#oh that bit about them 'arguing' and the lady wanting to pray for them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-ghost-king · 4 years ago

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Me 0.1 seconds after reading your post about Will being Mothman simp: omg solangelo west virginia interstate dates 🖤 💛

Hey, it’s me again, the napping Nico person. Idk if you’re planning on writing 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 a story but if you did so, I’d love to read it, just wanted to tell you that. Hope you have a great day :)

@napping-nico I hope you have a great day as well! ;)

My apologies for the wait, as always I’ll reblog with the link to the Ao3 version!

Nico and Will go camping, something about tents and stars, Nico talks about military school and how camping was their idea of fun, in the morning they go along the river front and visit the mothman statue and maybe go on the river boat... Theme is it should be written like Ari + Dante staying in the desert overnight in the truck

Nature was something Nico loved, something he respected.

Growing up as a child hunting excursions had been a commonality in his home, they didn’t really need to go hunting; if they wanted fresh game there would have been a hundred men at their door asking for the chance to shoot for the di Angelo’s.

His Nonno had always liked it, to Nonno hunting had never been about hunting and it had never been about the camping that came with the trips either. Hunting, as Nico had known it as a child, had always been about politics; the excursions a place, a way, and an excuse to make deals.

In Military academies, camping trips were their idea of a good fun time.

A couple hundred boys and girls hiking out into the middle of Nowhere Forest loaded up with camping gear and taught how to cook food over open flame, and how to assemble tents in just a minute or two. The humdrum of set up, sleep, and take down with interjections and complaints sporadic throughout.

Nico had never minded camping, he found it some sort of calm. He liked the quiet, divine sort of life that nature provided. Nico had stood in front of gods and never felt power quite like that of a large old forest.

(Gods were bright and burning in their divinity, the air around them crackled and your throat was always tight and dry... Forests weren’t like that).

There was something about sleeping on the ground among all the living things, some sort of serene quality to it. He’d lay there among the sounds of his grandfathers disgruntled tossing and turning, and the annoyed complaints of other boys longing for their real beds, and Nico would breathe in the cold air of the natural world and feel something akin to home.

His chest would expand and he’d feel some kind of emotion in his sternum, like the plants and branches themselves were growing forth from his lungs with each chilling breath in, and they were expanding in the depths of his lungs and heart in a silent agreement of mutual affection and love.

To say the least Nico had always slept his absolute best outside.

Will on the other hand was a country boy at heart, he’d grown up in the middle of I Live 500+ Miles From Civilization Texas and backyards became camp grounds every spring and summer.

For Nico camping had always been treated like a fun little activity and Nico had taken it upon himself to find the divinity in each excursion. As for Will, camping was just something you did sometimes. He didn’t have some complex connection to the act of setting up a tent and sleeping inside of it, the closest Will came to anything intensely memorable about camping was bonfires.. But his family was large and they all lived near one another, bonfires were a nightly thing not necessarily a camping thing within his family.

To say the least, when Will asked him if he’d like to go camping in the middle of Fuck-All West Virginia Nico was absolutely in agreement. Sure he was a little confused as to why exactly they had to go all the way to West Virginia when they already lived in the middle of nowhere Texas, but he was sure there was a decent reason, as a demigod you learned to go with the flow sometimes.

What Nico hadn’t expected was that they would be heading to a quaint little West Virginian campground because his fiancé was a slut for Mothman.

Nico looked over to Will as he climbed out of the drivers seat of the truck, “Cyrtids aren’t going to fuck you if you manage to find them.”

Will looks at him from outside the car, “I’d be just as happy to let them kill me slowly.”

“That’s my job!” Nico glares at him for a second and sees Will smiling at him happily.

“Well then, you’ll have to protect me won’t you, darlin’?”

“Hmph,” Nico climbed out of the passenger seat and walked around to the bed of the truck to help Will unload the truck and set up camp for later that evening.

They pulled out all their equipment so they could set up their trunk tent; listen, sleeping on the ground in a tent was one thing, sleeping in the open air of the truck bed was another, but figuring out you could combine both of them? Nico had been in heaven.

They spend the time they work bickering, back and forth with light quips about the things each other had packed and how they packed them. They both had self-satisfied smirks on their faces the whole time, and they unapologetically threw pillows at one another while they were supposed to be readying their bed.

Some older lady had walked by at some point and with a gasp of shock she’d looked at both of them sadly, “What are your names? I want to pray for you.”

Nico, ever the expert with old people and children looked to her kindly, “Forgive me, why are you interested in praying for us?”

The woman goes on a long spiel about how young relationships are hard work, she starts talking about how from the sound of all their fighting they sure needed a lot of work if they were ever going to love each other properly. She tells them about how she wants to pray for them so that they won’t fight anymore and they’ll be happy.

When she finishes Nico is trying his hardest not to laugh so Will handles her, “Thank you ma’am, but I assure you we’re just happy to entertain the public.”

The lady has the most offended look on her face when Will tells her that, she picks up her woven bag from the ground and storms off to the sound of Nico’s poorly contained laughter.

They finish setting up the inside of their tent and locking their food and valuables up in the truck all while still cracking jokes and making quips, “I just want to pray for you and your relationship” Nico says with a mock praying gesture towards Will.

The blonde laughs back at him, “at least she didn’t assume we were brothers.”

Will locks the truck to the sound of his own quiet laugh Nico’s annoyed groan that borderlines on disgust.

"You'll pay for that comment!"

"Promise?"

They end up on the Riverwalk around dinner time, they took a break from normal camping adventures like public bathrooms and trying to start a fire so they could instead go look at a statue of Will's oldest crytid-crush.

Somehow the thing was taller than 6"2 Will, almost doubling him in height with its polished glory. It had dark red ruby eyes on either side of its face, and the coloration of the creature had been handled by carving and removing parts of it until it resembled some sort of 6 packed moth.

Nico didn't really see the appeal, but Will found sharp teeth "simp worthy" so Nico supposed if he was happy that was enough.

He seemed in awe of the beast, staring up at it in wonder and awe- maybe a bit aroused too... This was Will after all, the dude was obsessed with that one demon character from the Blue Butler show? Black Butler?

Maybe Austin was right, maybe Will really did have a type.

Will gets bored after a while, and fifty or so pictures later, they decide to head back to the truck, Will blabbering the whole walk back about star gazing and maybe seeing the real Mothman fly by overhead while they do so.

They head back to the truck where there's food to be cooked over the fire, and they eat in their little bed-of-the-trunk-tent that amazes Nico everytime he sees it. The modern world has some crazy inventions sometimes, Nico spent a solid week on their living room floor obsessed with Will's Xbox and how it worked.

The tent was a light orange color with cream accents on it, inside it was gray, and they'd laid a spread of multicolored blankets and pillows out to sleep on. The top part of it opened with a little screened window piece, and up above them there were stars in the sky.

Nico crawled in to lay on his back so he could look out their little unzipped window, and he could hear Will doing something outside before he climbed in behind Nico.

"Alright?"

"Hmph."

"Good."

They lay in silence for a few minutes, both of them just lost in the sight of the stars and thoughts of the person breathing next to them. Will turns over first, just to look at Nico, so Nico gives him a taste of his own medicine and does the same.

Nico decides then to take a pillow and hit Will's shoulder with it, "Sap."

He's not angry, it's not an accusation, it's just a fact; Will's a romantic and especially so for Nico.

"Maybe so," He's smiling at Nico, "I got you something if you'd like to see it?"

"Oh?" Nico fakes coy in response and earns an exasperated look from Will.

"Here."

He hands him something small, places the little trinket in Nico's hands. Nico opens his hands to see little earrings of a dark moth with red eyes, they're silver on the backs and Mothman is painted on the front of them. This version is much cuter than the statue version.

"Thank you," Nico places a kiss to Will's lips.

"I know you don't really like Mothman as much as me," there's a slight pause where they both chuckle, "but I don't know, I thought maybe you would like them because they would remind you of this? I don't know, I sorry, it's just-"

Nico pets a hand through Will's hair, "I love you, and I love them, don't apologize for buying me things."

Will gets a little stressed sometimes to say the least, he had managed to get off his anxiety meds back when they were still at camp, but he sometimes still found himself in spirals. Nico didn't entirely understand anxiety, but he did know what it felt like to feel constantly inadequate, and he knew what depression felt like, and he'd like to think he can help a little.

It took both of them some time together to realize that they couldn't love each other's problems away. Even though they both had been told it didn't work like that, they were hopeful and in love and thought that maybe they could create something different. Eventually they both did come to realize that they just had to hold the other persons hand, and sometimes one of them stepped up when the other couldn't keep up the pace, but it was better that way.

You can't love someone through anything, love isn't a cure, but you can hold their hand through it and remind them that you love them.

Nico pulls Will closer, lets him lay his head on his shoulder, and they stare up into the night sky together. Nico whispers into his ear his own thanks for the gift, and let's his words change into sweet nothings. Talking about how much he loved Will, and when they head back down South how his Mom would be home from her latest tour, and he listens closely when Will tells him about some Mothman documentary that he watched.

And Nico falls asleep some point shortly after Will, he can fill his lovers heartbeat if he reaches out for him, he can feel his life force strong and present. Nico can feel the life ebbing out of the field that surrounds them, he can feel the life that makes the trees grow.

Nico falls asleep, warm, comfortable, and basking in the life around him.

Everything will be just fine.

#nico di angelo #pjo #hoo #will solace #solangelo #My work #i think this turned out okay #I didn't properly communicate everything I wanted to #And I feel the point got lost somewhere but idk #hopefully you like it!!#ill upload to ao3 later today #anyhow! Ask to be tagged in my writing uploads!#oh that bit about them 'arguing' and the lady wanting to pray for them #Thats from a YouTube couple I watch #I thought it was a funny scenario but I don't think I executed it properly #Im bad at writing humor 😅😅

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baeddel · 2 years ago

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do u ever have trouble making friends w ppl who dont have the same awareness as u? like not even different or more awareness, either less or no awareness... of like, politics or critical thinking or societal issues... or do you prefer to have some ppl in ur life that u can never be serious or critical with ?

long and you get a bit of a lecture sorry

your coworkers are probably not any less engaged than you, you just don't agree with them. my mother's previous boss belongs to this charismatic Pentecostal milieu. you get a minister who founds a church in his living room. they pack in about twenty middle class ulstermen and pray together, sing hyms and speak in tongues. when they've collected enough tithes they buy a little building or something. in less than a year it will collapse because of a ferocious ideological struggle or, just as often, an adultery scandal. gasp! then they pack into someone else's living room to pray and argue. she and her husband write these little political-theological pamphlets to distribute within their milieu. at school she'll go in the office and hold a prayer session with others like her. they practice what my grandmother sarcastically calls 'good living.' as her son grew older he became interested in fantasy fiction and she asked me to lend him some of my books. among a bunch of other things i gave him all my Terry Pratchett, including some of his late books that mixed fiction and nonfiction. these were returned the next day, which i was told was because he asked her to return them because they mentioned Darwin and it frightened him so much he didn't want it in the house. they are also by the way anti-vaxx, young earth creationists and so forth. she was very rowdy at work during the George Floyd protests. my mother used to come home shaking and start ranting to me about it. and i was stunned by just how radical her views had become; my mother, the only person in our neighbourhood who'll call the cops, who at the start was so concerned about looters, now talking to me about the task of black liberation, educated not by leftist propaganda but by the negation of church ladies' racist prattle. anyway, once i was getting this little holy card of a particular saint (i don't remember which) but, because i guess the website was really for clergy, you had to get them in packs of fifty. i asked my mum if she would give the rest to that very religious woman she worked with since she could pass them around the congregation—certainly not, she had to remind me. iconography. oh yeah, oops...

this isn't someone who is lacking awareness of the issues. it's just that their theoretical touchstone isn't Marx but Martin Luther. or Ray Comfort. but you would be quite surprised at just how aware your conservative neighbours are of critique if you'd really talk to them. i used to use this dating advice site where heterosexuals would go to give each other awful advice and talk about current events, and most of the userbase were US republicans of various sorts. i would sit down and argue with them every day. to back up their arguments they'd abuse studies and statistics in the usual way, but you might be surprised to hear they were not the least bit shy to talk to me about Foucault. one gentleman countered my Marx with his own Hegel, and i would very often hear from Burke, who's remark about society's 'little platoons' has become such a cliche on the American right that now it'll make most conservatives roll their eyes (in 2018 the American Conservative ran with the headline: Knock It Off With The 'Little Platoons' Already).

you'd know that if you sat down and talked with them in a way where you could be completely honest with each other, but you're probably never in that situation. they know you don't want to hear all that stuff. you'd get in a big fight, so they settle for talking about the ordinary topics of conversation or try and bond with you over something which seems politically neutral. an old neighbour of mine would make me take all these CDs because he knew i played guitar. he gave me this instrumental album by The Shadows, the backing band for Cliff Richard, since "one of them guitarists on there", he assured me, was "the best guitarist in the world." he'd always invite me over to get drunk with him and i'd always politely decline since i was trying to be sober. "i don't drink now," i'd say. "you'll learn!" he'd say. not drinking all the time was incomprehensible to him. but he was a UVF man. i knew that, somewhere, in another life that he led, he was confronting the concrete questions of organization, the theoretical problems of loyalism, coordinating with foreign arms and so forth. what did he think about the Good Friday Agreement, decomission, all the rest? how did he hold onto the values of family and community when his concrete activity consisted of racketeering and intimidation? i wish i went drinking with him when i did have the chance. i loved sitting down to drink with all those old crooks. as a homosexual i’d be all over Belfast, or as far up as Antrim, or down by Armagh, exploring boy’s bedrooms. every family is ‘connected’, so i met dangerous fathers and uncles of every sort; IRA men, UVF men, UDA men. and as much as my crossdressing alarmed them, it was good manners to invite me to drink. and alcohol works a kind of magic. they’ll get excited enough to tell you a big story that they set aside all the problems; now you’re sharing something authentic with a guy who, in any other situation, would be threatening your knees. anyway, you get talking about things. the intellectual field on offer was limitless. Carlos Castaneda, Aleister Crowley, William Burroughs, Salvador Dali, Bertolt Brecht, Jacques Brel, Joni Mitchell, Pink Floyd, the Doors. there was always a sort of sad nostalgia to these conversations. you get these guys who were, deep in their hearts, beatniks and hippies, who joined the UDA for the drugs and glamour. did they want to spend the rest of their lives as fascist bullies, defending lines on a map they can’t even fully explain? most of the paramilitary men i met had been through this ‘internal emigration’, into a sort of unhappy anti-political consciousness. it reminds me of Monsieur Dupont’s discussion of certain workplace militants in Nihilist Communism:

[W]e should like it to go on the record that we have met with several workplace militants and for the most part they have no political consciousness. Many of these militants are very anti-political, we would say they were post-political, but how did they become militants if they did not receive political instruction? Their condition is one of absolute refusal of the legitimacy of the manager, an absolute intransigence over specific workplace issues and a kind of terrifying site-specificity producing in them an absolute refusal to look at the wider picture (like Ahab on the back of the white whale they are consumed with a madness for not escaping). We do not endorse such militants, we see them as being stuck in a loop of restricted gestures which their identity seems to depend upon, what would they do if they had not their struggle? It is a fact of our experience that most workplace militants are quite mad and/or not especially very nice people to know; it is important not to get wrapped up in their personal feuds but still we would argue that these mad-eyed prophets are in advance of those who are politically motivated, in advance and waiting in the desert, gone mad with waiting, gnawing at locusts, sitting on poles. Some of them, and of a certain age, cite Pink Floyd, and not Marx, as the biggest influence on their lives. They required only a narrative of otherness, something that was not contained in the usual cause and effects of everyday life to legitimise their dispute. Will the misty master break me, will the key unlock my mind? For such people, the A to В thinking of most pro-revolutionary activists is too basic and not even appropriate to the situation. To them it means nothing to ‘speak in a language the workers understand’ because nobody has ever spoken such a language.

Monsieur Dupont are criticizing you, by the way—this idea that ‘political consciousness’ (in your case an even more timid ‘awareness of societal issues’) is something desirable or progressive, which pro-revolutionaries should be trying to raise. isn’t the problem often the opposite, an excessive awareness of societal issues, like a kind of tinnitus that doesn’t stop ringing in the ears? their workplace militant reminds me of a guy my father knew—’radicalized’ by Pink Floyd, but who got sucked into conspiracy theories by the internet. he was a nice guy who would do anything for you, and my father had asked him to drive me home one night. he would talk to you the entire way home and when he talked to you he would stare at you and wouldn’t look at the road at all. he told me all about HAARP, the NWO, chemtrails, the occult causes of earthquakes, the damage radiation is doing to your body because of telephones and microwaves, and how he wrote a 300-page pamphlet to give to his son’s teacher disputing all of the false science they were teaching. during our conversation a light on his phone began to blink, which he decided was because they must have been listening, whereupon he ripped the battery out of the phone and threw the whole thing out the window. when we got to my place he gave me the address to his facebook page where he predicts the future, but when i looked it up the next day it was gone.

i knew a lot of conspiracy theory guys. to live in a country like this you have to go insane, it’s unbearable. conspiracy theorism has a split consciousness; there’s an enjoyment of occult symbols, gematric connections, divination and spiritism, while at the same time attributing these things to evil powers, the explanation of which should inspire the hearer to their political undoing. many conspiracy theorists are also occultists, or move between one and the other with a little embarassment. in any case, it relies on a relationship to societal issues that is beyond awareness, in fact a hyperawareness. i suppose the opposite side is one sort of self-depricating disavowal of agency which is very common among young lumpen/proletarians, who belong to Oscar Lewis’s culture of poverty. the culture of poverty is a kind of alienated consciousness which results from a disidentification with the institutions of society. he was trying to explain how it was the case that even when many social programs exist, lumpen/proles do not make use of them; nor do they join in with class conscious organizations (such as unions) that enable collective struggle. it’s because, he determined, they didn’t interpret any information about those programs or organizations as being relevant to themselves. they don’t regard themselves as citizens of their own country. if disillusioned fascists take an ‘inner emigration’, disillusioned lumpen/proles are ‘inner illegal immigrants’. this is how i think through a certain consciousness which is quite typical among my peers. they regard the church, politics, the media, the results of natural sciences, art and poetry with equal cynicism while, at the same time, they regard themselves as total morons, invincibly incapable of agency or analysis. many of my highschool classmates didn’t do their homework or participate in tests and left school without even attempting to acquire qualifications. if you asked them about it they’d be completely honest with you: what’s the point? it’s not that they thought education had no purpose in society, they just felt it had no purpose for them, as they were not such a subject which could be cultivated. yet if you did not share their cynicism they would be very angry with you. one of my friends told us how he once caught his sister reading a book and was so angry with her that he ripped it out of her hands and threw it away. there was something fundamentally dishonest to him about reading. you were putting something on, acting above your station. it mystified me, since i would go home and immerse myself in Plato and Eddic poetry, yet neither was i any more tolerant of school or society. who could say why we felt so differently though having such a similar background? here is another very demonstrative example: one of our friends, when some missionaries came by to give out bibles, made a show of throwing his in the bin. why throw it in the bin? because he was a politically convinced atheist who hated the Church and its lies. most people thought he was a tosser for that. but were they themselves deeply Christian? no, not remotely: they would mime the hyms and fall asleep in RE just like everyone else. like the conspiracy theorist they had a kind of split consciousness; neither society nor the destruction of society had any claim on their hearts.

i can’t really talk about it, but things happened that did engage these other kids in a political or militant direction, despite all those things, at which they were very successful. then when the battle was over, in some ways won and in some ways lost, they went back to alienated life. most of them had children before they turned twenty and now i only hear about them in the part of the newspaper that reports on court cases, whenever they’re in trouble for vandalizing a pub and ‘found in the possession of a certain quantity of ketamine.’ this is why i’m sympathetic to the Duponts’ fetishistic elevation of material conditions over consciousness. but in any case, here is how i handle things now: in my estimation most people suffer, intellectually, because they belong to a racket. they have to share space with roommates, work at a workplace, belong to a family, or even associate with a political party, and they depend on these things for food, shelter, and intimacy. these things place harsh limits on what they can acceptably think or feel and in their soul they resign and acquiesce. whatever thrills, excites or even frightens them becomes latent in their soul, meanwhile they say the things which are expected of them. when this is true your conversations, even heated arguments, are predestined by their relevance to a pre-determined intellectual regime which your argument merely performs. it doesn’t matter what political or social issues you have these conversations about; they don’t contribute anything that isn’t already fully present in the agitating subject. nodding conversations between radicals and screaming matches between enemies are just as alienated as the most unlikely conspiracy theories and the most depressing cynicisms. what you want to do is allow someone to express some authentic excitement with you. actually listen to what they have to say and don’t judge them. be open to their system of values without imposing your own; don’t expect to hear about Marx, and try to stop cringing at hippies and beatniks and acid casualties and music hipsters and movie guys and any other form of enthusiasm you’ve been trained to think is naive. you’re trying to find what someone considers their own and give them an opportunity to express their ownness. then you can be as ‘serious’ as you like with them.

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 years ago

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Touch her again & I’ll kill you | JJ Maybank x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: After multiple run ins with harassment from Rafe, JJ finds out what has been going on and doesn’t like it one bit. #protective JJ

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for requesting xx

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! Warning: harassment, sexual advances/sexual harassment, blood, fighting. if anything like this is triggering, please don’t read. and if I missed any other warnings, please please comment and I will put it on here!

As you sat next to Sarah and another kook girl, lounging by the country club’s pool, you regretted coming out. Maybe you should have just gone fishing with JJ and the boys; Kie had a family function she couldn’t miss.

You especially felt that regret when you saw Topper heading toward you and his goons following; Rafe Cameron being one of them.

Sarah and you had been friends for a couple years and during those couple years, it never failed that Rafe would say something to you that crossed the line. Rafe Cameron had seen you as this trophy; a trophy he would try to get with all of Sarah’s friends. You were the only one who hadn’t fallen for his bull shit and he’d found the chase as his own personal mission.

You’d hoped the harassing would come to an end when you and JJ started dating, but it only seemed to get worse.

“Looking beautiful as ever, ladies.” Topper greets Sarah with a kiss.

You tried to look occupied, texting JJ to ask how fishing was going.

“You ready to leave the pogue trash for something better yet?” Rafe asks from behind your lounge chair, leaning in dangerously close. You could feel his breath on your neck; there was a tinge of mint and of course alcohol.

“Me and JJ are fine,” You knew during all these encounters, you should say something back, stand your ground but you were terrified of Rafe. Terrified of what he would do to you if you stood up to him..

His fingers mess with the ties of your bikini top, “baby I didn’t ask if the two of you are fine, I asked if you were ready to leave him.” He rounds the chair, taking the seat on the edge of the chair in between your legs.

You’d hoped and prayed someone would stop him from harassing you. maybe one of his friends? A bystander?; You knew Sarah would never and didn’t blame her. You’d asked her after the 4th encounter if she would tell Rafe to stop, that it made you uncomfortable. She approached him that night after you left. The two of them argued and she came over the next day with a black eye. You didn’t ask her again.

Your phone buzzed next to you and when you picked it up to read the text, Rafe jumped at the opportunity, grabbing the phone from your hands, “Oh who is this that you are texting?”

“Rafe quit it.” You reach for it but he holds it away, “Rafe seriously!”

“Oh it’s JJ baby with a heart by his name,” He teases, “makes me want to vomit.” He stands, beginning to read the text, it was a photo of JJ holding a huge fish he’d just caught with a text under it, “I’d say it’s going pretty good, we’re eating good tonight.”

“What a tool.” Rafe laughs and you see his fingers typing.

“Rafe, stop what are you doing?” You stand again trying to stop him but he turns away, continuing the antic, “Rafe stop!”

“Okay okay.” He chuckles, turning around and handing you your phone back, “I’m just messing with you. I didn’t text him anything.”

JJ didn’t know about how Rafe treats you. You didn’t want him to know because if he did, he’d go after Rafe and knowing Rafe, there’s a chance he would kill JJ. Rafe had already threatened JJ’s life if you told him. You were stuck and didn’t have a way out.

“You okay?” JJ places his hand on your lower back. You, him and the other pogues were entering the park where they were holding a summer movie night. Your mind was elsewhere, especially when you saw Rafe’s blue pick up truck parked in the lot. Just knowing he was here, sent your anxiety through the roof.

You forced a smile, nodding, “I’m great.”

After finding the perfect spot, your eyes danced around the faces in the lawn trying to spot Rafe before he spotted you, but it was too late he was already feet from you.

“Hey pogues.” Rafe announces as he steps up behind you, his hand lightly on your lower back. You try not to cower at his touch, not wanting to alarm anyone.

“Rafe, what are you doing here?” Kie says with a roll of her eyes. “This doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“Yeah,” His eyes look down on you, “Rose thought it would be a great family outing.” He’s subtle as his knuckles rub your lower back.

JJ hadn’t noticed the interaction as he was distracted with Pope, arguing about the drinks and snacks in the small cooler.

“Sarah said come see her before the movie ends,” He directs it to you, hand still on your back.

JJ had looked up now, his eyes taking in Rafe with his hand on your back and your shrunken and uncomfortable form. But just as quick as he’d seen it, Rafe had already moved himself from the group, heading back toward his family.

JJ watched as your shoulders sagged, like you had been holding in your breath.

About half way through the movie, your bladder was full and bouncing your knee up and down wasn’t helping. You knew you couldn’t wait until the end of the movie, but had held it as long as you could. You were scared if you headed toward the bathroom Rafe would follow you.

You take a look over your shoulder and spot Rafe with his family, his attention is on Wheezie and something in her hand. Maybe you could sneak away.

You place your hand on JJ’s arm, whispering, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” He nods, sitting up straighter as you stand, “you want me or Kie to accompany you?”

You shook your head, “watch the movie, this is your favorite part.” you give him a reassuring smile and squeeze his shoulder as you walk toward the bathrooms, trying to avoid Rafe seeing you and getting in anyones way of the screen.

Unlucky for you, the bathrooms felt like a mile away, situated at the entrance of the park. You could barely hear the movie from the speakers.

You quickly used the bathroom and as you were exiting you ran into someone’s hard chest; Rafe. “Rafe.” you place a hand over your beating heart, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He glances over his shoulder, he was in the clear, not a soul in sight. “Perfect place if you ask me,”

“What?” Your face is contorted in confusion, trying to side step him, but he blocks you.

“I mean you couldn’t have picked a better place. You waited a while but I could be patient.” Before you can react, he has your back against the brick wall, his hands fondling their way around your body.

“Rafe, what the hell are you doing!” You shriek, trying your best to push him off.

“I saw the looks you were giving me, this is what you wanted. I know it is.” His hot breath is on your neck.

“That is not what was going on!” You try again to push him away, but this angers him, his hand wraps tightly around your throat, holding you against the wall.

“Stop fucking moving. How dare you bring him with you? Kiss him, hug him, right in front of me? What are you trying to make me mad? You trying to flaunt him off?”

“Rafe,” You gasp, nails digging into his skin, but he’s unfazed, “Rafe please-”

“What the fuck!”

You gasp for air as Rafe’s hands leave your neck and his body is thrown to the ground. You’re met with a red faced JJ. You’d never seen him as angry as he was in that moment.

He thought you were taking longer than needed and thought he’d check on you, especially seeing that interaction with Rafe. When he approached, he didn’t expect to see Rafe’s hand on your throat and his other hand roaming your body. He saw red.

“She wanted it, begged me for it!” Rafe defends, shaking the dirt off him, “Fucking slut.”

JJ looked between Rafe and you; you didn’t look like that interaction was wanting. You were scared, terrified. Tears forming in your (color) eyes.

JJ turned quickly punching Rafe, he never seen it coming. JJ climbed atop him, his punches not slowing down. His hand gripped Rafe’s nice polo, now stained with blood and yanked him toward him, “You ever, I mean ever, touch her again. Hell you even look at her.” He was seething, his teeth clinched in anger, “I will kill you. I’m not scared to go to jail for murder,” His lips slowly turn into a smile, “Hell, I’ll smile while I kill you and smile as they carry me away in cuffs.” He tosses his body back in the dirt.

You let out a sob and clinch onto him as JJ long arms wrap around you. He holds you for a moment, “shh.. it’s okay, I’m here.” His fingers run through your hair, trying to calm you.

He pulls back from you, hands cradling your head and his eyes locked on yours, “let’s get you home, yeah?”

JJ took you home and cared for you. He ran you a warm bath, made a cup of your favorite drink and sat next to you on the bed. You hadn’t said a word since you left the park and he wasn’t going to push you.

He reaches for you, gently caressing your cheek and notices the bruise already forming on your neck, where Rafe had his grimy hand. He feels the anger boiling again. His knuckles are gentle on your neck, inspecting the bruise. “I should have killed him. I should have done it.”

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, “don’t say that. You wouldn’t be here with me if you did.”

“he.. touched you.” He says through gritted teeth, “I mean what if I hadn’t come to check on you? What if I hadn’t shown up when I did?”

“but you did.” you say softly, hand on his cheek in an effort to calm him, “you saved me.”

“And I always will.”

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading x

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smallestapplin · 2 years ago

Note

How do you think botw!submas will react once they find out reader is the hero of legend that's been asleep for 100 years?

I love me this au. You’re getting called hero a LOT.

You never wanted them to find this out in fear they’d treat you differently, you didn’t want them looking at you like you were some sort of savior.

You just wanted to be treated like a person, and how an unkillable hero, and not someone to run errands for them.

You just wanted friends that weren’t tied to some past you didn’t know, or have some high expectation of you.

You just wanted to be you.

Whoever that is.

They wanted to tag along with you, and they had been for a while. The twins make great travel companions, always prepared and just amazing company.

You don’t see like you’re going crazy, you have them to focus on during down times and not stew in your suppressed emotions, and spiraling thoughts.

You kept trying to keep them from Kakariko Village, coming up with as many things as possible to keep them away, but they were determined and excited to see the very people they have those locomotive plans from.

You silently prayed to Hylia that no one would say anything.

But you knew it was unlikely, you had to see Impa anyways.

The two look around the small village in awe.

“It’s so simple, yet so beautiful! Just what you’d expect!”

“Mhm! They seem to have everything they need here.”

As you three walked towards Impa’s house a few Sheikah greet you along the way.

“Everyone sure is friendly here.” Emmet comments, looking around a bit more.

“Stay here.“

“What!? We couldn’t possibly! Wouldn’t that be rude?”

You look to Ingo and the pouty face of his twin.

“No.“

“I suppose you’re right, we are outsiders to them still, maybe we can look around the shops.”

“Hill top shrine would better.“

Before they could argue one of the guards spoke up.

“It’s okay to for you to bring your companions, hero! Lady Impa would be more than happy to see you.”

You internally wince at his words before nodding, gesturing the twins to follow you.

Emmet bounds right after you with Ingo not too far behind.

“Sooo hero? What did you do to earn that around here?”

You ignore Emmet, refusing to answer his question before stopping at the top, where you’re greeted by Paya.

“Grandma w..will be happy to see you, hero!”

She’s quick to move out of your way and going back to cleaning.

The twins share a look, having a silent conversation as you open the doors.

“Ah! There you are, welcome back hero. Oh? I see you’ve brought some friends with you, that’s good to see.” The old woman smiles at you three.

“It’s an honor to meet you ma’am! I’m Ingo, and this is my brother Emmet.”

“I am Emmet!”

Impa chuckles.

“Glad to see the hero is making new friends.”

With pleasantries made Impa turns her attention to you.

“Have you been to the places the princess took those pictures of?”

“Been to a few.“

“Ah that’s good, the sheikah slate should come in handy for that. Have you visited Purah to upgrade the slate?”

“I have.“

“Excellent! You should regain all you’ve lost in no time at this rate, all you need is to find your sword that seals away the darkness. That is all.”

You turned on your heel a left, hearing the two men trip to go after you.

“Slow down!” They shout in unison.

But you don’t, you head right back out of the village as fast as you could. You don’t need them asking questions about this, you didn’t want them to know!

You manage to get just at the start of the entrance to kakariko before they stopped you.

Emmet’s face was one of pure excitement.

“You’re the hero!? You’re the hero of legend!? Why didn’t you tell us? That’s so cool! You must have so many thrilling and fun stories about your adventures and the champions!”

You stood there in silence as Emmet rambles.

Ingo however didn’t share his brother’s enthusiasm.

“You’re the hero? What the hell happened then? Where have you been for the last one hundred years?”

The two continue asking questions before falling as silent as you.

“Y/n?”

They grow concerned by the hardened look on your face.

“I don’t know, I don’t know who the champions were, I don’t know why what happened, all I know is I woke up in a chamber of some kind and was tasked with helping hyrule.”

Before Emmet could ask any further, Ingo tests a hand on his shoulder.

The two share a look, one you hate as it’s their silent conversation.

Emmet’s face grows saddened.

“You lost everything, and you don’t even remember what it is that you lost.” Emmet recalled you saying you don’t remember a lot.

But now it’s hitting hard, you don’t remember your friends, your life, or anything before waking up.

“All that stress you must’ve been under, you don’t even remember it, do you?” Ingo’s eyes gaze at you with such heartbreak.

“I have my name, and a task to do, that is all.”

You keep it short but they don’t let it up.

Emmet is the first to move, wrapping you in a tight, comforting hug. His head rests on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry for all of this.”

Ingo joins the hug.

“You deserve a break, we are sorry for all you have been put through.”

They are sorry? For what? None of this was their fault.

So why do you feel like this?

“Shh Shh it’s okay, we are here for you, and will be every step of the way.” Ingo’s voice is so soothing.

You’re confused by one of their respective hands moving up to your face, and wiping something away from your cheeks.

You’re crying? Hero’s don’t cry, you needed to stay strong and carry a front at all times.

So why are you crying? Why are you sobbing?

You grip the backs of their shirts, burying your face in Emmet’s shirt and start wailing.

You’ve never been told such things, you’ve never been held so warmly, with such tenderness.

You’ve never been allowed to express anything.

You are the princess’s personal guard and champion, that’s all you are and all you think you have been.

Never your own thing.

You can’t stop crying on them, it’s like the floodgates have been opened.

But they aren’t mad.

They softly him and whisper comforting words to you as they hold you, gently rubbing your back to help sooth you.

“It’s okay.” Emmet rubs his cheek against your soaked one.

“You’ve done so well, it’s okay to rest, we are here for you.” Ingo rubs circles on your back.

“Hero of legend or not, you’re still our friend, and nothing will change that.” Emmet smiles, cooing at your watery chuckle.

“You maybe the hero, but you’re our friend too! We are still going to worry over you, your status changes nothing.”

You look between them, blinking the tears away to see them more clearly.

They still want to be around you.

They still like you.

Saying they don’t see you any differently.

That they are still your friends.

An unfamiliar warmth fills your chest.

Your heart pounding out of your chest, from what you are unsure of.

Your wipe your tears away and nod.

“I’m tired.”

The two men laugh.

“Let’s go set up camp then!”

“I would like a nap.”

Emmet wheezes.

“Crying took that much out of you?”

“Must’ve been a nice cry, but I understand it’s tiring, let’s go.” Ingo grabs your hand and you three begin walking.

Emmet right beside you, smiling so wide and genuine.

Maybe….no, this is fine, you won’t ask for more than this.

#long post #pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #pokémon #pokemon ingo #pokemon fanfic #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet #pokemon emmet x reader #pokemon submas x reader #pokemon submas #botw crossover #botw au #botw crossover au

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loserchildhotpants · 3 years ago

Text

Destiel prompt from Twitter; kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, even though, it’s a lie, and the kiss proves it (from this prompt list)

“I’m just saying that I don’t think you’d get this defensive if there really wasn’t anything between you two -”

“There isn’t, and I’m not getting defensive!” Dean argues, decidedly defensively.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Sam offers with a shrug and a smirk.

Staring down into the open grave the boys are in, Castiel glances between the brothers and tilts his head, wondering if perhaps by a different angle, he may better understand what their expressions mean.

“We’re bonded or whatever - that’s it, man! There’s nothing else going on!”

“I’m not even saying there is anything ‘going on,’ I’m just saying there could be, and if that were something you wanted -”

“I’m not qu -”

“I know, I get it, I hear you, humor me for a second, okay? All I’m saying is just - if there were something between you two, and you wanted there to be something ‘going on,’ where there is currently nothing ‘going on,’ I just think you should, hypothetically go for something rather than settling for the nothing, because, personally, I think there is something there, and you could have a great thing going if that were what you wanted.”

“Even if - which I don’t - I’m not - listen, though, okay? I’m not, and I don’t want that - not that there’s anything wrong with it, or something, just - even if that were the case, Cas isn’t like that. He’s not a being that experiences shit like that -”

“I’m telling you you’re wrong, Dean! The way he stares at you -”

“He stares at everyone!”

“Do I?”

The Winchesters jump in unison, both with hands on their guns faster than should be possible. They both visibly relax again, though, when they realize it’s only Castiel interrupting.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean greets, his voice markedly more gentle than it was with Sam only a moment before.

Castiel appreciates it.

“Hello, Dean.”

With a cheeky grin, Sam clears his throat, and says to Cas, “your timing couldn’t be better, actually, Cas - Dean and I have some questions -”

“No, no, we do not have questions,” Dean growls at Sam, eyes blazing dangerously.

“I am always available to you boys for whatever inquiries I can assist in. Is this pertaining to my staring? It’s academic in nature, I assure you - frankly, I am used to having a form that hosts many more eyes; being in this Earthly form can present obstacles, as my perceptions are more limited than I can remember them ever being. I promise I do not mean to insult anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of it as an insult,” Sam intones; Dean shoves his elbow into Sam’s kidney to shut him up.

“This is you being defensive, by the way,” Sam wheezes, doubled over, but still smirking at Dean, “What’s the big deal if there’s nothing going on?”

Flushed, Dean scowls at Sam, drops his shovel, and tells him, “I’m not being defensive! There’s nothing to be defensive about! And I’ll prove it!”

Clambering out of the grave, Dean brushes the soil from his hands onto his dirtier jeans, and stomps more than walks up to Castiel.

“You’ve a cut,” Cas murmurs worriedly, spotting a knick Dean got on his cheek earlier in the day.

“It’s nothing. Listen, Cas -”

Before Dean can get anymore out, Castiel reaches for his left-side cheek, cups that side of his face, and spreads a cooling sensation that knits the skin back together neatly and cleanly.

“Uh - thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters gruffly as Cas takes his hand back.

“My pleasure, Dean.”

Uncharacteristically nervous, Dean glances down at the ground, his hands shoved in his jean pockets, then his eyes skim the ground until they happen upon Sam’s again, and whatever silent exchange they have works Dean up again.

“Cas,” Dean begins, looking into his eyes with determination, “We’re friends, you ‘n me, right?”

“Yes, Dean. You are my most cherished friend,” Castiel answers.

That gives Dean a moment’s pause where he seems to be searching Castiel’s face for some sign of sarcasm or deceit; there is none to be detected, of course.

“I - thanks, man. Uhm. Now - this is gonna sound like a weird question, but bear with me, ‘cause I’m not about to assume consent or something.”

“Okay,” Castiel says in confusion, tilting his head again.

“I’m tryin’a prove a point here to Sam, and to get it across - just - would you be okay with me kissing you? Like, just this once - I promise I won’t make it weird or anything, but I gotta ask, you know? I know you’re not into physical stuff like -”

“You’d like my permission to kiss?” Castiel intercepts neutrally, “Like people do?”

Something about that is funny - or startling? - to both Sam and Dean, and Castiel can’t tell which or for what reasons.

“Yeah. Just this one time,” Dean repeats.

Though he takes a respectable count of four seconds to seem as though he needs to consider his options, Castiel nods, and replies, “of course, Dean. Of all the favors you’ve asked of me before, I assure this is certainly the most convenient and pleasant of them.”

Sam snorts a laugh, Dean tosses a glare at him, and then settles gentle, if a little nervous, eyes back on Castiel.

“Okay…”

Dean steps closer into Cas’ space, bringing them toe-to-toe and he finds himself staring down; he’d not realized Cas was shorter than him. It’s not by much, not really enough to be remarked upon, even, but it means that Cas winds up looking up at him from under the cover of long, dark lashes, and even in the dark of the night, his eyes shine like twinkling gems.

Swallowing with some difficulty, Dean holds loosely onto the lapels of Cas’ trench coat, and he means to go in chaste, he really does, it’s just that he’s actually struggling to breathe a little, so his lips are just barely parted, and Cas - as far as Dean can tell, Cas takes that as a cue.

Because Cas’ full lips press in, but so does his tongue; before Dean can even secure his footing, Cas makes his loose hold on the lapels go tight, licking up into Dean’s mouth without hesitation or mercy.

Praying his shocked gasp wasn’t audible to Sam, Dean just tries to hold on while Cas turns his head, bites Dean’s heavy bottom lip, and then pushes Dean’s mouth more open with his own, and then he drags his hot tongue against Dean’s, coming in broad, and soft.

Dean hears himself make some kind of noise - he can’t tell what it is, because there’s too much blood rushing in his skull - there’s stubble. Stubble. There is stubble in this equation other than his own, and that’s new, and terrifying, and should be wholly unwelcome, but every synapse in his brain dedicated to pleasure is telling him otherwise.

One wide hand insinuates itself under the hem of Dean’s weathered flannel, calloused fingers pressing into his left hip possessively while the other hand glides over his pec, and shoulder to the back of his neck, pinky finger teasing the sensitive skin just under the back of his cotton collar, and thumb brushing the fine hairs at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean thinks he may be swaying - he’s dizzy.

Cas is dragging him closer, pressing their hips and abdomens together, and Dean’s hands have somehow found better purchase on the front of Cas’ button-down dress shirt than his lapels.

Dean thinks he hears one of the buttons pop off with the strain of his hold, but neither of them seem inclined to do anything about it, so he figures it doesn’t matter; he tries to establish himself as a bit more dominant, thrown off his usual groove by the absolutely sinful way Cas apparently kisses.

To Dean’s simultaneous horror and delight, Cas doesn’t relinquish any control; he won’t be moved, his hands get tighter and hotter where they touch Dean’s skin, he only presses them harder together, and he kisses Dean like he wants to eat him alive.

He kisses Dean like he wants to crawl inside him, like he’s hungry - starved - like kissing is an act of carnage just as much as an act of love, like those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

He’d rather die than admit it to anyone, but Dean’s knees get a little weak, and Cas basically holds up his entire weight by just the grip he’s got on Dean’s waist.

Before he knows it’s happened, Dean’s hard enough to carve stone, and Cas readjusts how they’re slotted against one another to better accommodate Dean’s failing balance, and Cas feels it - he must. Even if he doesn’t feel how hard Dean is against him right away, the guttural moan Dean will deny having made til his dying breath clues him in.

What sounds like hundreds of cherry bombs going off has them stumbling away from each other, and frantically looking about.

The streetlights have exploded. There’s glass everywhere, and based on the echoes of car alarms and distant voices, it’s becoming more and more possible that Cas destroyed the windows and lights of several cars and nearby homes.

Even he and Sam’s flashlights are busted.

In the blanket of darkness that’s settled over the graveyard, Dean can still see clearly, because Cas’ eyes are high beams cutting through the fog of the night.

They’re both panting, Dean’s pretty certain that a resting heart rate isn’t meant to feel like this, and Cas is looking positively feral.

“Jesus fuck!” Sam curses, his arms crossed over his head where he still plucks a shard of glass from his hair.

Reminded of Sam’s presence, Castiel’s head swivels to him, the glow of his eyes dims down, and then he looks back at Dean, visibly frightened.

Dean takes no pleasure in Cas ever being scared, so he reaches out, takes a step back into Cas’ space, but that spooks him more, and in less than a blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Not cool, Cas, Dean thinks loudly, hoping it counts as a prayer that Cas will hear.

Reaching into the front of his jeans, Dean uses the near blackness of the power outage to his advantage, and readjusts himself to the best of his abilities.

It really doesn’t do much.

“Well,” Sam starts pointedly.

Dean, weak at the knees, lips criminally swollen, face flushed, hair mussed and harder than he’s ever been in his life, turns slowly to scowl at Sam.

“That was not nothing.”

Dean doesn’t see a way of winning the argument, so he kicks dirt into Sam’s hair, and leaves him to finish burying.

#destiel #deancas #drabble #kisses #my stuff #some spice tho #just for funsies

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deexchanel · 3 years ago

Text

TFATWS

Word Count: 2,923

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x BlackFem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, arguing.

Summary: Y/N rides along with Sam, Zemo and Bucky to Madripoor.

A/N: I know this episode is over used but I write this and I just wanted to give you guys something after been absent for so long. My birthday is next week and I’m excited. Enjoy this one-shot.

They followed Zemo to his personal jet. An older man stood at the end of the stairs waiting on their arrival.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asked looking at the jet. Y/N walked between him and Bucky behind Zemo. She hasn't really been talking to Bucky because of their argument.

It was basically about how he disappeared on her. He left without warning. The only reason the previous couple is around each other now because Y/N was there when Sam gave up the shield and decided to stay by his side through the journey. That’s how she ended up here on a plane with someone that broke her heart.

The reason why Bucky left because he’s scared to love. He’s scared that’s she was going to leave him because of his past since it was too much for her. So Bucky left and still hasn’t told her the reason why he did.

"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country." Zemo replied then spoke to the older gentleman in Russian. After the men greet each other the trio followed Zemo into the jet.

Bucky placed a hand on Y/N’s lower back to help her up the stairs, but she pushed his hand off. She had every right to be mad at him. Y/N really loves Bucky but he can't just leave her whenever he gets the chance.

Y/N sat in the chair in front of Zemo with Sam beside him and Bucky beside her. She nervously looked out the window, Y/N isn’t a big fan of heights.

"The fridge is out. But I will see if there is some good food in the galley." The man said to Zemo who replied in Sokovian. My nerves were getting really bad, She starts to fumble with her fingers.

"Y/N you okay?" Sam’s voice laced with concern. She turns to see them staring at her like a worried parent. Y/N gave them a small smile trying to ease their worries.

"I'm fine."

"Just checking Y/N. Why don't you tell us about where we are going Zemo?" Sam asked looking at Zemo for answers.

Zemo opened a book, "I'm sorry, I was just fascinated by this. I don't know what to call it but this part seems to be important." He pulled a little book that was inside the bigger book holding it up.

"Who is Nakajima?"

Bucky swiftly gets up wrapping his gloved hand around his neck. Y/N’s eyes widened from seeing how worked up he got up from that. All the nervousness about flying left her body.

"What the hell James??"

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you." Bucky seethed then unwrapped his hand from around Zemo's neck sitting back down. Y/N rolled her eyes at how dramatic he was. Deep down she wished it was her he was putting into place but no one needs to know that. (Our little secret.)

"I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier." Zemo said obviously not phased by what just happened.

"Don't push it," Bucky warned glancing at him then towards Sam.

"I've seen that book. It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?" Sam amused but Bucky kept a straight face.

"I like '40s music, so..."

" '40s music? You definitely need to put me on some good music then." Y/N said engaging in their conversation. She thought it was kinda cute that he held on to the book Steve had. Bucky gave her a small smile.

"Whenever I get the chance, I will. Just for you."

Y/N bit her lip to keep from smiling to keep up the ‘I’m mad at him' act. But it wasn’t working.

"You didn't like it?" Sam asked shocked.

"I liked it." Bucky said giving him the face of 'duh I liked it.'

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive. It captures the African-American experience." Zemo said in the most formal way possible. Y/N gave a humorous smile nodding her head.

"That was one of the best ways to explain it."

"He's out of line, but he's right. It's great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye" Sam agreed as if Bucky didn't agree. Y/N laughed at what he was doing.

"Sam, why are you still going on about it? James literally agreed."

"I like Marvin Gaye." Bucky continues looking at him.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye," Sam said bringing up another memory of Steve.

"I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me." Y/N held up the finger going to the mini bathroom. She struggled so damn hard in that small ass bathroom trying not to fall on her ass. Y/N soon came out to hear them talking about Madripoor.

"What's up with Madripoor? You talk about it like it's Skull Island." Sam questioned looking between the two who used to be villains.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a private sanctuary back in the 1800s." Bucky starts while Zemo finished telling them the information.

"It's kept its lawless ways. But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone."

Y/N glanced at Bucky who tensed up at those words. I knew it was going to be hard on him. Sitting back down in her seat, She moved the hair that was in her face.

"So who do I go as?"

"Miss Sapphire, one of the richest lady there. She models for every company you can think of." Zemo said showing Y/N a picture of a woman who looked exactly like her.

"Ooo I think I'm going to like this," Y/N smirked looking at the outfit that she was going to have to put on. She knew Bucky wasn't going to like it but oh well, its part of the job.

��—————

Y/N was beside Sam as they walked down this empty bridge. She kept sneaking glances at Bucky because he looked so good with his new arm. Y/N didn’t know she staring too long when his eyes linked with hers. She quickly looked away, face turning really hot.

"We have to fix this. I'm the only one who looks like a pimp." Sam complained touching his suit. Y/N rolled her eyes, her feet were starting to hurt from walking for so long.

"Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp," Zemo said. Y/N’s walk began to turn into limping which made her fall behind a little.

A little "Ow." came from her mouth, grabbing Bucky's attention. He slowed down walking beside Y/N.

"You okay?"

"I'm good."

"No, you're not. You just said 'Ow'. What's wrong?"

"None of your business James. I'm okay."

"So you’re calling me James now? And I know your feet are hurting Y/N. Let me help."

Y/N decided to be stubborn even though she wanted to get off her feet so badly. "It's always been, James. I'm able to handle myself, I can take the pain."

Bucky rolled his eyes, in a matter of seconds, Y/N was in his arms bridal style. Not in the mood to argue, Y/N looked everywhere but him.

"And it's Bucky to you. It's always and forever going to be that to you."

"Before you left, it was Bucky. Now it's James. You know what, I can walk myself." She moved but his grip tightened not wanting her to get out of his arms.

"No, I'm going to continue to carry you," Bucky said but Y/N didn't respond which made it quiet between them. She fought the urge to look at him since she was mad.

"I saw you looking at me and my arm."

She looked up at him fulfilling her urge and they made eye contact. Y/N quickly looked away nervously "Um, no I wasn't."

Bucky let out a laugh, "You indeed was."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Was not."

"Was too."

"Guys! for the love of God, shut up!"Sam scolded from in front of them.

"He started it!" Y/N replied back like a little kid. Bucky laughed a little then sigh.

"Y/N, you've barely said a word to me today. Did I do something?"

She scoffs getting irritated from that dumb-ass question. "DiD I dO sOmEtHiNg?? Huh? Bucky stop talking to me before I say something I might regret."

"What? Y/N I just asked a question." Bucky said in defense. She huff rolling her eyes, 'a dumb ass question at that'

"No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There's no margin for error." Zemo explained as the car came into view on the bridge. Bucky placed her down on her feet when they neared it, opening the door for Y/N who climbed in the middle seat.

——————

"Here we are."

Walking into the bar they could feel the intense stares. Bucky glared at anyone that looked in her direction. Y/N had to fight off any instinct to grab his hand. It wasn’t the appropriate time to do it.

You could hear the whispers of the crowd looking at them. "Is that the Winter Soldier?". Zemo guided them directly to the bar. A tall dark skin man walked over to the trio so they could order.

"Hello, lady and gentlemen. Wasn't expecting to see you, Sapphire and Smiling Tiger."

"His plans changed." Zemo nodded towards Sam. "We have business to do with Selby."

The bartender looked at Sam,"The usual? Anything for you Ms. Sapphire?"

Sam nodded his head while Y/N replied, "No, Thank you." The bartender turned around grabbing a dead snake out of a glass jar. She covered up her mouth to keep from gagging. Y/N turn to Bucky shaking her head no.

"Ah, Smiling Tiger, your favorite." I heard Zemo say from behind Y/N. She would’ve laughed but Y/N wanted to puke at the moment. She knew Sam had drunk it when Bucky looked the other way to keep from I guess laughing.

Y/N moved to the side of Bucky when a man walked up to Zemo from behind. "I got word from on high. You ain't welcome here."

"I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come and talk to me." Zemo then pointed towards Bucky.

"New haircut?" The man asked but Bucky just stared.

"Or bring Selby for a chat." Zemo continued his deal. The man walked away not even giving an answer.

"A Power Broker? Really?" Bucky finally spoke up.

"Every kingdom needs its king. Let's just pray we stay under his radar." Zemo explained.

"Do you know him?" Sam whispered not wanting to give himself away.

"Only by reputation," Zemo replied. "In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner."

Y/N leaned against the bar with my back facing the crowd. She felt a hand being placed on her lower back. The other hand moved Y/N’s hair from the side to show her neck.

"Sapphire, baby, we didn't get to finish from last night. Let's get out of here."

Y/N prepared to punch him but stopped herself when she heard Zemo say "Зимний Солдат, Атака" ( Winter Soldier, Attack.)

Y/N turn around to see it was a different man this time. He had a smirk on his face, as his index finger touched her bottom lip slowly then used the rest of his fingers running down her exposed chest.

Y/N had never felt so disgusted in her life. His fingers stopped on her boob when Bucky's metal hand swiftly grabbed it, crushing his hand.

You could tell that Bucky was so angry for him even getting close to Y/N. The man grunts out in pain as both of them walked away from her while Bucky still clutched on his hand.

The pair shared a quick look. The way he eased back into his Winter Soldier character bothered her a bit. Maybe he had it like a switch?

Y/N winced not really wanting to see none of the combat taking place so she turned around with her back facing the crowd.

She didn’t want him to feel he can protect her all the time. Y/N didn’t want to seem so dependent on him especially if he isn’t going to always be in the picture. When Y/N needed him, he wasn't there. Getting out of her thoughts when Bucky slammed the man that touched Y/N on top of the bar holding on to his neck, eyes never leaving his face.

Everyone around them starts to take their gun off safety. Y/N’s heart starts to pound as she looked around. Zemo placed a hand on Bucky's arms whispering.

"Stay in character or the whole bar turn on us."

Zemo says something else in Russian which makes Bucky let go of the man. "Selby will see you now." The bartender announced.

"Thank you," Zemo said then walked off.

"You good?" Sam asked Bucky concerned. He looked at me but Y/N quickly glanced at them then followed behind Zemo not uttering a word.

—————————-

Turns out Y/N wasn’t the one she wants to talk to since she was just some famous model. She had to stand in the hallway and wait on them. Y/N was so uncomfortable, especially with what she had on.

Y/N heard a gunshot which makes her kick in the door. Both Bucky and Sam aimed the gun at her then lowered it.

"What the hell happened in here?!" Y/N asked seeing the bodies on the floor.

"We'll explain later, let's go," Bucky said grabbing her hand and they all walked out of the building. They walked through the streets hearing surrounding people phones going off

"This is not good," Zemo said looking around at the people who looked on their phones. They near the end of the street when bullets aimed at us. Bucky pulled Y/N to him as they ran in one direction.

"I can't run in these heels!" Sam yelled while he ran.

"You better learn today!" Y/N yelled back holding on to Bucky's hand since it was in the heat of the moment, not wanting to let go.

——————

Sharon help killed off the bounty hunters they had on us. At the moment Y/N was in the bathroom getting ready for the party she was having. Finished with getting dressed, she walked out of the bathroom running into a hard chest.

"Oops sorry!"

"It's an okay doll."

Y/N gave him a small smile then began to walk to the room where everyone else was until Bucky grabbed her hand.

"Why didn’t answer my question from earlier? What did I do?"

"You know what you did Bucky. Is there I need to say?"

"I think I know what I did? I don’t know Y/N. Just talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

"To answer your dumb-ass question, you did do something wrong. You act like everything's okay between us when it's not! Bucky, you left me. Like disappeared on me without explaining why!"

"I knew telling you that I was leaving would crush you. I didn't want you to be hurt over the fact that I left." Bucky rubbed his hand over his mouth.

"Leaving you was the best way to protect you. I'm feared by many but that still doesn't mean you aren't going to be a target to hurt me."

"Best way to protect me?! You leaving hurt me way more than what you think it did. You're worried about protection but not focusing on my feels. You said you love me but you left like it wasn't nothing." I groan flustrated raising my voice. He couldn’t look at Y/N and it raised her suspicion.

“You’re lying Bucky? What is it? What is the truth.”

“Y/N... Please.”

“Bucky tell me!”

"I was scared Y/N! Scared that you were already planning to leave because of my past. I know I shouldn’t have left when you needed me but I didn’t know what to do. You deserve better than me Y/N.” Bucky confessed as his head dropped. I placed my hand under his chin so he could look me in the eyes.

“Bucky I could’ve told me. You leaving hurt me more than what you think it did. I love you and that means that I’ll understand anything you’re going through. I don’t deserve better, and I don’t want better. I want you Bucky. You’re not alone in this baby I swear.”

Bucky pulled Y/N to his chest, as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m so sorry baby. I love you too Y/N so much.” He kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“Oh and I wanted to kill him so badly but I knew you weren't going to like that so I stopped."

"You know me so well."

Bucky apologized again, “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t wait to make up.” He began to kiss on her neck making Y/N tilt her head to the side so he could have more access.

"Hm, I'll accept it if you dance on the dance floor with me."

"No! God no. I'll do anything but that. You know I don't like dancing." Bucky pulled back groaning but she gave him the puppy eyes.

"Please? Or I'm going to stay mad at you."

Bucky rubbed his hand over his face, "Fine."

Y/N smiled jumping in his arms and they rested under her butt to keep her held up.

"Yayyy!! This is going to be fun."

"I’m only doing this for you baby.”

“That’s the best part.”

———————-

This took a long ass time to edit but I hope you guys like it. Like I said earlier I know this episode is overused but I had written this when tfatws was still airing so yeah.

I’m posting something since I haven’t posted in so long.

If this one-shot doesn’t make sense let me know cause it’s almost 3 am while I’m trying to edit and add stuff to this and I’m so sleepy 😂

Thank you for reading!

Stay slutty my friendsss 💕

#marvel #bucky barnes fluff #captain america #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky x poc!reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you

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thepaperpanda · 4 years ago

Text

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part II

♥Part I♥

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

Warnings: explicit content - smut

Words: 8846

Authors: Cass & Rouge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talks were long and boring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could hear noises outside the building.

Bishop's eyes widened as he looked past you.

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

You glared over your shoulder with bored and annoyed look

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Katia, my lord," she replied.

"How many springs have you lived?"

"17, my lord."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled watching her run off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ivar. I am glad that it worked but I really don't know what else to tell you," Hvitserk said with a shrug. "Tell me about her."

"Like, listen to this, brother," Ivar was excited at the single thought about things he performed with you. "The things you advised me in your drunken state worked, what I mean is that after eating her out she was more eager for other things. Let's not pretend, you're not only older but many women came and went through your bed, so I hate to admit it, but you're more experienced than I am."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded, rubbing his chin with pride. "Well, of course I am. Just... I can tell she likes it rough. So just go with that, Ivar. Listen to her."

Ivar tilted his head like a puppy while listening to the owner. "How can you say such a thing when you haven't seen her?"

"Then why do you ask me what to do when I haven't seen her in action?," Hvitserk asked with a roll of his eyes. "Listen. Every woman is different, you just need to observe and follow your intent or heart if you are really in love... And have heart."

Ivar didn't comment on his brother's words, he only nodded and got up from his spot. He patted Hvitserk's cheek. "Thanks. You can be useful from time to time."

Asta watched Ivar left the hut and immediately went back inside to join Hvitserk.

Ivar took some time to enjoy himself in the cold air. He walked slowly back to the hut Harald had let him stay in. Door was open so he walked in.

You were already asleep, covered with furs.

Ivar took the sight in, smiling to himself, feeling like his heart was melting for the sweetness overload. He put the crutches on the floor quietly, he got undressed and crawled to the bed. As carefully as it was possible he got on and spooned you from behind.

The following week was filled with preparations for a great battle. Everything had to be just right.

The days were filled with planning and training with your people, making sure they all are ready for the upcoming battle.

Of course whenever you found time you liked to bother the Bishop who actually was free now and somehow agreed to fight on your sides of the conflict.

You screamed out Ivar's name as you both reached your climaxes. The remarkable feeling of his seed filling you because some kind of fixation for yours. You seeked it every night and he was happy and eager to satisfy your common needs.

Humming quietly you lay down on his chest and started to trace random patterns on his chest. "It's tomorrow. I can't wait to leave this place and set a camp... And get ready for the battle," You growled playfully.

Ivar's arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his fingertips rubbing little circles on your belly as he held you close. "Don't be scared, Y/N, the seer predicted we'll win the battle easily," Ivar assured you and kissed the top of your head. "There's no need to be worried, dear. It's just a formality."

You laughed and looked at him with a cocky smile. "Me? Scared? You're joking! I am more than ready to fight, our last battle in York was so much fun! I craved more since that day."

He looked down at you and pecked your lips briefly. "I would never say you're more bloodthirsty than I am."

You giggled against his lips before kissing that one sensitive spot on his neck. "Is that bad? Is some... Boring, dress wearing, royal lady would be better for you? You dont like me the way I am?”

He moaned at the touch of your lips on the most sensitive spot on his neck; his grasp on your waist tightened. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Let's get some sleep, love. We need to be rested for tomorrow." You kissed his cheek and then nuzzled to his chest, closing your eyes. Soon, you drifted into slumber.

Travel was exciting.

Everyone was ready for that great fight so were you.

To be honest you couldn't wait, fighting and then ruling by Ivar's was your dream ever since you two clicked just perfectly back in York.

In the camp as well as during negotiation with Lagherta and his brothers you stood there proudly, being by his side and supporting his action.

You fought for him just like you did in York, doing your best to tip the scales of victory on your side.

The battle was long and of course there was a lot of death and suffering.

Just like Ivar assured you that one night, you won. Kattegat was yours and you couldn't be more happy.

The Great Hall opened its door for the new king.

Ivar entered the familiar chambers for the first time since months. He felt like the very important part of his childhood was restored to normality.

People weren't truly keen on the change on the throne, but they could do nothing about it.

Ivar's royal warriors took care of those who didn't want to hail the king. Ivar took a place at the throne that once belonged to his father.

You laughed loudly walking in with Hvitserk and King Harald close behind you, all of you bathed in blood of your enemies.

"You did it Ivar, you won your home back. I need to say I am jealous now!” Harald joked.

You walked around, inspecting the inside of the Great Hall. You already loved the place.

"Of course he did. How could you doubt him."

Saying this you walked closer to your lover and sat on the throne right beside him.

Ivar offered you a smirk, yet tilted his head. "Y/N, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I am getting comfortable in my throne, love?," You answered, returning the smirk. "Just as we talked in York. We will be the most powerful couple in the world."

He rolled a little in his place, so he leaned his forearms against armrest. "We? A couple? We were never a couple, sweetheart. I just needed your troops."

You frowned deeply, looking into those beautiful blue eyes you so loved. "Excuse me... But. Your promises, the nights we spend together. Our plans for the future."

He laughed loudly, he didn't really pay attention to the fact there were people in the chamber. "Darling, I would never say you're so silly. You wanted to be fucked so I provided that to you. I just had to make sure you won't change your mind in the day before the battle. Now, get off the throne, it's not yours. You can go back to your sweet, lovely settlement. You're my vassal from now on, I expect you to pay 500 gold pieces every year. If you won't follow, I'll have to flatten your little place to the ground."

You got up from the throne, your eyes never leaving him. How could he do this to you? You shared so much from the past to the future. Did he really lie to you... Why it hurt more than the wounds you suffered during the battle. "Is this some kind of a cruel joke? Because if it is, then better stop, Ivar."

"Do I look like I am joking?," He asked, the smile vanishing from his face, leaving a cold grimace and raised eyebrow as he glanced at you. "Get out of my face."

You couldn't believe it. All the nights you shared, sweet words, the love and dreams... It all was his way of taming you. His way of making sure you will follow him until he achieves his goals. Your heart broke like a thin ice under a pressure. "You are a terrible man, Ivar the Boneless. Ragnar is ashamed of such a son. One that can't keep a promise and can't even avenge his mother fully. I will dance the day you die!” You didn't mean any of those words, it was the pain speaking through your lips. Just like he wanted, you turned around and left the Great Hall.

Hvitserk threw his brother had a cold glance and followed you. "Stop, Y/N! Earl, stop!"

Meantime Harald stormed to the freshly announced king. "What the hell are you doing, Ivar? She is a great warrior, she brought a lot of people, you can't simply send her away and push her off our common matter."

"Our? Mine. Nothing is ours, everything is mine now," Ivar chuckled darkly. "Go on, you can take her. She's nothing but a puppet."

You stopped and pulled out your sword, pointing it right at older Ragnarsson. Your face looked serious but the tears rising in your eyes were visible. "What do you want, Ragnarsson? Came to tell me how stupid I am for trusting your brother?” You growled loudly.

"I had no idea what he was planning for all that time," Hvitserk instinctively raised hand up in the air, showing you he was unarmed. "Don't leave, I bet it can't be discussed and explained."

"Discussed? Explained?! What can be, Hvitserk?! He used my love, my feelings for him to get the troops for his plans," You said, desperately trying to hold your tears. "I wanted to stay here for him but I won't be a rug he can use and throw away as soon as he is done."

"Stop it, you can't leave! You're the only person who still keeps him on the straight and narrow!"

"HOW I DO THAT?!," You yelled as loud as your lungs let you, slowly lowering your sword as your body became too weak suddenly. All the emotions you felt and the post battle injury mixed together now.

"He threw me away as soon as my help became useless for him. I was never needed, coming to York was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Come," not being sure whether it was proper to do, Hvitserk wrapped arms around your figure, offering you his shoulder to lean on. "Take me with you then," Hvitserk asked openly. "I don't want to stay by his side, he's not a sane person. Please. I'll do whatever you order."

You nuzzled to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. All you needed now was some kind of closeness, of course you wished it was Ivar but he didn't care any longer. You started to cry into his shoulder, pawing at his back in an attempt to grab something in your hand.

"Now, move," he reminded you. "Let's not wait for him to change his mind and order his hellhounds to burn us alive."

Oldest Ragnarsson led you to the stable where your horse ate hay. He helped you hop on the animal. You sighed deeply, getting comfortable in the saddle. Rubbing your eyes you looked at him. "Thankfully my men are ready to go too," You said, grabbing the reins. "Let's leave him with his wonderful kingdom. Harald can deal with him."

"I don't think he is going to stay either," Hvitserk pulled his horse out of the box and got on his stallion's back.

"I have no idea who would want to stay with him now. Kattegat will burn under his lead," You muttered as your horse moved.

You quickly collected your remaining troops and then you all were on the way home. "Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk, whose horse galloped right behind yours, lined up with you. "Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Leaving your own youngest and well... Creppled brother? For a woman who broke your nose?," You asked, looking at him.

"No," he replied hardly, being sure of his words. "I was afraid of my dear life. It was the most reasonable decision I've made in my lifetime."

"Let's hope you will feel much better in my home," you told him with a soft smile.

The trip took three day but it was worth it.

Your settlement made you feel better just because you were back home but there was still this void, somewhere inside of you. It felt even worse when you how your warriors greeted their families. Their smiles made you wish you could feel something like this.

Of course, people were happy to see their Earl and you returned to happiness but it wasn't the same.

You led Hvitserk into the Great Hall and as soon as you entered a big wolf's fur was placed on your shoulders, the hood that was made out of the wolf's head was pulled on your head. You laughed and looked at Hvitserk.

Hvitserk didn't think he could be greeted so warmly anywhere. Your people offered him not only furs and good words but also a roof over his head.

You sat on your throne and smiled, looking at your people. Tears will have to wait until you close the door to your room, now it was time to be Earl. "My friends, my warriors, my people. I can't describe how happy I am that God blessed me and our warriors with the chance of returning home," You said loudly and got up. "We lost many but many returned. Tomorrow there will be a feast to welcome the one that returned and honor the one that did not. I also want to introduce my special guest."

Hvitserk, as much as he was against the idea, walked closer to you, offering you a nod.

"This is Hvitserk. Son of Ragnar. Welcome him and be treated as your own because as long as he wants to stay with us. He is a part of our pack," You informed and your people cheered.

Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Thank you, dear Earl. Thank you, dear people. I assure you that I'll protect this settlement until the very last blood drop."

You gave him a sad smile. "You will stay here. There is one more room in Great Hall that wasn't used for years. I will order my thralls to prepare it."

Hvitserk bowed his head. "This is too much, my lady. I'll be fine just by staying among your people. I will stay at the edge of the city."

"I don't ask you as a Earl. I ask you as a friend, I want you to stay here. You will have days to get along with my people," You explained.

Hvitserk didn't complain anymore. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

Evening finally came and this one felt weird.

Most nights you shared with Ivar and you missed him and his body.

Letting out a deep sigh you get out of the bath and continue with getting ready for the bed. You put on a soft nightdress and brushed your hair. It felt different.

Since you joined Ivar back at York you didn't really have a chance to clean yourself properly. Suddenly you decided to visit Hvitserk so you got up from your bed and went to his room.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a permission to enter. Maybe he already had some girl over.

"Come in."

Hvitserk was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and elbows propped on knees as he was meditating. He offered you a nod. "Earl Y/N. What have I done that you honor me with a visit? Do you need my help?"

You sat on the floor next to him and chuckled. "Don't start with all that Earl thing, Hvitserk. I am the same Y/N that broke your nose. No need to use my title."

"Don't need to remind me about the nose all the time," he offered you a little too cocky smirk.

"Just trying to remind you that I am no one special. Sorry" You sighed. "And well... I am here because. I felt lonely."

"Being lonely doesn't mean being sad, yet I hear sadness in your tone and see it in your manner."

You raised your eyebrow. "How being lonely doesn't mean being sad?," Shaking your head you shrugged.

"I just used to spend the night with your brother. It felt good, I felt happy... Loved," You already could feel tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry. You can't change him. He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care about people's feelings. You'll find yourself a man anytime soon, just look at you. Young, beautiful, in charge. All men are losing head for you already."

You sighed and wiped your eyes with a short laugh.

"You are losing head for me as well? Who would want a woman with a face like mine. I should cry for how stupid I was to trust Ivar's love."

"It was not stupidity, what you experienced is used to be called love," he smiled softly.

"Was... Was it too much to ask for? To be loved for once in my life?," You asked, looking at him. "Father, left me to die. Mother didn't care enough to protect you. Brother tried to kill me... Man I loved..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"You're young, you have your entire life lying ahead. You'll fall in love not once, not twice. The pain is temporary, it will pass as soon as you'll sign a truce with yourself."

"I am young with a face eaten by a wolf," you muttered. "I... I have a stupid question."

"No question is stupid if you think about it."

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?,” you asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone... Not today at least."

"Of course. You provided me with a room with a bed for two. But you can take it full."

"I don't want to take it all. I want to share it with you... I don't want to be alone tonight, Hvitserk."

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a little smile.

You smiled and then climbed to bed. Letting out a sigh you nuzzled to the pillow and wrapped fur around yourself.

Hvitserk spent a few more moments meditating. After that he went to wash his face and neck with cold water. The he slipped into bed with you

"Thank you for that. I need to look pathetic... I am the Earl and I act like a child," you said cringing at your own action.

"Don't judge yourself. I don't mind it. I offered you that I can be a shoulder you can lean in."

"Yes, you did," you nodded and moved closer to nuzzle him. "And I am going to use it tonight."

He straightened his arm to make a room for you. As you put your head to his chest, he lightly wrapped arm around your waist.

You got comfortable and hummed quietly, closing your eyes. He was arm and soft, you just wished it was Ivar who would really hug you.

Hvitserk used his other hand to stroke your cheek. "Shhhh, you're going to get through this for you're the strongest woman I saw."

#ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless smut #ivar x reader #ivar x reader smut #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #vikings #vikings x reader #vikings smut #reader insert #writers on tumblr #ivar x hvitserk #bishop heahmund #earl!reader

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marimopeace · 3 years ago

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there's a limit on how much you can be an isekai intellectual...

a bunch of analyses have been popping up before me all day so i wanted to throw my hat into the ring. all love to ppl who are exercising their creative minds + ppl like geoff here who just talk about these things because of fan interest but i feel like there reaches a point where exploring the "types" of isekai is pointless? i've seen ppl list out the different types of villainess revenge isekai or fantasy mmorpg isekai but eh why fit them all into separate boxes like that?

i think it's easier to think of isekai as a "type" (genre) of itself with only two categories: 1) a focus on isekai (lit. another world) 2) tensei (lit. to be reborn). this allows for a variety of applications and thus tropes that ppl see so many trends of!

with isekai - in another world

you see everything from:

pure fantasy (inuyasha, digimon wait maybe not the best example but in my childhood mind i count digimon as pure fantasy, fushigi yugi)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (.hack//legend of twilight, sao ugh, log horizon, overlord (LOVE OVERLORD!)

otome game-esque worlds >>> this is where it gets complicated with "villainess routes" since i admit there are multiple villainess tropes but this is why it's nice to not think of this as a "sub-type/genre" bc it frees you from those complications! (the saint's magic power is omnipotent, the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap soso cute!, the savior's book cafe in another world, i'm a villainous daughter so i'm going to keep the last boss wait i can't remember if she's reborn in this one lmaooo see this is why rules make everything hard)

with tensei storylines - being reincarnated/reborn in another world as *insert character/role*

you see...

the same tropes!!

pure fantasy (a returner's magic should be special, reminiscence adonis, the lady and the beast, light and shadow, i can't think of a manga off the top of my head for this ah)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (so i'm a spider so what i stan kumoko so hard, her majesty's swarm, can't name another off the top of my head ah i hate lists shorter than two things...)

self-insert based games/novels (fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess, who made me a princess, death is the only ending for the villainess, the villainess wants to marry a commoner, honestly games vs novels are different applications but i'm not in the headspace to try to remember a bunch of both lol)

*insert line break to give random ppl a break from scrolling but tl; dr just enjoy things for what they are no need to micro analyze*

similar variations occur in both genres (if ppl want to be super technical i guess i'm arguing that isekai itself is a massive genre that has the "another world" subgenre and "reincarnation" subgenre tl; dr) so i think it's honestly a huge pain to try to separate all these trends into so many different types of stories. for me personally it's easier to not get overwhelmed by this gigantic umbrella of "isekai" that spans light novels, manhwa, manga, and mobile games by just stripping each story down into its trademark tropes (aka character archetypes, story structures) and slapping "oh this is a person going to a world that's not ours" and "this person gets reborn as blank in another world". none of this "omg this power fantasy is such a this kind of isekai moment" or "there are 14 different types of villainess revenge stories and this series fits into this" bc AH labels! limitations! circle-jerks via ppl trying to compartmentalize everything and sound smart for leaving a comment on story analysis instead of ooh-ahhing over a character's face! dividing things into light novel manga vs manga vs korean manhwa ft. female characters!

the last bit is mainly why i feel frustrated by ppl's insistence to group everything?

the video linked at the beginning of the post (honestly good video essay, i enjoyed it, i just kept thinking in my head the whole time "marimo these are tropes do not take the genre talk literally") has a baby comment thread talking about "korean isekai manhwas" as a genre featuring nothing but reincarnated villainess' and i can't.

like i cannot acknowledge that as a genre of any sort. the energy i felt reading through some of those insights takes me back to 2012 when all yt americans discovered k-pop and deemed all korean music k-pop from then on! (ppl still do this now, yes you are seen and don't talk to me pls i don't like you. k-pop is korean pop music and nothing less and nothing more. take a few seconds and try to parse apart aspects of korean culture instead of slamming everything into a monolithic label that has the letter k and a hyphen.) it feels so odd to see a bunch of young ppl on ig and tiktok acknowledge korean media that happens to be in the form of a webtoon as "oh stories all about young girls becoming villains in stories they made/played" bc it feels so reductive u.u

(positionality disclaimer that i'm praying isn't actually necessary: i am a 3rd-generation korean of japanese descent do not fite me i am exhausted irl of ppl asking for validation/verification bc massive shove off.)

breaking news! korean manhwa...is just as multifaceted as japanese manga...bc how can comics as an art-form not have multiple genres...huh such a shocker?!?! same likely applies to media in other parts of the world like chinese manhwa and french comics--not my place to explain either of those i just know those industries exist bc of wakfu and donghua shows by Tencent.

at the end of the day it's not like analyzing any kind of isekai is wrong--absolutely not!! i think it can be super fun to think about how isekai elements complicate a story (MCs trying to go back home, ppl from the og world, reincarnation plot-twists) or maybe even bash a series for including some kind of other world element when they could have just written a super fun fantasy.

insert marimo's brief ramble that hey you can get sick of truck-kun's hitting disillusioned guys who happen to be super duper smart or girls who happen to be master chefs/craftsmen but transporting a fully-grown being into a fantasy setting is the ultimate cheat code for making mundane modern technology seem cool and overpowered, and being reincarnated as a fully grown person in a world with a pre-made story/game set-up completely bypasses the need for an author to slowly flesh out world-building in a natural progression so isekai is actually a really smart writing tool it's just that there are some series where the author didn't use it well at all and it's cheesy or clearly isekai was misused as a vehicle for character/story development and it was pointless *DEEP BREATH OUT*

in this essay i will argue...lol i am such a culture studies major!! if i were an english major i would be talking all about writing but here i am having a side-tangent about world-building via someone being reborn wow i love this for me (don't get me started on when an author has someone reincarnate as a baby and the story is mostly them having warm fluffy moments with their family--typically father figures--and getting lots of powers i could and would and probably will rant about east asian toxicity)

but anyway am i crazy????? like yes for being passionate about the technical use of a word like genre (i am a scorpio rising let me be fussy pls) but i don't think it's a lot to ask for ppl to not unironically see "villainess revenge isekai" as the definition of korean manhwa.

idk as someone who resonates with why japanese isekai is so popular domestically + why a lot of korean manhwa feat. the same tropes (it's not for great reasons lads it's actually depressing tbh) i'm just starting to feel kind of pained by the generalization and need to separate "cute japanese girl in an otome game"/"japanese boy finds a harem in another world" from "korean girl dies and comes back as a villainess" bc they are just! applications to the same story device!!

recommendations for any who makes it this far down below <3

// also gladly recommend any of the examples i've listed in the above rant as i've read/watched all of them and adore them v much! //

save me princess

super refreshing fantasy manhwa ft. a princess and her ex-boyfriend having to save the world!

the beginning after the end

an AMERICAN web novel turned into a comic (but see it being not korean/japanese doesn't really matter when you just consider isekai as a genre...isn't it nice to not overthink it?) ft. a super-powerful wizard king reincarnated into another world and starting from scratch--gives mushoku tensei vibes but huge twists!

the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion

love love LOVE this story--read the title and you'll learn how this girl reincarnated as the character raeliana in a book gets married to a duke!

trash of the count's family

such a good novel!! a guy gets reborn as a lazy oaf and he takes the hero of the story under his wing...plot twists come up later on!

this time i will definitely be happy!

v good and refreshing for a shorter series! she's been reborn 3 times and remembers every time the hero's stabbed her in the back, and now she just wants to break up with him!

silver diamond

older manga but v good adventure w intrigue! a boy who loves plants get sucked into a desert world with demonic lizards and a mysterious bodyguard by his side. shonen-ai not BL but wonderful vibes nonetheless + great side characters!

the princess imprints a traitor

adore everything in this from the world (not in that way this society makes me so angry) to the machinations at play and the dynamic between the fl and ml

#isekai #mother's basement #inuyasha #digimon #fushigi yugi #.hack//legend of the twilight #log horizon #overlord #the saint's magic power is omnipotent #the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap #a returner's magic should be special #adonis #the lady and the beast #light and shadow #kumo desu ga nani ka #her majesty's swarm #fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess #death is the only ending for a villainess #the villainess wants to marry a commoner #save me princess #the beginning after the end #the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #trash of the count's family #this time i will definitely be happy!#silver diamond #see i normally put the raw titles for everything but the tiny korean/japanese part of my brain is so tired bc my english brain went off #the princess imprints a traitor #manga #manhwa #donghua

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ladymercysletters · 4 years ago

Text

A Chime of Bells

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Part 5 of the If You’ll Have Me Series

Word Count : 3190

Warnings: 18+ Only - smut at the end obvs!

A/N: So this is the last official part of the series but I have so many spin off ideas and little moments I’d like to write about, as well as a prequal of how Y/N comes to be Duchess of Pembrokeshire ... also more Granville. Basically this series isn’t over and I will write more!!!

***

The warm summer breeze hit you as you stepped out of the church, the clear bright sky making the arches of blush roses stand out against the stark blue. You wobbled slightly as you stepped on the old cobbles of the church steps and you gripped tighter to the arm around yours, looking up to see Benedict smiling down at you. His gloved hand covered yours as you walked together to the awaiting carriage. The small ceremony had been held away from London, in the little church of the village nearest your new home. Benedict had never favoured London society and, London society, had never really favoured you. To that end Benedict had purchased a reasonably sized house on the Kent coast, only a short distance from Aubrey Hall but far enough that the ton would not easily come calling.

Benedict proffered a hand to help you into the carriage. “Mrs Bridgerton” he beckoned to you with a lopsided grin which you mirrored. Following after you, into the carriage, Benedict slid in beside you and rested his arm around your shoulder as the carriage began to move – the sound of church bells and his siblings cheering your departure ringing behind you. As the carriage trundled down the country lane, on its way to Aubrey Hall Benedict turned to you. “Are you happy to be Mrs Bridgerton?” he asked suddenly. You looked over, shocked.

Of Course, you were happy to be a Mrs Bridgerton, to be his wife. Surely, he knew how much you cared for him, how much you loved him. Your engagement hadn’t been particularly long but you both knew you knew each other long before you were seen together for the first time. “No. I’m ecstatic!” you smiled at his worried brow, cupping his cheek as you pulled him in to a kiss. He pulled back a little after returning the kiss. Only enough to see your glossy eyes staring back at him – his hand coming to cover yours that was placed on his cheek.

“But you were a Duchess.” He whispered just to you, leaning in closer to touch your foreheads together. “Now you’re just Mrs Bridgerton.” You laughed. His tone suggested that was a bad thing; and you knew, Benedict of all people cared as much for titles as he did for what ribbons his mother had chosen for Hyacinths bridesmaids dress.

“You should know by now that I do not care for titles. And being Mrs Bridgerton, is most definitely better than any title.” Your hand stroked his face, realisation blooming on it of how stupid he was being. Neither of you cared for a title and he knew that; but you were always expected to marry up in society and Benedict knew that by marrying him, you were marrying down. His arm wrapped behind you came to pull you in closer, so you were almost in his lap. His hand left yours and pulled your legs over his, so now you were. Your arms wrapped themselves over his broad shoulders and pulled him back to you, determined to show him just how happy you were.

Though the ceremony was small, which you had both wanted, Benedict had argued (unsuccessfully) for the size of the reception. It was a grand affair, held at Aubrey Hall, and true to his mother’s ‘suggestions’ the ballroom was crammed full of the crème de la crème of the ton. Although a lot of the ton were in attendance, thanks to Benedict’s last-minute interference with the guest list you made sure to only invite people you actually wanted there, including a lot of your artistic friend’s, making a surprisingly good impression on even some of the more reserved members of Society.

“Mrs Bridgerton.” A deep voice spoke from behind you. You turned to see Sir Henry Granville smiling at you over his glass. He bowed to you before joining you watch your guests.

“Sir Granville.” You smiled as you curtsied to him, “I do hope you are enjoying the evening?”

“Immensely darling.” He sighed “I do hope that now you are a married lady that will not mean that you, or your gorgeous new husband, will stay too long away from town.” Your eyes flit over to your gorgeous husband. Benedict stood by the wall of large arched windows, laughing with Colin at something Penelope Featherington had said. Oh the poor girl, her mother had dressed her again: a shimmering orange gown that matched her hair, with a delicate green lace to cut the two in half … she looked like a carrot. Your eyes drew back to Benedict; you could see from the other side of the room the laughter lines by his eyes, and the slight crookedness of his teeth that seemed to make him all the more cute. You only managed to sigh in response as you were lost in the scene before you, so content with your life for the first time in forever. Granville took your wispy sighs as confirmation he would not see either of you at his soirees for some months and stifled a giggle into his glass as he took a sip.

The party carried on until well into the evening, dancing and merriment stretched through several rooms of Aubrey Hall, and the gardens, where one lady of the ton was taught to juggle by several circus performers who had arrived earlier in the evening. By one in the morning you and Benedict were waving the last of your guests off from the front steps. Slumped against one another with silly grins on both of your faces, it was safe to say that the both of you were a little tired and a little tipsy. Violet Bridgerton had retired to bed just after midnight, shooing her youngest two back up the stairs with her from where they had been watching the party. Daphne and Simon had departed to their room shortly after as well, followed by Francesca who had to be carried to bed by Colin after falling asleep in a chair in the library. You and Benedict turned back to go inside. The footmen and maids had already started the clear up of the ballroom and gardens, picking up dropped napkins and sweeping away smashed glass. You bid Anthony and Kate goodnight, thanking them for hosting the evening; Colin followed after, cravat loose and waistcoat already unbuttoned. You didn’t even see Eloise go to bed, but you were told by Colin she had snuck away when one unfortunate young lord had made a most ungentlemanly remark and received a heeled slipper to the shin.

You and Benedict giggled at Colin’s retelling of the event, watching in contented silence as the last of the Bridgerton’s ascended the stairs. Well almost the last of the Bridgertons. You turned in Benedict’s arms to face him, smiling lazily at each other as his face came to rest in the curve of your neck. The light feeling that had been growing in your stomach bloomed in your chest as he began leaving soft, butterfly kisses along a column of soft skin there, just where you liked it. Your fingers clung onto his shoulders as your knees weakened. His hands roamed your back, the wide expanse of them and the heat they exuded seeped through your gown and sent goosebumps rippling over you.

By the time you were outside your room Benedict had you up against the wall, kissing you passionately as he searches blindly for the knob to open it. When he finally got you inside your honeymoon suite, he didn’t put you down, pressing you against the closed door as his hands slid up your thighs and under the layers and layers of chiffon and silk. Hastily ridding you of your silk stockings, the feel of his rough, artists, hands on your thighs made them quake around him, pulling a smirk from his mouth as he bit at your lower lip. Your hands found their way to his hair; the soft thick curls running through your fingertips felt divine and mad you cling to him further as he moved you over to the bed, pressing you back against the bed post so he could lower you to the floor.

His hands not leaving your body he pulled your long gown up your body as he stood to his full height. Pulling at the small bow at the back of your neck, he lifted the dress clean off of you – leaving you leaning against the dark oak bedpost, in your thin chemise. Benedict stared in awe at the practically see through garment: the pale fabric skimming down your body like warm milk. Your name echoed deeply from his chest as he eyed you hungrily; his eyes, usually so soft and tender, now looked dark and possessing. He stood for a moment, mind racing with the view before him. He had made love to you before, but now you were his wife. His. Wife. Forever. And the way you looked up at him through your lashes, not coy but knowing. You knew what you did to him, what you were doing to him. He could feel the length in his breeches growing with every movement of his eyes over your body. Breathing steadily through his nose to calm his heartbeat he tried to ignore the growing throbbing at the restraining fabric.

“You’re wearing too many clothes Mr Bridgerton” your silky words pulling him out of his daze as he looked to your face once more, stepping closer to encompass you.

“As my wife.” He paused “Mrs Bridgerton. I believe it is your responsibility to solve that.” He finished, his deep smooth voice mere inches from your ear. You slowly pushed his jacket from his shoulders, watching with a smouldering gaze as he assisted by pulling his cravat from his collar. Your eyes burnt into one another as neither broke eye contact, smiling, even as he toed off his boots. He made short work of his waistcoat, shucking it off as you began to unbutton his loose shirt, feeling his warm skin through the billowing linen. One he was free of it his hands wrapped back around your waist, not wasting a second in pulling you back into a steaming kiss, his tongue tracing your soft bottom lip, begging for entrance as his hands delicately try and pull the pins keeping your hair in place.

You spoke his name into the air like a prayer when you felt his heat seep into your bones, trailing your hands down his strong chest to pull his shirt free from his trousers, fingertips gently brushing over his stiff cock – trapped in confinement as you did so.

“Oh my love” he moaned as your hands brushed against his length. “Y/N, darling” he murmured, kisses departing from your lips to trail down your neck once more, his breeches falling no sooner than the buttons popped. As he bent down to kick them away, he grasped your legs again, circling them around his hips as he turned to kneel on the bed, walking you up onto it. His lips remained on yours, worshipping every piece of skin he could lay them on before lowering you back, softly so your head rested gently on the pillows beneath you.

As you landed on your back you smiled giddily up at him. The fleeting image of your last wedding night flashing before your eyes before you blinked and Benedict reappeared. Happiness flooded you as you thought of the comparison. Benedict’s soft kisses drew you out of your haze and you found yourself stroking his cheek as you had done in the carriage earlier. The soft murmur of his name drew his eyes back up to yours

“Yes, darling” the way his deep voice said those words, you don’t think you’d ever be used to that.

“I love you” you pushed at his chin to kiss him, savouring the way he felt above you, on top of you, how he tasted. You never want this moment to end and you couldn’t believe he was yours, Your Benedict. Smiling int your kiss, he pulled back when he felt wet on his cheek, realising you were crying into the kiss.

“Y/n, what is the matter?” he asked, worried.

“I’m just so happy my dear” you smiled as you cried some more; brushing a soft curl from his eyes that had flopped over into view. A comforting hand came to circle your waist once more, pulling you ever closer to his as his worship of your skin continued.

“Y/N. I love you so much.” His muffled words pressed into your neck in the form of kisses. “I will love you until the day I die and continue loving you long after.” He whispered “for as long as you’ll have me.” He smiled, tears in his eyes too.

“Make love to me?” you whisper into the space between you.

“Always” he smiled, kissing you once more on your lips, and continuing to press meaningful kisses down your clavicle and between your breasts, cupping them and inhaling your sweet scent as it surrounded him. As he descended lower on your body, his hands roamed and rumpled the soft silk of your delicate chemise, pushing it up your legs in a silent plea. You sat up to pull the chemise over your head, falling back again as Benedict’s soft lips graced your thighs, making you jump when he used his teeth to gently scrape at the soft flesh. You loved when he settled between your thighs, the way his tongue slide over your centre, the way it gently parted your lips and pressed you open against his face made you feel so alive. His eagerness to please you and draw any sound he could from between your lips made you shake with lust. As he sucked at you bud his eyes looked up at you through long dark lashes – the piercing blue of his eyes just visible above your thatch of hair. Your hand came down to card through his hair, pulling at it, not knowing whether you wanted him to stop and fuck you properly, or have him keep going forever.

“Every time I taste you, you get more and more exquisite” he growled, crawling back over you to steal a kiss from your bitten red lips, making you taste yourself from his glossy tongue.

“Benedict, get this off” you pleaded into his mouth, pulling as his open shirt. Complying with your wishes he tugged it over his head, revealing himself in all his glory. You’d never get tired of that sight.

“Now” he growled possessively “Where was I?”

“Taking your wife for the very first time?” you laugh softly at the insinuation. He lowered himself to cover you once more, his hand pulling your leg up over his thigh.

“Ah yes” he crooned smoothly “The very first time” his words punctuated by is head pushing into you. Since your re-entrance into society, many eyes had been beadily spying on you wherever you went, making rendezvous’ with Benedict all the more difficult - and when news of your announcement spread, any meeting outside of customary events had completely ceased. The stretch of his girth as he moved deeper into you sent a chill up your spine. You had missed the way he made love to you, the way he felt inside of you, and the way you could make him feel. Ever since that fortnight at Pembroke House, you had made it your life’s mission to give Benedict every ounce of pleasure you could.

As his thrust’s became rhythmic your moans began to echo into the darkened room. You began to roll your hips up to meet his, revelling the fullness and ecstatic ache of his cock inside you. His slow steady thrusts were scratching an itch but not fulfilling your need for him. You needed it faster; harder; you wanted to feel him in the morning and remember it whenever you found yourself in boring company. Benedict was getting lost in his rhythm, you could tell. His head was bent forward between you as he watched where he disappeared inside of you. His deep moans and hot heavy breaths hit your chest.

You raked your nails up his back, drawing his attention to your face as his head tipped back at the sensation. You took the opportunity to roll him over, pressing a hand to his chest to lay him down as you straddled his hips. Benedict’s hands came to rest on your hips as you pushed yourself back over down his thick silken cock, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh bound to leave their mark in either colour or feel. As you began to roll your hips you watched with delight as his head rolled further back into the pillows, the long column of his neck exposed fully. The sight of him, you were sure, could soothe the blind and, if only you were an artist, you would be sure to capture this very image.

“Oh Fuck” Benedict moaned after a particularly forceful roll of your hips. He began thrusting as ell as he could under you; opening his eyes to see you bracing one hand behind you on his shin, rolling your nipple in the other. The debauched scene before him made him double his efforts, grasping your hips and fucking up into you from below – allowing his thumb to stray down to your bud.

“Benedict” you prayed once more, arms giving out as you lay across him, only managing to hold yourself up with your elbows by his head. The change in angle allowed him to take more control from under you, biting into your shoulder as he drove you to orgasm, determined to feel your velvet hot core tighten around him. His calloused hands slid over you, brushing the soft peaks of your nipples as they cupped your breasts. He pulled one into his mouth as the other hand pressed you down onto his length. “Please”

“Yes “he breathed, feeling you pulse around him. “You’re so close my love. Come on, do it. I want to feel you over me.” His demand tipped you over the edge. The deep rumble of his words vibrating through you as an electric storm coursed through your veins. Benedict followed after you with a groan muffled into you neck. His cock pulsing seed into you until he was completely spent.

Rolling over next to him you collapsed back onto the cool sheets – turning your head to see him already looking at you, both sharing lazy grins as you caught your breath together. Benedict moved his hand just an inch to encapsulate yours, slowly dragging it up to his mouth to press a kiss to the back of your fingers.

“That was amazing.” You sighed, just about managing to speak and certainly not having the energy to move. Benedict’s hand flopped back down onto the bed, still holding yours.

“Yes it was” he whispered, pulling a thin sheet over the both of you as you settled into the stillness of the night.

#my writing #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #Benedict bridgerton imagine #Benedict bridgerton x reader

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years ago

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Make Me Feel Better Chapter 4

AO3 Link! wow, long time no update! welcome to a filler chapter that's not really a filler chapter but is definitely a filler chapter! I hope y'all enjoy it and tell me your thoughts if you'd like! and as always, sorry for any and every grammatical error!

disclaimer: as it is in 'What About What I Want?', Victoria is the oldest, Elise is the youngest, and Daniela is the middle child. this was started before information about the daughters was released so until I finish this fic up and the other one, that's how it's gonna be. okay?? okay!! enjoy!

Tag List (click here to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp, @rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians, @celina1221, @theuselesslezbian｜Anna, @Gansito83, @Followingmyheartledmetoyou, (won’t tag, idk why)

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Two weeks. You’d been down in your cell for two whole weeks. Alcina hadn’t even come down to see you, only sending either Elise or Victoria to check on you and bring you your meals. You stayed facing the wall, your back to the cell as it opened.

“Y/N?” That voice didn’t belong to Elise or Victoria, it belonged to Daniela. You felt yourself tense when your name fell from her lips. “I’m… I’m not here to hurt you. I actually shouldn’t even be down here.” Daniela explained.

You still hadn’t made an effort to turn and face her. You felt the bed dip as Daniela sat down. “What do you want?” You asked, your voice soft.

Daniela sighed. “I’m sorry.” She glanced over at you before continuing. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me for what I said, but I am sorry.” Daniela said, reiterating her two worded apology. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Mother Miranda said that the way I acted reflected badly on her and my family, I… she was disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself, if you can believe that.”

“I don’t.” You replied, still staring at the wall. You wanted her to leave, you wanted to be left alone. In all honesty, you wish you hadn’t run into Heisenberg that night you’d been travelling after escaping your kidnappers.

Daniela stood up from the bed. “Mother Miranda wanted me to give you these. Mother says that Mother Miranda will be visiting in a few days and she wants you to know what the high priestess looks like and how to act when she gets here. You’re to write a report and Elise or Victoria will pick it up tomorrow evening.” Daniela’s tone was now firm as opposed to earlier tone when she was apologising.

Daniela left after that, the cell door closing with a loud thud. You looked over your shoulder and found the room empty, she was really gone. When you sat up in the bed, you looked over at the table and your eyes widened before you let out a scream. The face in the photograph, you knew that face. You stood up from the bed and slowly made your way over to the picture, your hands shaking as you picked up. That was Mother Miranda? You shook your head, no no no, it couldn’t be. You dropped the picture and went over to the door. You were about to bang on it and scream for Alcina when the door creaked open a bit, Daniela hadn’t locked it, strange.

“Hello? Daniela?” You called out into the dungeon. You gulped as you took a step out of the cell, looking around to see if there were any of those ghouls lurking around, you didn’t know what they were called. You tried to remember how Lady Dimitrescu had brought you down here, but it was dark so you could barely see. You’d almost given up and was on your way back to your cell when you heard something. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

You heard a growl in response and a shiver ran down your spine. You could hear a scraping noise, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Please, can you help me?” You asked the surrounding darkness.

“Run!” Was suddenly screamed into your ear and it was all you needed to set you off.

You ran until you rounded a corner and found yourself face to face with those ghouls. There was little light in this part of the cellar, but you could see that some of them had swords and you gulped. You let out a scream as one of them moved toward you swinging the swords, others trying to claw at you with their sickles. One of their sickles caught your upper arm, tearing the sleeve of your shirt. You pushed past them, managing to find your way to a set of stairs that led to the kitchen area. You grimaced at all of the dead animals hanging up, looking away as you came upon a hallway that led you to a hallway where you saw a door. A door that leads to… the dining room? That was good, right? You knew the door to the right led to main hall. Mostly because you could hear voices, but you’d been through the dining room plenty of times to get to the courtyard. You opened the door slowly, seeing the Lady and her daughters talking and you gulped. You could easily sneak out the courtyard door, go to the gardens, make your way into the woods and leave, but would that really fix everything? Running away again?

“Darling, are you going to stay behind the door or would you like to join us?” A voice asked, you recognised it as Alcina’s. “And how, pray tell, did you get out of your cell?” Alcina asked, but she was looking at Daniela.

Daniela shrugged. “I locked the door, but the key must be faulty.” Daniela replied.

Alcina sighed. “I will deal with you later, Daniela. For now, go find something to do while I talk with Y/N.” Alcina ordered. The girls half swarmed away upstairs and you caught Daniela running her thumb across her neck and mouthing, “You’re dead.”, causing your eyes to widen a bit. “Did you learn your lesson?” Alcina asked.

You frowned. “You left me down there for two weeks, Alcina.” You replied. “Two whole fucking weeks and you didn’t even check on me. And then you send Daniela down there and she fucking gives me a picture of Mother Miranda.” Her name left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“And what about Mother Miranda, dearest?” Alcina asked with a raised eyebrow.

You let out a small sigh. “She’s the one… that was holding me captive. I escaped from her.” You replied.

Alcina hummed. “Impossible. You said you’d been walking for days before you go to the village and Mother Miranda resides here so you must be mistaken.” Alcina said.

“I’m not mistaken, Alcina! She’s the one that I escaped from and I had been walking for days before I ran into Heisenberg.” You argued. You shook your head. “I don’t feel safe here anymore, Alcina.” You said quietly.

“Come here,” Alcina commanded and you went to stand in front of her. “I told you, you are safe here, not anywhere else. Do you understand?” You nodded your head. “Despite your words, you will remain in this Castle, under my protection. I won’t let anyone harm you, and I definitely won’t let Mother Miranda get her hands on you again. Is that clear?” You nodded your head again. “You poor dear, you were down there for an awfully long time. I suppose I should explain why.”

You looked up at her. “Explain why?” You questioned. ”I thought you didn’t…” Your sentence trailed off.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t care?” You chewed on your lip. “Of course I care, darling, that’s why I had you down there. To put it simple, there was… an incident that needed to be tended to and it was best for you to be down there than up here.” Alcina explained.

“What happened?” You asked.

Alcina shook her head. “Nothing to concern that beautiful brain of yours with. Now, why don’t we get you all cleaned up and fed, yes?” She suggested and you nodded your head. You let out a small yelp when she picked you up. “I’m terribly sorry that you had to be down there for so long, perhaps it was a bit cruel of me to subject you to that part of your punishment.” Alcina said as she carried you to the bathroom in her chambers.

“The report?” You asked, suddenly remembering what Daniela told you. Alcina hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything. “Daniela said-“

Alcina cut you off. “Just because Daniela claims that I said something doesn’t mean it’s true. She may have learned her lesson with how she treated you, but it doesn’t mean you’re automatically off her bad side.” Alcina said. “Now, you take your time in here, and I will have Natalie bring you something to eat, I’m sure the two of you have much to catch up on, dear.” Alcina didn’t leave room for you to reply as she exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

You didn’t know how long you stayed in the bath for, but by the time you opened your eyes, the water was cold. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you made your way into the bedroom to find Natalie tidying the room up while a tray of food sat on a nearby table.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Natalie exclaimed. You smiled at her and sat in front of the tray to eat. “So much happened while you were down there. Did the Lady tell you about it?” Natalie asked. You shook your head. “Oh. Well then, I better not speak on it, she might have my head for it.” Natalie said with a small laugh. “The Lady wanted me to tell you to meet her in her study after you’re done eating.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, okay.” You replied. The two of you sat in silence while you mostly played with your food before deciding that you’d had enough. “I’ll um, I’ll see you around, Nat.” You said as she took the tray from the room.

“Try not to get put in the cellar again. It was very lonely without you around to nag at me.” Natalie said before leaving the bedroom.

You dressed before making your way down a few hallways before coming to Alcina’s study, knocking and only entering when she told you you could. “Natalie sa-“ She put a finger to her lips to quiet you before gesturing for you to sit down.

“Yes, Heisenberg, I am well aware of that now.” Alcina replied before sighing. “If you could just… Heisenberg, listen carefully, whatever you have planned, just keep it under wraps.” Alcina said. “Yes, I know. She did? Mother told you? Well, what about me?” Alcina questioned. Her brows furrowed. “Heisenberg we will continue this discussion another time.” Alcina replied. “Yes, you may come over, but if you bring any of your disgusting mutts here, I will not hesitate to turn them into skewers, do you understand?”Alcina threatened. “Good.” Was all she said before hanging up.

“What did he say?” You asked, shifting a bit in your seat.

Alcina shook her head. “Not now, darling. You’ll know what’s going on in due time.” Alcina replied. “I need you in here be-“ Alcina found herself being cut off by the arrival of her daughter, Daniela. “Because of her.” Alcina said, gesturing toward Daniela.

Daniela crossed her arms. “What is that rat doing here, Mother?” Alcina raised her eyebrow. “Sorry, Mother.”

“You two will be… getting better acquainted before the arrival of Mother Miranda.” Alcina said. “I won’t hear any excuses as to why you don’t want, Daniela. Besides, you’re to make sure Y/N feels safe here in our Castle. This is a much their home as it is yours.” Alcina explained. “And with some new information I received, you and your sisters will remain with Y/N at all times until I feel as if you don’t need to. You all may take turns watching them, but do try to give them as much space as possible.”

“At all times?” You asked.

Alcina nodded her head. “Yes. Excluding when you’re sleeping as you’ll be with me.” Alcina replied. “Any other questions?”

“Why do we have to babysit Y/N?” Daniela asked.

“Because Daniela, it is for their own safety.” Alcina answered. “If you wish to know more about the situation then ask Y/N about it. Until then, you both will need to write letters to each apologising for your actions. You’re dismissed.” Daniela opened her mouth to protest but closed it immediately because of the look her Mother gave her. “Deliver the news to your sisters, thank you. And take Y/N with you. You two can work in the library and I will be by later to check on what you have written so far.” Alcina said before fussing over her paperwork.

“Alcina?” She hummed. “Thank you.” You said quietly before rounding the table and kissing her on the cheek. “I really appreciate you making the effort to make sure that I feel safer in the Castle and hopefully with time I can gain Daniela’s trust.” You gave her a small smile and wave before exiting the study, running to catch up with Daniela who had left you behind.

Alcina let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. She couldn’t necessarily overpower Mother Miranda on her own, but if she could make you feel safer, protect you, and have you be grateful for that then she could accept that until she could take down Mother Miranda for the hell she put you through.

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