is that all?”

“Well, yes.”

“Asgardians,” she turned to the audience. “Need you hear more to judge this man’s crimes?”

No one said anything, no one asked any further questions.

“Then tell me,” she said. “Is there anyone in favour of him?”

No one. Not one single hand raised.

“And who believes the words of his daughter and her doctor?”

Everybody’s hand shot up into the air. Tears blurred Eira’s vision, but for the first time, they were tears of happiness.

“Arnór Magnussen, please rise from your seat,” she waited for him to comply. “You have been accused of the abuse of your daughter Eira and of the murder of your late wife Ebba. The people have claimed you guilty. Since New Asgard does not believe in violence, I hereby sentence you to a lifetime in prison.” 

Had Eira not still been paralysed by fear, she would have jumped in pure delight. Instead, she let out a strangled sigh of relief and closed her eyes tightly.

“You won, my dear,” she heard Loki’s voice next to her ear as the guards took Arnór out. “You won.”

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “It can’t be true.”

[honestsycrets]

Soiled V: I Won’t (Be Quiet)

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | Hvitserk comes to an agreement with the brothers. the reader is backed up into a corner.

❛  warnings | attempted assault, fighting, verbal argument, reference to a murder.

“So what?” Valtýr speaks with an oily smooth quality. His arm holds you back toward his brother Jonakr whose hold on you is gentle. Firm enough to keep you in place but gentle enough to show you the empathy you deserved. “I hear you left her, so why should I not take her?”

“Because she is a free woman.”

Hvitserk pulls another arrow free and fits it to the string of his bow. Jonakr calls out a command to his men. When his men raise to arm, it’s under the point of the sword of Hvitserk’s army. This doesn’t worry him, you realize. Jonakr may seem concerned but Valtýr is not. He steps off of the altar place. Then approaching Hvitserk, he raises his hands up.

“There are no free women in Norway, Hvitserk. There are the women of the conquered and the conquerors.” Jonakr tugs the strand back. He threatens to release it. Your chest thuds a staccato beat, aware of the chaos that will insue. He will kill the prince. Chaos will break loose. Jonakr would kill him. In turn, Ivar might kill Hvitserk and--

“Why are you here?” you call from the altar.

For a second, it doesn’t register that you’re speaking to him. But then Hvitserk looks up. All the specialness of the moment has worn off. He isn’t your intended Hvitserk-- who fought the Swedes to get you back. He’s Hvitserk Ragnarsson, betrothed to Thora, who is coming to bring you back there.

Where you would see them marry.

Watch them have their first child together.

And have nothing to do but bury yourself in booze and Thyri’s arms.

Valtýr swirls around, his hand lazily patting the orb embroidery upon his chest. “Oh?” he sniffs. “You mean to tell me that you don’t want him here?”

“I don’t want you here either.” You snap. The prince spins around, and despite your heart pounding a drumbeat that reverberates louder and louder, you hold steady.

“What did you say?” he spits out.

“I said,” you jerk your arm from Jonakr, smoothing your skirt out. “I do not want you here. I can tell you are a cruel, superficial man. Worse so than Hvitserk.”

Hvitserk lifts his eyebrows as if he can’t make sense of it. Him? Superficial? Hardly. Valtýr purses his lips together, almost speaking. You move to join Valtýr in approaching Hvitserk. You sway to a stop.

“Then I challenge you to a duel. If I win, you’ll be my wife. I’ll enjoy your body in my sheets and, I’ll fill you with my, what was it you said? My cruel seed.” Valtýr takes three long strides toward you. His chest bumps yours, obvious in his intention to scare you in submission. His hand drops, squeezing your ass through the thin silk of your dress. He whispers in your ear, “And if you win, which you won’t, well, we can figure it out then.”

“You cannot challenge a woman to a duel, brother,” Jonakr says.

“Always with the bleeding heart.” Valtýr rolls his eyes. “When will you understand that some women need to be put in their place.”

“You would suggest doing níðingsverk?”

“What did you call me, brother?”

“Níðingr.”

Harried, the brothers push into one another’s faces. You can tell the sort of man Jonakr is. A man who raided and lived by the sword, but was very much Norse. He had his morals, his principles. You doubt that Valtýr had ever lived by such things despite his fine dress and good looks.

“I will duel you in her place. My men in your village will duel for their women.” Hvitserk says. His bow clatters, dropping it onto the ground. He steps from the safety of his men, his hand resting upon the grip of his sword. “I only want to defend her honour.”

Valtýr looks in wry amusement when your head snaps around to Hvitserk. “Deal.”

“No,” you tell Hvitserk. “I will not have you duel a prince for me.”

“You are much prettier when you’re quiet, (Y/N). Shut up.” Valtýr says, almost idly. “This is an agreement between men.”

You bite your tongue. For the time being, that was.

Hvitserk sets his hand to your back, bringing you back to the reality of your situation. An agreement between men for the next day meant that with suspicious confidence, Hvitserk could have a small conversation with you away from Valtýr and in sight of Jonakr.

“I’ll kill him.” He tells you, “Have faith in me.”

“I do not want you to kill him. I want you to tell me why you came back for me when you have a woman at home who loves you.” You fold your arms over one another, flicking your palm toward your chest. “You’ve made it clear that I am your used goods.”

“I’ve never--” Hvitserk stumbles over his words, his reasoning. He’s never said it, no, but he acted by it.

“You have! You know you have!” you at last erupt, at last, reaching out to so powerfully slap him. His cheek snaps to the side, bright red with your assault.  It should be humiliating. The highest insult a woman could give. One that would be worthy of a divorce if you were married.

But then-- Hvitserk made sure you weren’t.

Your hands rain down on his chest, yanking him in your frustration. All you ever wanted was to see something from him. Action-- something to show that you were loved by him when you knew that you... were not. Not in the way you should have been. Hvitserk grasps your wrists.

“I don’t care anymore. Do you not get it? I don’t care if they force me to marry them. If they... if they--”

“Make you love them?” Hvitserk leans in, asserting himself. His head turns, lips against your skin. “Force you to lay with them?! Make you give them children?!”

You turn into his face, trailing a hand over the scruffy side of his face. In the past year-- he’s grown beyond that trim little boy with braids to a young man with hair braided… different. Uniquely different. His facial hair makes him seem more of a man and less of a boy, but your same old Hvitserk. Though the tears fall, and your lips press together, you sob.

“It’s more than you could give me.”

And to those words, his own fail.

As per usual, it wasn’t your marriage night.

You took off the crown and set it aside. The tall tower held you prisoner for that evening. While Hvitserk and Jonakr oversaw duels to assign women to those of Kattegat-- or of Birka. From the tall tower, you watch men stand on either side of a long cloak, draw their swords and bare their shields for their women. All the while knowing that tomorrow, Hvitserk would fight with that… monster. You run your comb through your long hair on the steps of the window.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” you hear behind you. You whip around as his jaunty tune travels to your ear. Valtyr stands behind you.

“Fighting for their women. Such valiant effort, even knowing that they’ll lose. I say the green will win,” you turn your head back, looking out of the door toward the valiant male who fights wildly for his wife. If you ignored him, perhaps he would go away.

Only he doesn’t.

His fingers glide over your neck, massaging your neck up toward your jawline. His grip tightens and he promptly yanks you back, flush against his chest. Your fingers curl in with nowhere yet to go. And no one else here to care for you. His hand tightens, curling about your throat.

“You know you’re not leaving this tower.” His hand wanders, the pads of his fingers glide in a smooth stroke over your chest, dipping beneath the white fabric of a modest nightgown. He squeezes you through the dress, index and middle finger pinching your hardened nipple. Whatever hyperfixation caused this-- you wish it would stop.

But this man-- he wasn’t normal.

“Let me go…” you whisper something that you know, deep down-- wouldn’t happen.

“No.”

You turn your head back down, curtains around his hand. “You came to…” you don’t finish that sentence. You know what he’s come here for. You feel his dick pressed against your back, hard and proud.

“You know what I came for.”

It’s a toss-up. Who will run first-- but as the cat to the mouse, you knew that you had to move first. You lurch off the warm furs that softened the jagged edge of the steps. Valtyr finds humour in your attempt, dragging you back by your hair.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he laughs. “There’s nowhere to run.”

You’ve been here before. In a scenario where someone thought you a lot more defenseless than you actually were, fisting a chunk of your hair and yanking your skirts up over the curve of your ass. You should be whining or sobbing, but its as if someone dug deep into your mind to pull you to some semblance of… sanity. Perhaps, as you think, it is the need to fight.

“I told my brother. The best way to keep a woman? Hm? Impregnate her. You’ll have no option.”

You’re sick of being a man’s plaything. With Hvitserk as a man’s toy-- like with the brothers, or brother, as Valtyr seemed to be the worst of the pair. It’s a simplistic annoyance. You’re annoyed with being… used.

This moment might have broke you. One minute, he had you on the floor, mounting your hips. Between your legs. Kisses. Bites. Marks. The next minute, you balled up a fist, punching the side of his temple with such force that he tips, stunted. You don’t stop there. Not with his knife prodding your stomach earlier. You lurch for it, pulling it free and impaling him to the floor with it.

This man was an idiot. A complete, utter idiot, and you were not. You weren’t going to stop there. You wouldn’t be that woman to sulk around a house with a man you hated forcing you to have child after child, care for the children and warm his cock with a plate full of food. You accept that life isn’t for you. And you’re ready to take care of the man that... that was the source of all your rage in that moment; with your knife.

And it erupts.

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