#actually it may be just a step before mead but like. it's still mead

[machidielontheway]

hm. accidentally made mead ??

[dalishthunder]

Throw a Dart at the Map (p2)

Pairing: Nebarra/LDB (Gender Neutral Reader)

Rating: Mature

Words: 2260

Additional Info: Pining, yearning, fluff, drunk games

It had been over an hour since you'd hopped off the ship to see what the island had to offer, and the night only continued to grow colder, so being the sensible mer that he was, Nebarra had holed himself up in the ship's cabin. There really wasn't much in there, but he did strip the furs off of the bed and swaddle himself in them. It was too risky to start a fire, and he was starting to get a little anxious about letting you go out there alone... and he'd already drunk all of the wine.

It wasn't helping with the cold.

He had no idea how you did it. Probably stupid ancient dragon magic.

The door flew open, wind flooding the room with even more frigid air as you stepped inside.

"About time." Nebarra grumbled. "Close the godsdamned door."

"Awww, is somebody feeling a little nippy?" You grinned at him, face flushed from the elements. Shaking off the snow you muttered a quick, "Yol," and steam began to rise off you as it melted.

"Oh, stuff it. Did you find anything? Maybe an inn...?"

You shook your head. "Just an abandoned shack. But," Your pack clanged down on the table, and you rummaged through it, procuring a few bottles. I didn't come back completely empty handed."

He caught the bottle you tossed it to him. Flin. Well, it wasn't wine, but it would have to do. "Better than nothing."

"Stronger than wine." You said, nudging him to move over so you could sit next to him.

"Stronger than some wine." He popped the cork out, grabbing his straw from an empty wine bottle.

"Hey, I wanted some of that too!" You grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a large swig before he could do anything. The face you made as it went down was priceless, and he laughed, eyes drinking in the countours of your sour expression in the warm lamp light.

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Legendary Dragonborn, Defender of Skyrim, Drinker of Dragon Souls, Most Elligible Bacheloree of Tamriel, Savior of Nirn, Talos Reborn... allegedly, still doesn't know how to handle an itty bitty sip of alcohol."

You foisted the bottle back into his hands, smacking him on the shoulder. He played into it, swaying and falling back on the bed dramatically.

"Careful, this dragon has teeth, ahrk zu'u bahlok*."

"Don't I know it..." It was more a breath than a whisper as it left his lips.

You snapped your teeth with a grin, pulling out a bottle of mead instead. "But I think I'll stick to stuff that actually tastes good."

Nebarra sat up, jostling you with his shoulder as you took your first sip, snickering as it spilled down over your chin.

"Rude!" You smacked his shoulder again. "Now I'm going to be all sticky...."

His eyes certainly didn't catch on a droplet as it ran down your neck, wondering how it would taste on his tongue mixed with the salt of your skin. That was certainly not a thought on his mind as you wiped it away.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself, brigand?"

He sipped some of the flin up with his straw, trying to ignore the tremor of cold in his hands.

He was very much not one known for having a filter, and it was better he occupy his mouth than say something incriminating.

You stopped to look at him, annoyance fading to something more along the lines of concern. "You really are a little Nebsickle right now, aren't you...."

His eyes narrowed... not that you could see it. "Call me that again, and I'll gut you like a fish."

You just shook your head, putting down your mead. "Oh please...."

"The flin is doing a fine job of warming me up."

"It's opening up your capilaries so you may feel warmer but you're losing heat faster."

"So what, you want me to just burn down my nice new ship because I'm a little cold? Do you even hear yourself?" He hissed, sipping up some more flin.

"That's not what I was going to suggest."

He leaned back, licking his lips... there were several activities that he was stiffling thoughts of that he could think of that would warm him up very quickly. "I'm listening." His voice was little more than a wary rasp, and he took another sip.

"Take off your armor, we're sharing body warmth. I can't warm myself up in my sleep, and while you're the most pig-headed, stubborn ass I've ever met, I don't think your eternal flame of burning hatred or whatever is going to protect you from the cold all night." Your voice got less and less certain the longer you spoke, and your gaze shifted to the flickering lamp, "Or we could go look for firewood and set up camp outside."

His breath hitched in his throat, words jumbling for a moment before he replied, "I... understand the utilitarian purpose... but do we really have to take off all of our armor?"

"If you're worried about your helm, it's okay if you want to keep that on... I meant more... body stuff.... There's not a lot of furs here, and I didn't expect to be in... this sort of situation so I didn't really pack appropriately-" You let out an awkward huff, "And there's really only one bed. Xel and I usually-"

He was not about to be one upped by a lizard.

His guantlet clattered to the floor, and you jumped at the noise. "You'd better be warm."

"Don't worry, I run pretty hot."

He didn't comment, instead focusing on doffing down to his clothes. Thank the gods he'd bathed recently.

From the sounds of it, you were busy following his lead. He glanced over to where you were stacking your armor pieces. This didn't have to be weird. You did this with your other companions all the time. Definitely Xelzaz. Probably even Kaidan.

His blood boiled a little at that. Stupid, huge, attractive Akaviri... following you around like a lost mutt.... Nebarra wondered what you had said to him to convince him to stay on the mainland.

For a moment... just a moment he considered taking off his helm as well, but he'd already almost made a mistake earlier in the night, and somehow the idea of sharing a tiny bed all night didn't make him feel any safer on that front. So, he crawled under the furs, eyes trained on you as you finished, downing the last of his flin.

Perhaps his most grievous mistake of the night.

Back to him, you whispered something again before sitting down at the edge of the bed.

"Are you coming, or did I doff myself for nothing?" He asked after a moment, resting his head in his hand as he watched you.

"Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought for a moment." You flashed him a smile.

"Well, I'm getting colder by the minute, but sure whenever you want is fine." You flipped him off, worming your way under the covers next to him until your back was against his chest.

Gods you were like a little furnace.

Hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and hoping you couldn't feel the way his heart was trying to pound its way out of his ribcage. He let out a little content sigh as you placed your hands over his.

"Wow, you're freezing."

"Sorry." He mumbled, tone far more awkward and unsure than he was used to.

You let out a breathy chuckle. "Don't be." Your fingers tangled with his. "Gives me a chance to practice this."

"Do not set my ship on fire."

You placed his hands over your heart, fingers still laced with his. "Graan Yol Krein**."

It wasn't a shout he was familiar with, but it was impossible to ignore the quick beats of your heart or the way warmth suffused through his veins. Rich and full like a hot bowl of stew, and between the balm of your hands and the stiffness of his drink, a soft moan escaped his throat. A dawning mortification gripped him.

You froze, letting go of his hands.

Well, there went not making things awkward.

He cleared his throat, voice just a touch too high, "Is that a new shout?"

That seemed to relax you a bit, and you settled against him again, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Yeah, I'm thinking of calling it Hearthfire. It was inspired when I was studying fire salts with Xelzaz and how and if they could improve one of his mixtures-"

"What's... What's that whole situation?"

"Oh, it turned out that fire salts ran too hot, but if we mixed a pinch with some void sal-"

"No. No, I mean... what's the whole deal with you and Xelzaz? Are you two...?" Oh gods he needed to shut up....

How strong was that flin?

"What?"

"Y'know...."

As realization hit you, you buried your face in your palms. "No... it's not like that. No. He's um... he's not interested in me like that and-"

"Woah, woah, woah... I'm gonna need you to repeat that because I'm sure my hearing is acting up-"

"Nope, if you weren't listening, that's on you."

"How do you even know he's not-"

"Why do you care?" You turned to look at him, eyes wary. You were too close... too close.

"I just...." He let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

And then something passed over your eyes, the corners of your mouth turning upwards in an incredulous smile. "By Azura... you're in love with Xelzaz, aren't you?"

"What?"

"By the gods, how did I not figure this out sooner?" You put your hands over your mouth. "Oh, Honey, I'm so sorry.... I don't think-"

"I'm not in love with Xelzaz!"

"It's okay, I understand! He's my best friend, and you have my blessing, but I don't want to give you false hope for a future that probably will never happen."

He let out an exhasperated groan.

"Don't worry, I think everyone he meets wants to bone him a little bit-"

"Stop. Talking."

"I know your wedding would have been beautiful and practical. Obviously, I'd be the Attendee of Honor-"

"Xelzaz is very much Not My Type. Besides, I'm already supposed to be married to you remember?"

Your eyes widened.

"Xelzaz seems to think we're an old married couple, after all." He elaborated after a moment, very much appreciating his decision to keep his helmet on.

You snickered, settling down again, back pressed up against his chest. "Of course. How could I forget?"

At least that shut you up about your stupid Xelzaz theory.

Auri-El smite him the day that happens.

His fingers played idly with the fabric of your shirt, and he closed his eyes, debating whether or not to pull you in tighter.

"So... husband." You said after a while, and his eyes immediately opened. "What was our wedding like?"

He really shouldn't be playing along with your sick game.

But you were warm, and his blood was more alcohol than anything else at the moment, so he replied, "... Small. We eloped."

You nodded, "There would've been too many invitations to write otherwise. Xelzaz officiated obviously."

"Obviously." His arms tightened around you, pulling you in just a little bit further.

"How many kids did we have?"

He let out a low whistle, "Wow... a parent who doesn't even know how many kids we have. Why did I marry you?"

You snorted. "Two. We had two."

"Wrong! You are bad at this whole parenting thing." He grinned, basking in the warmth. "We had five."

You balked. "Five is way too many."

"I agree, we really should have stopped at one, but you insisted that we absolutely had to have a middle child with self-esteem issues."

Your laughter echoed off the walls of the cabin, belly rocking. "Okay, okay... we had three."

"Which of our children disappointed me the most?"

"Wow... what a cold father." He could still hear the laughter in your voice as you spoke, "Obviously it was our eldest."

"And what did he do that perturbed me so?"

"He wanted to be a bard."

Nebarra let out a snort of derision.

"I funded his way through the bard college, which is how we got divorced."

Affection tugged on his heart strings, "You know me too well."

"Our son was a phenomenal harpist, it's a shame you never stuck around for any of his recitals."

He scoffed, tucking his head to rest his chin on your shoulder. "Well at least he was talented. How about you? Why did you divorce me?"

For a moment, you were silent, and he could feel an uncomfortable twinge in his chest... waiting for your response.

"Because after five years of marriage, I still hadn't seen your face."

It was the flin. It was the flin, and the stupid warmth.

"It's really that important to you, huh?"

"I mean... hypothetically in that sort of situation. But don't ever feel that you have to do anything you don't want to do just because I'm curious."

It was the flin. It was the flin and this stupid, godsdamned game you two were playing.

He licked his lips, letting you go and sitting up a bit.

Your eyes were focused on him, expression curious, something in your eyes that he couldn't quite read. "Neb... you don't have to if you don't want to."

It was the flin.

His helm clattered to the ground with the rest of his armor.

* ahrk zu'u bahlok - and I hunger

**Graan Yol Krein - Warmth Fire Sun

[placesyoucallhome]

I think I might have also asked for a secret wish, so given you've already done a lot of those... 🍺 : A drunk headcanon?

We're all aware that Ruhka drinks like a fish and it takes him several bottles of liquor to get drunk, but what's he actually like when drunk? Extremely flirty and cuddly actually. Inhibitions go out the door and he will get really handsy if no one stops him. He doesn't get THAT drunk very often for that reason because he has a bad feeling he'll wake up in someone else's bed if he does. And I can't say he's wrong.

Nemo is a lightweight, which may be a little funny because he makes mead as a hobby. He's either a giggly drunk or a sad drunk, and he feels like it's a coinflip, one he's not too keen on making. Tipsy is alright, tipsy just loosens his tongue a little. He also has the worst hangover after and he's not willing to deal with that.

Yvet can drink quite a bit before it hits him. His stoicness carries through though, mostly anyways. He is a lot more openly flirty, and willing to be handsy before waiting for an invitation (though he'll step back if told to still). He's, honestly, probably expecting a one night stand to happen with someone.

[jimblejamblewritings]

falling for the captain | part 1.

Summary: Captain Y/N L/N. Leader of the Avengers on Earth-563, not really a family or team strictly just coworkers. A lot of responsibility for someone only nineteen. What happens when the Captain finds herself on “Earth Earth” in the compound of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Stuck on Earth for the time being, Y/N sees what these Avengers are about. And Captain America finds himself falling for this leader, even though her age is throwing him… that and the fact no one knows if she’ll head back to Earth-563 the minute she can.

Warnings: AGE GAP (clear from the summary, it’s a young reader but legal), none

Pairing: (eventual) Steve Rogers x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Note: first of all, huge shoutout to @venusbarnes​ for the idea of a young reader and creating such an interesting dynamic with that. I recommend her operation brat fic! Second, the reader is going to be black/woc. I try to switch it up with my stories, leaving some with ambiguous readers or with characteristics you can work around. But I feel like we don’t have a lot of explicitly woc!reader inserts like how we do for white or ambiguous!reader inserts so for this one I chose to be more over the head with it but anyone not poc, hopefully shouldn’t feel taken out of the story.

(Series Masterlist)

“Honestly, I think it’s just some magic trick. That’s it. All that’s to it,” Tony muttered as he downed his drink.

“Didn’t we have this argument last year, Stark,” Natasha laughed.

The Avengers were gathered in the common room, drinking and relaxing after a mission. It was the first real mission with Wanda, Vision, Peter, and Bucky. Bucky stayed monitoring in the quinjet, Wakanda might have been able to give him a new arm but even they couldn’t get rid of the mind control of HYDRA. It ran so deep in Bucky. Shuri thought maybe it’s because he was still scared. They would revisit the re-programming on a different day.

Enjoying the little get together was everyone who stayed in the compound, plus Rhodey. Scott had left to do whatever. Peter went back to his Aunt May’s for the weekend and T’Challa was busy running whole kingdoms but promised to make it the next night.

“Ah ah. We had this argument but Thor wouldn’t let us try it,” Tony rebutted.

Thor set Mjolnir on the table and gestured towards it. “Go ahead then, try.”

The God of Asgard laughed as most of his teammates tried and failed to lift the hammer. He lifted his flask of Asgardian mead towards Natasha but the Black Widow just shook her head. Natasha didn’t need the hammer to answer if she was worthy or not. It wasn’t a question she really wanted to find out the answer to.

Thor’s eye twitched when Steve stepped towards Mjolnir. No one may have noticed but Thor was firmly looking at how the hammer moved ever so slightly under Steve’s pull. He tried to laugh it off as Steve sat back down and held out his cup for Thor to pour him some more mead. Steve and Bucky were grateful for Thor’s stash of alcohol; it felt so good for them to be able to get drunk again with the team.

“So how long do you think before Fury’s breathing down our backs again?” Rhodey asked.

“Since you somehow convinced the UN we didn’t need the Accords, I give it a week tops,” Clint said. “Actually, in three days, we’ll find ourselves in some country before Monday.”

Everyone chuckled. Convincing the UN to let the Avengers still run without being signed to anything was a lot of work. After Sokovia, they weren’t exactly happy. But with the promise of establishing a S.H.I.E.L.D. branch in the UN and the backing of T’Challa to vouch for them, they managed to stay the way they were operating before.

“Well, if we’re going to be shipped out before the weekend ends… who wants to play a game?” Tony asked.

Everyone groaned, Tony’s games usually involved things that were both embarrassing and very sexual. Before they could move to make themselves comfortable for the game, a portal opened up in front of the couches. A girl and a cat tumbled out.

“No, no, no! Shit!” you yelled as the portal closed.

You patted on the brick fireplace. You moved your arm and hands in the circle you’ve done so many times but nothing happened. You groaned. This was not the plan. You were supposed to knock the HYDRA agent into the portal, sending him away from Earth-563 and to wherever the hell you were now. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, you hoped your team could function without you.

Well, you knew they could. You might have been “Captain” but it wasn’t really like you were close with the team, you just fought alongside them. They were the family, you were the outsider.

You let out a frustrated yell and turned around. A group of, well you had no clue who they were, stared at you. Before you could even say anything, a large man with long blond hair was pressing a hammer into your stomach. You would’ve laughed but somehow you couldn’t move from under the hammer.

“Who are you and state your case?” he said, aggressively.

“Um, (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). My case is… staying here until I get back home, I guess.”

“And home is?”

“Earth-563 shortened to Earth.”

“Call Fury.” You heard someone else say. You couldn’t see past the man in front of you.

“Who’s the feline?” You heard a female voice ask.

“You mean Goose?”

There were a couple chuckles before it became deadly silent again.

“You named the cat Goose?” Some other voice asked. It sounded like a man… and dripping with arrogance.

“I was three, sue me.”

“Well, I think we can handle the girl. And she seems to not be a threat, you can let her go Thor,” a different man said. At least you think it was a different man, the voice sounded more authoritative but it could’ve been the same for all you knew.  

Thor. So that was the name of the man holding you to the fireplace. Thor very slowly let you go, you knew he didn’t trust you. None of them probably trusted you. Not that you could blame them but also if anyone was in your position, you should be the scared one. There’s only one of you and like thirty of them.

As Thor backed away, you could see all the other people standing up and watching you. Not that you were focused on anyone else, just the man with the metal arm. The man you hadn’t seen till he got shipped off to war.

“James?” you breathed out.

Your feet moved before your brain could process. You threw your arms around Bucky’s neck while he just stood there awkwardly. None of the other Avengers could move. You pulled back and placed both your hands on the side of his face.

“What happened to you? They told us the 107th went— you were MIA… you’re not my James, are you?”

You pulled away very embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve seen your face before.”

“How the hell do you know Barnes?” the arrogant man asked.

“I… can I get some names first? I don’t know any of you.”

“You seem to know Bucky… Fine, Tony Stark,” Tony said after you glared at him.

The rest of the team, that you came to know as the Avengers— funny that was the name of your team as well, introduced themselves.

“Maybe we should hold off on, (Y/N) was it?” Steve asked, he continued when you nodded. “How about we wait for (Y/N) to answer when Nick gets here.”

“When is that?”

“He said give him thirty minutes,” Natasha said as she looked at her phone.

Thirty minutes in awkward silence is all you were thinking. So you plopped down onto the floor and grabbed Goose, petting that cat while you waited. The Avengers just stared at you. It wasn’t everyday a girl opened a portal into what they thought was their very secure compound.

~~

The first thing you heard was a scream. A man with an eye patch attempted to return himself to his normally stoic demeanor. The rest of the Avengers looked at him in complete confusion, they had never seen the Nick Fury act like that before. Your cat meowed and you lifted him to your ear. You nodded in understanding.

“Goose says she’s sorry about the 90s and the whole…” you pointed to your eye.

Nick looked at you amazed. “You speak Flerken?”

“Flerken? The cat meows?”

“She has a dangerous alien pet and thinks it’s still a cat. Okay, who the hell are you?” Nick asked as he sat down on one of the armchairs.

You spent the next hour answering all their questions as best as you could: Your name was (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N), nineteen years old. You come from Earth-563, a parallel Earth according to a quick phone call to a Carol Danvers by Nick. You were captain of the Avengers back on your Earth where yes HYDRA is also a problem, on top of other threats. Your powers closely resembled Wanda’s with a few additional points. You’ve known Goose since you were a baby and no you weren’t sure how the cat made its way to Earth-563. You don’t know why you can’t get back home, the portal you created should’ve opened the minute you tried. And of course the pressing question was how do you know Bucky?

“My brother?”

“Brother? That’s impossible, Bucky’s—”

You cut Sam off.

“James Buchanan Barnes. 107th regiment. Sergeant. Adopted by our parents on March 10, making that his birthday. Lost an arm in duty on a super soldier program. Was given a new arm and immediately chose to continue fighting. You brought me the cat when you came back during a break from fighting. Admittedly, you look a bit older than I remember but James was already older before I was even born. We were told his regiment was declared MIA… they wanted to declare to you dead but we wouldn’t let them. You told me you were with me till—”

“Till the end of the line. Okay, somehow she knows me.”

“Well, it is possible for some of us to have parallel versions of us. Maybe Bucky is one of them?” Bruce offered.

“But then why don’t I know you or I guess our Earth’s you?” Bucky asked, turning back.

“Well, we did come from the 40s Buck,” Steve said. “It wasn’t exactly like they let everyone… hang out.”

He awkwardly cleared his throat, not wanting to really talk about the less than diverse times he came from and it was pretty obvious from the curly hair and brown skin that you looked nothing like most of the Avengers, save Sam and Rhodey. The team agreed and dropped the subject. The new focus was on your powers, or lack thereof.

“I don’t get it. You all saw the portal.”

“Yeah, gave us quite the shock.”

“That’s not even half of what I can do… if I could do it.”

“So you’re a badass fighter, with no powers right now and currently no way to get home,” Tony said as he took a sip of the whiskey he had been slowly nursing since you tumbled into the living room. “Would you like to join the Avengers? Well, our Earth’s Avengers.”

“What?”

“Well you seem like you already do this whole superhero thing and we can’t exactly let you leave here until we have everything figured out. Not that we don’t believe you but can never be too cautious, kid.”

“So join your Avengers or be a prisoner till you vet me?”

Tony shrugged. You looked down at Goose in your lap, the cat giving no response but a yawn.

“Okay, I guess we’re in.”

“Great. I think we can call it a night. F.R.I.D.A.Y.!”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” the robotic voice rang throughout the compound.

“Spare room in the compound?”

“The only fully done spare room would be on the floor with Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t mind sharing a floor with the old men?”

“I don’t think so… you don’t snore, right?”

Sam laughed while Steve and Bucky just shook their heads.

“Okay. Capsicle, Buckaroo. Show the lady to your floor. We’ll continue all this when we’re all less drunk. Maybe the little lady can show us her powers, huh?”

Everyone started heading out one by one. Nick Fury said goodbye to you from a distance, refusing to step near the cat. You followed Steve and Bucky into the elevators. Despite the elevator being big, you and Goose felt relatively squished sandwiched between the two super soldiers. When you exited the elevators, you understood why there weren’t many people rooming on a single floor. After Bucky opened the door to your room, it might as well have been a mini apartment— minus a kitchen.

“This is huge.” You let Goose drop from your arms and she walked around before jumping gently onto the bed.

“Tony’s money,” Steve said. “So, F.R.I.D.A.Y. should give you a wake-up call. We usually meet in the kitchen before doing our own thing.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s the A.I.?”

“Yeah. Also, Tony.”

You hummed in understanding. “I don’t suppose the closet has a change of clothes? Or do I just have to sleep in my fighting clothes?”

Bucky looked at you confused. “You fight in jean shorts? Doesn’t that leave you a bit exposed?”

“Hmm? HYDRA agents only hit me badly a couple times, I heal up pretty fine. Never really thought about what I fight in.”

“Well, you should reconsider.”

“How are you and my James so much alike? Huh, parallel bodies have the same condescending brain.”

Bucky said nothing, but you could see the corner of his mouth go up just a bit. Steve bit back a laugh. Bucky left and returned with a sweater and sweatpants. He handed them to you.

“How’d you know I listen to AC/DC?” You asked as you looked at the logo on the sweatpants.

“I didn’t… you just seemed like the type. I guess maybe I do know you or some things about you.”

“Well, thank you, Bu— James.”

“You can call me Bucky.”

“Are you sure?”

“You called him that, didn’t you? It’s fine with me.”

“Okay. Thanks. Goodnight, Bucky, Steve.”

The two said their goodnights to you and you closed your door. You looked around your new temporary residence.

“Um, F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Yes, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“How do I work the shower?”

(Part 2)...

[lawful-evil-novelist]

The Smiling One Recipes #1: The Stew from Chapter 10

Hey guys!  I know we’re all still recovering from the nightmare that was chapter 10, but for a little interactive game to ease tensions and also display how absolutely mad I am, I decided  I wanted to share some of the food eaten in The Smiling One, and Chapter 10 happens to be the first time I give a simpler recipe: a one-pot rabbit stew.  It’s a modified version of the traveler’s stew from Heroes’ Feast, but it’s absolutely a good, hearty meal that is very comforting if, say, the writer of the fanfic you’re 10 chapters into just served you a massive gut-punch cliffhanger without any remorse.

Now I wanna give a few fair warnings before we really start because although this stew is simple, I know not everyone is very versed in cooking:

Make sure you are as mentally prepped as you are physically prepped.  Stew is simple but it is also extremely time consuming and labor intensive.  If you don’t have the spoons to cook, don’t force yourself to cook.

Make sure you know your ingredients before you go get them.  If you’re like me and can’t get a hold of or afford an ingredient, find a substitution.  I’ll have a few listed that I used for the sake of helping you guys out.  Just be aware it will change the end-result slightly.

Prep in advance and clean as you go.  The nice thing about stew is there are long periods where you’re not really doing much and that is the perfect time to get some cleaning done, provided all your other ingredients were already prepared and set aside for when you need them.  If you need to cut something, cut it before you start; it’ll save you a ton of time.  I’ll have the prep included in the recipe.

Cooking is more of an art than a science.  If you think something should be removed, added, or modified, feel free to do so.  You don’t need to work in exacts.

Alright with all that in mind, let’s get into ingredients.  For the stew, you’ll need the following:

¼ cup all-purpose flour

1 ½ pounds cremini mushrooms (if you cannot find these, use white button mushrooms, they’re the same species)

1 ½ pounds rabbit (rabbit is hard to find, if needed, chicken thighs of the same weight can be substituted)

4 tbsp vegetable oil (this is how much I used, you may need more or less depending)

1 cup mead/red wine*

4 cups of bone broth (chicken preferably)

1 teaspoon sweet paprika

1 large yellow onion

2 russet potatoes (if you want to use yukon gold potatoes, use 3)

2 carrots

*A note on cooking with wine and mead: Wine comes in a lot of types based on grape and aging process.  I used zinfandel because I actually drink that wine, but it’s actually not very good for cooking with lighter meats.  Merlot is usually the wine recommended, I just don’t like merlot and don’t want to waste wine.  Mead should, obviously, not be carbonated, and keep in mind that while wine will add a fruity body to the drink, mead will add a sweetness.  If you wanna go for fic accuracy, in the chapter the alcohol being used is probably mead.

The first step in this process is prep, which is the second most labor-intensive part of the recipe:

Wash, stem, and cut your mushrooms into bite-sized pieces.  Mushrooms are almost always really dirty so make absolutely sure you’ve washed them thoroughly (I’m bad at that don’t be me).  Put the mushrooms in their own bowl.

Peel and chop your carrots into 1/2-inch slices.

Peel and chop your onion, the cut job doesn’t need to be pretty, it just needs to be small enough to cook through.  I’m really bad at cutting onions so stew allows me to hide my mistakes.

Peel and chop your potatoes into roughly 1-inch pieces.  Put the potatoes, onions, and carrots in the same bowl they go in at the same time.

If you’re using rabbit, like Drizzt you may have to skin/debone/cut the meat yourself, same with the chicken.  I managed to get ahold of boneless, skinless chicken thighs so all I had to do was cut it into bite-sized pieces.

Once all your food is prepped, it’s time to cook!

Pre-Cook Your Mushrooms

Heat 1 tbsp of vegetable oil in a large pot on medium-high, heat until shimmering (I’m using a cast-iron dutch oven, they’re an indispensable part of any kitchen really).

Shimmering: Not smoking, not bubbling, just hot enough to be very fluid and water should evaporate when flicked into it.

Add your mushrooms and cook them until the liquid is released and evaporated.  Transfer them into a bowl and set aside.

Note: Mushrooms release liquid when heated, you MUST pre-cook them or you’ll make the stew watery.

Brown Your Meat:

Mix flour, pepper, salt, and a little paprika into a bowl and add your meat, toss the meat in the flour mixture until fully coated.

Add another tbsp of oil to the pot and heat until shimmering.

Add your meat in batches so as to not overcrowd.  You’re just browning the meat so it does not need to be fully cooked.  Make sure each piece is browned on all sides and transfer into a bowl before starting the next batch.  Add oil as needed.  When the meat is all browned, set the bowl aside.

This part of the recipe is labor-intensive and takes a decent amount of time, be prepped for that.

Cooking the Stew Proper:

Add your wine, then use it to scrape off any pieces of chicken or mushroom stuck to the bottom of the pot.  This is called deglazing and it gives you something to do while the alcohol cooks off the wine.  Not cooking off the alcohol just makes your stew taste like booze and that’s not great.

Add your meat, broth, and paprika, bring to a simmer, then lower the heat and cover.

Let cook for 1 ½ to 2 hours.  This is the part of cooking that’s a bit of a waiting game, it’s a good time to clean up any messes you’ve left or do other chores (or be me and write down the process of cooking a stew you made specifically because you don’t know how to stop investing way too much time and spoons into a fanfiction, I’m not your mom).

Add the onions, carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms and continue to cook for about 30 minutes.

Serve hot and add salt and pepper as needed/desired.

I like stew with sourdough bread so I went out and bought some, you don’t need to do that, serve it however you like and enjoy!  I’m gonna go lie down.

[dead-dove-diner]

ok I KNOW ur not into human poly but. consider. Jaskier, very drunk, snags Geralt (just as drunk or not who knows) saying he's found "a pretty lass to share" which they occasionally do when they aren't shagging each other stupid but the "pretty lass" is actually Geralt's mom.

YOU KNOW WHAT ANON?? YOURE RIGHT AND YOU SHOULD SAY IT!!!

Perfect! Gorgeous!!!

CW INCEST- Geralt/Jaskier/Visenna

They're invited into some druid celebration most definitely about sex and fertility and while its not exactly frowned upon to not join in on the celebrations, its also not exactly polite either- especially when they're also celebrating a successful hunt to rid the forest of the evil that had settled there and Geralt's been set as the guest of honor for the whole thing.

And Geralt loves sex! He does! But he's just killed the Leshy that's been bewitching the local wolves and hunting the forest and he's tired. It doesn't help that he'd been hoping Jaskier would help him with the nasty knot forming in his back before taking him to bed like he'd hinted at before Geralt trudged off on the hunt, because it was clear that wouldn't be happening now. The bard had been chatting up the same slight red haired woman for the better half of an hour, all grin and swagger and flirty little touches.

And Geralt does his best to tune them out, but he can't because suddenly Jaskier is looking over the womans shoulder at him, waving him over with a bright grin and Geralt's too weak to refuse him.

"Witcher!" he says, as he picks his way over to him, stepping around writhing bodies and discarded jugs of ale and mead.

He's the only one still dressed, stripped down to his trousers and shirt, armour dropped off to be fixed the next morning when celebrations finally end.

Jaskier, as always, has embraced the local attire as easily as breathing- and by that, he means the bard is completely naked save for the thick mat of hair on his chest and around his half hard cock.

"Witcher!" he says again, "Darling, I can't stand to see you sitting all alone on such a wonderful night but lucky for us this lovely lass has so graciously agreed to celebrate with us both! Together. At the same time."

Geralt hides the sudden rush fondness he feels with a roll of his eyes and grunt. They've shared women before, countless times if he's honest. Whores, barmaids, princesses- Yennefer, once, when they were all too full of drink to know better.

This woman, from what he can see from behind, looks as well suited to the job as any. Short, but sturdy, despite her slight frame- her thighs are thick with muscle, her waist small but strong, her breasts modest with large pink nipples perfect for sucking. Her hair washes down her back like a fall of fire, long and red, her cunt hidden away by a forest of the same colour.

"Witcher," Jaskier pulls him to his side as Geralt continues his slow appreciation. The woman is a marvel to behold, no doubt- soft in all the right places and perfect to fill the space between them. "My darling lady, fire-haired goddess of the forest-" Geralt stifles an amused snort at that, "may I introduce my lover and muse, The White Wolf, The Witcher-"

"Geralt of Rivia," her smooth voice interjects, and Geralt goes cold all over. His heart stutters, stomach dropping.

No.

Slowly, he drags his eyes from the pretty pink flush of her nipples, up her collarbones, over her jaw, lips, nose, and to piercing green eyes.

His throat clicks as he swallows and yet, somehow, his stirring cock hardens all the same.

"Visenna,"

"Oh, you know each other?" Jaskier claps his hands delightedly, a sharp slap that should break the spell that's fallen between them but doesn't. The space between them is buzzes like lightning, "How wonderful! This will make things much less awkward!"

A hysterical laugh echoes in the recesses of Geralt's brain. Fucking unlikely!

Visenna stays silent- watching as Geralt stares back mutely.

"So," the bard says, voice dropping to that low seductive purr that never fails to get Geralt going, "shall we find somewhere a little more private?"

The eye contact burns hotter than any flame.

"I think," she says slowly, still not looking away, "perhaps we should put on a little show."

Geralt's traitorous cock twitches, and Visenna smiles, slow and hot.

"Don't you agree, Geralt?"

And Geralt, tipsy and weak in the face of whatever the fuck this is, can only nod.

Visenna's smile grows.

"Good boy,"

[youbloodymadgenius]

Nothing Left (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerd 2k Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, Hayley, you deserve each and every one of us 🌻

The gif is a dead giveaway: this piece is an angsty one 😬 Sorry about that but I feel like I can’t write fluff all the time 😉

Prompt in bold

Thanks to @zuxiezendler for beta reading this for me (hope you don't mind Hayley, but since it was for your challenge... 😉)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Leaving Ivar is not an easy task.

Warnings: angst; Ivar's temper; physical assault (no harm done, though); Freydis is beautiful; no happy ending (you've been warned).

Words: 2089

Crutch – right foot – left foot – crutch – right foot – left foot

You can hear him coming. Of course, you can.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He's not yet in your shared bedroom and he's already shouting. Instead of turning around, you grab the little carved wooden wolf he gifted you many years ago and put it in your pouch.

As he stabs the wooden floor with his crutch, you can physically feel his anger. "You thought you could sneak out? Uh?" You know his jaw is clenched, and he's probably shaking with rage.

"This is what you intended to do, admit it!"

You just scoff. No, you didn't intend to sneak out, not in your wildest dreams. Not with White Hair's men everywhere, night and day.

A thump – his fist hitting the table, you'd say – and then a roar.

"ANSWER YOUR KING!!!!!"

Glancing over your shoulder, you give him a tired, defeated smile. You don't want to fight. You never wanted to. "What does it look like to you, Ivar? Do you really think I'm trying to sneak out? Of course, I'm not."

"Rumors are false, that's what you're saying?" He snorts and, taking two more steps into the room, he joins you. "What's that, then?" He gestures angrily toward a wooden trunk, filled to the brim with your belongings, mostly dresses and a few jewels.

"I'm leaving, if that's what rumors say, Ivar, I'm just not sneaking out." You speak softly while closing the trunk.

A wide-eyed look on his face, he can't hide his surprise at your easy admission but he quickly pulls himself together, straightening up and towering over you.

"You can't. I forbid you." Giving you an intimidating look, he grits his teeth.

You barely shake your head. There's so much sadness in your heart. "Of course, I can. I'm not asking for permission, you know? I'm leaving, whether you like it or not."

That's when he explodes, his bottom lip quivering. "I SAID, I FORBID YOU! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, Y/N! I. AM. YOUR. KING!"

His scream is so loud that you can't help but take a step back. But you don't lower your gaze. You won't. You can't. So, keeping your chin up, you inhale slowly. "And I'm still a free woman, Ivar. I'm leaving today."

You know the man you once loved is not going to make that so easy for you. So, you're not surprised when he grabs your wrist so firmly you can't shake him off. Tossing his crutch on the floor, he places his now free hand on your shoulder. Looking at him, you can tell you've rarely seen him this angry. Never releasing the pressure on your wrist, he throws you against the nearest wall so hard that the back of your skull makes a resounding "clunk".

He leans in close to you, his breath stinking faintly of honeyed mead, and presses the weight of his body against you. "You're not leaving, Y/N." He then moves his hand from your shoulder to your throat and the air is immediately stolen from you as you stare into his now darkened eyes. With your right hand still pinned to the wall, you only have your left to defend yourself. You're slapping him, clawing at him, but you may as well be tickling him with a feather – your scratches and punches have no effect on him whatsoever.

"I could kill you, Y/N. Maybe I should." The threat is clear, obvious, but Ivar loosens his grip just enough for you to breathe. He won't harm you. Not yet anyway.

Clearing your throat, you don't look away. "Maybe you should. It wouldn't be the worst thing for me, you know? One way or another, I wouldn't be here anymore."

Your words sting, you can see it on his face as he steps away, wobbling and dumbstruck.

Slowly leaning forward, you grab his discarded crutch before giving it back to him. "Here." You mutter before taking a seat on the bed. Ivar follows suit, flopping down next to you.

Blinking several times, Ivar is obviously trying to come to terms with what you just said. "So, you'd rather be dead than here? With me?" His voice is shaking and he fidgets with his fingers on his lap.

"Ivar, there's nothing left here for me… Nothing… We just don't understand each other anymore, you know that. I don't understand you anymore, Ivar. Since Wessex, you've changed so much…"

You've tried. You've tried very hard. But this man, this king, is no longer the man you fell in love with.

"It's about Sigurd, isn't it?" Ivar asks sadly, but you immediately shake your head.

"No Ivar, you know it's not. I told you, even though I wish you hadn't killed him, I understand why you did it. And I know you didn't want to."

"It's about my legs, then." His face suddenly hardens but you know him, he always hides his pain behind anger. "I knew it. I knew this day would come. You're tired of the cripple, admit it."

Without thinking, you grab his hand, entwining his fingers with yours. As much as you resent him for what he has become, you can't let him run himself down like this. " It has nothing to do with your legs. Your legs have never bothered me, and they never will. You're stronger than all other men, not in spite of your legs, but because of them. Actually, you're the strongest man I know, and I've always felt proud to walk beside you, or to be your woman. I forbid you to doubt it."

"Why, then?" Ivar is so soft now, seems to be so… broken, you have to remind yourself why you're leaving. You have to remind yourself of the horror.

Closing your eyes, you conjure up frightful images behind your eyelids.

"You killed Margrethe, Ivar. You didn't have to do that."

He tenses beside you, releasing his hand from your grip. "She was talking rubbish all the time, she was spreading rumors about me, you know that!!"

"She was insane, Ivar! She was no danger, neither to you nor to anyone. And as for the rumors, I'm loud enough for people to know that you can pleasure a woman. She was harmless, and you killed her, and that, Ivar, I can't understand. And then, you did worse. You killed Thora." You can't help but wince, the stench of burning flesh still so vivid in your mind, you'd swear it's real.

Fuming, Ivar points an accusing finger at you. "She defaced my image. She was plotting behind my back. She was conspiring, criticizing me. She saw me as a tyrant while I was just trying to rule well. She was a FUCKING DANGER!"

Startled by his shout, you stand up hastily. "You burned her alive, Ivar!! You burned her entire family. Asbjorn, her brother, had not yet seen his tenth spring. And you killed him!" You know he can see the disgust on your face, and the truth is, you don't care. He deserves your disgust. He deserves your contempt. He deserves you falling out of love with him. "Thora was your brother's lover and she was my friend and you burned her alive!!! How could you?" Your hands tangled in your hair, you shake your head, still barely able to process the horror of what he did.

"And what was I supposed to do, huh?" Ivar seems unshaken, and it strengthens your resolve. He doesn't know between good and evil, not anymore. You want to reply that he could have exiled her, or had her thrown in jail, but to what end? What's done is done, and your former lover is a monster now.

"It doesn't matter, Ivar… What matters is that you're like a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore. Since this girl, you've changed." You shrug, blinking back tears.

Ivar rolls his eyes. "So that's what it was all about? I can't believe you're jealous, Y/N. This girl… It's just a... thrall"

Oh gods! There's none so deaf as those that will not hear, right?

"I'm not jealous, Ivar. She was naked on your lap, but I'm not jealous. Or maybe I was, but it doesn't matter anymore. And I don't give a damn about what or who she is. But she was whispering nonsense in your ear, and since then you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore. You're no longer the man I loved, Ivar..." Your words are genuine, your heart full of sorrow.

Still sitting on the bed, Ivar tilts his head. "You... You can't leave me, Y/N. What... What will I do without you?" His quivering voice sends shivers down your spine. But you won't change your mind. This man in front of you, unsure and insecure, is nothing but a ghost of who he once was. The boy you loved is gone. Dead. Killed by his inner demons.

Swallowing, Ivar slowly stands up, and frowns when you step back. "Y/N," he speaks again, reaching out but to no avail as you stubbornly put your hands on your back, "you're the person I don't need to explain myself to – not when it matters. You see everything I am and you don't run away from it. I... I can't do without you."

Your eyes filling with tears, you shake your head. "I can't be this person anymore, Ivar. I've tried, but I can't. I don't know you at all anymore. You've become the monster that people thought you were. You're paranoid, and narcissistic, and self-centered. You're cruel, and mean, and fearsome. I won't lie, sometimes I still see a shadow of the man – the boy – you used to be. But most of the time, what I see in your eyes is something scary and unfamiliar. I have said it before and I will say it again. I don't recognize you anymore, Ivar. I don't know who you are. You've done terrible things, which I cannot and will not forget and forgive. That's why I'm leaving." Pointing to the trunk, you bite the inside of cheek until it bleeds. "I'll send someone to get it later."

Heading out, you don't wait for his answer. There's nothing he can say that is going to change your mind.

Yet, you stop in your tracks when he calls your name, "Y/N!" his voice sounding like a wounded animal. Slowly turning around, you can see a single tear running down his face. "Please..." He begs and it kills you, because Ivar the Boneless doesn’t beg; never begs. For a fleeting moment, your resolve falters. Maybe you can still save your love. Maybe you can bring back the man he was. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe...

And then, a shadow slips between the heavy doors of the great hall and you recognize the thrall. She's undoubtedly beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Flawless.

Without even according you a glance, she walks with a confident stride and as soon as Ivar sees her, you can tell you cease to exist for him. Enthralled, he watches her every step, a sparkle dancing in his eyes.

Tears flow on your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. You were right.

This is the end.

It's like torture but you can't bring yourself to walk away. So, you watch. You see Ivar closing the gap between them, inviting her to sit down, pouring mead into a cup and handing it to her. "How are you? I've been thinking about you." You feel like you're going to throw up as you see the smile on his lips; as you realize how easily he forgot about you.

His next question nearly kills you. "Are you married?"

You can't believe your ears. You can't stay here anymore. You can't breathe.

You don't want to hear her answer. You know what she will say. And at this moment, deep down inside, you know he will marry her. Of course, he will. He will marry her because she will always be willing to whisper in his ear what he wants to hear.

A blond woman, attractive and seemingly submissive – you know better, but Ivar doesn't –swaying her hips... That's all it takes for Ivar to forget you.

You. Can't. Breathe.

You won't die here from a shattered heart, though. Your pride won't allow it. So, stumbling, your head spinning, you walk away, your fist in your mouth to keep you from screaming.

You were right. There's nothing left.

Nothing.

🛡⚔️🛡

@geekandbooknerd @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace

[moonbaby26]

Title: Growing Love

Pairing: Loki x Goddess!Reader

Summary: Story set nearer the Viking Age. You were a Greek sea goddess who crossed paths with the god of mischief. Continuation of previous chapter. Loki returns to Asgard and is confronted by his mother Frigga and her accurate suspicions on his newfound interest in Midgard. While you witness the completion of the building erected for you and Loki by the villagers, followed by his return back to you in the night.

Warnings: None this chapter. Just fluff! First Loki and his mental sparring with Frigga who loves him, and then some well deserved cuddling with you who is also starting to.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @rosaline-black , @lawfeys , @loveableasshole , @insanitybyanothername , @just-wordsandthoughts , @cringingmemeries

My Masterlist

——————————

A few days ago, Asgard

Loki emerged from the light, now back home before the bifrost immediately closed once more. The smug smile remained on his face as your last question still played through his mind. He knew that nickname he’d given you wouldn’t be something you’d let go of anytime soon. In fact, he counted on it. Something to distract and occupy you for the coming weeks until he could return.

It may be selfish of course. But if you were becoming stuck in his mind this often, he had to make sure he wasn’t the only one now having to suffer. Though there was something rewarding about getting to hide you away still. Even if he knew the arrangement in the village would come to light eventually, potentially making these trips to your realm far more problematic.

The sooner he could find an alternate route to Midgard to bypass the bifrost and Heimdall entirely, the better. He could not allow all his future ability to see you to become solely dependent on Odin’s whims.

Whatever the Allfather would think of these risks now being taken though, Loki truly did not care. But historically, whatever he’d most desired always ended up taken away from him in one way or another. Or even worse, absorbed into the limitless well of good fortune that seemed to follow Thor like a miasma. So he had to prepare for that, plan for it really.

Of course, you didn’t seem the type to fall apart so easily over just some long blonde hair and an oversized set of muscles. But Loki had lost count ages ago of how many times he’d still ended up with the short end of the stick whenever his brother had entered any situation. Parading you before Thor wan’t something he was willing to chance just yet either.

No, he had to consider both his father and brother now as threats to these new emotions he was still trying to define. It likely shouldn’t be so, but somehow it always was. They always got in his way.

And as Loki now strode forward, his appearance only shifted to that of a standard royal guard, wishing for a more discreet entrance back into the palace after so many hours away. He had let the adorations of those mortals delay him far more than expected.

But the feel of sitting at the head of that mead hall with you at his side had hit him in such a strange way as well. A fleeting taste which had caused him to linger even further there as he’d fantasized about sitting similarly content on Asgard’s throne one day.

That dream of seizing his birthright was nothing new of course, yet the difference was now the addition of you in that mental image. He wanted you there so suddenly, with loyalty and pride radiating from you for all the court to see. He needed you to want to be his, to be willing to do whatever necessary to defy Asgard’s enemies in his name.

And even now, those thoughts brought a flare of desire that he could not act on. Frustrating as it was, he knew he had to maintain some semblance of patience. Heimdall’s silent stare of judgement didn’t even rile him to speaking either as the still disguised Loki passed silently by the gatekeeper.

He was bold enough to change appearance right in front of Heimdall, yes. But he also knew that until he crossed the line of actually doing something which broke Asgardian law, Heimdall would still keep what he had seen to himself. Travel to Midgard was not yet forbidden after all.

But Heimdall’s current courtesy of silence would only go so far as to delay the inevitable. The clock was still ticking on this secret and Loki knew it.

And unlike Midgard that had still been fully night, dawn was now just breaking in Asgard as Loki made his way back into the palace. The sparse guards he did encounter, he only gave little mocking salutes to. Still in the guise of one of them as he’d mimicked their own protocols before he’d turned the corner into the next corridor and ended up at the massive doors to his own living quarters.

So close to being able to hide himself back away for a few moments before the palace fully awakened, he had just placed his palms on the ornate, golden door handles when a sudden sound made him still completely.

“Good morning, son.” The placid voice called to him from nothing as his mother Frigga only materialized directly behind him.

And there was just that smallest moment of fear inside him. Just the length of a heartbeat before he’d turned smoothly to face her, his own magic dissolving to remove his disguise as excuses bubbled readily to his mind.

Of course he was still in the same armor from all those hours before, the muck of that mortal village even still marring the soles of his boots as he offered her an easy smile. “Well...how long have you been waiting here, Mother?”

Yet she responded just as simply, a gentle look in her eyes. “Not long at all really. I suppose I have good timing.”

But he was still searching, examining her body language for any hint of her actual intention. How much did she know? “I suppose that you do. Have Father and dear brother yet returned triumphant from Alfheim then?” No, he doubted that. The halls would not be near as peaceful if so.

“No. They have not.” She only answered. “...But that is exactly why I thought you may wish to speak to me now while whatever we discuss can still be kept relatively private.”

And there it was. He felt that slight bit of tension in his chest as he weighed his options in quick succession. The foundation with you still wasn’t fully laid, he needed more time to secure things. Even though he trusted Frigga, she and the Allfather went hand in hand in the end. She would not lie to her husband if pressed.

And Odin may forbid this odd new relationship outright, fearing some insult to Poseidon no doubt. If that foreign, Olympian king fully knew that the Asgardian god of mischief was now digging his claws greedily into his youngest daughter without permission, it could easily become a full blown scandal.

Loki hadn’t even bothered to investigate if you were betrothed to anyone in your own kingdom or not either. He did not care. He was a prince and would take whatever he wanted.

Though he knew it better to reveal nothing of you to his own family just yet, he also knew that if he offered Frigga too little in return, she would only step up her efforts to investigate on her own. Motherly concern and all, endearing at times, highly troublesome at others. He’d let her feel as if she had pried a little out of him at least as he played along. “And what is it that we should need to discuss so privately, Mother?” Loki asked calmly at last.

Yet she only smiled, surprising him a little still as she took his arm. “Come. Walk with me. You needn’t play such games. A mother knows when her son is enamored.”

He scoffed, though still letting himself be led as they did begin to walk. The halls were still empty enough this early in the morning for their words to not be easily overheard. “Is that what you think this all about? I think you’re confusing me with that manchild of yours for once.”

“Loki,” Frigga only chided. “It is not weakness to admit such feelings. And yes, for your brother that is an all too frequent cycle. He is not yet mature enough for his relationships to be anything but passing frivolity. But you are different. Which is why it becomes all the more noticeable when it finally does happen. Do not waste breath to deny it.”

He raised his eyebrows, never missing when she did offer even the slightest criticism of Thor. But he was still quick to downplay her insinuation about your importance. “Yet you act as if it has never happened for me before. Just because I’ve been more focused on honing my sorcery skills the last several years, it doesn’t mean I haven’t had my share of frivolity as you call it, Mother.”

But Frigga just gave him a disapproving look then. “Do not be crude just to try and shorten this conversation. There is a clear difference between solely that kind of physical interaction you speak of, and this distraction that has now carried you back to Midgard more than three times now. And you know the significance of the number three in so many of the rituals and rights I have taught you, it-”

“No.” He cut in abruptly. That was the line. If she was trying to say this was already something now beyond his control, something fated, he fully rejected that notion. “I don’t follow the predetermined, Mother. And you know I never want to hear whatever future you’ve seen for me. I will make my own.”

But the queen of Asgard was not one to back down either, responding just as strongly, “And all a witch can see is the possible outcomes, not the one that will truly be. I would never curse you with the burden of such knowledge, even if I were sure. But don’t patronize me to act as if nothing has changed for you. I came here to offer you my help, Loki. If you ever wish to make whoever you have chosen legitimate in the Allfather’s eyes, to actually bring them here one day, you will not be able to do it alone. I hope you understand that.”

“Mother...” He couldn’t help but pause to look in her eyes again, as unexpected as that offer really was. Yet he so quickly grabbed onto the possible other meaning as well in her concern. “You say ‘legitimate’ almost as if I was considered the true heir again. After all, who the future king of Asgard could court would be awfully more important than whoever just a prince would choose, correct? Of course, I suppose a marriage that one day joined Asgard and Midgard would also be significantly more impressive politically than say Thor and Sif, or whoever the Hel he’s galavanting around with these nights...”

She gave him a little hit on the arm at that. Of course he knew she hated whenever he mocked whoever his brother’s current fancy was. But she still just continued. “What should be important to you is finding the person that makes you happy, regardless of their own station. That is the future I want for both my sons. Whichever of you should one day hold the throne.”

Of course she still refused to admit Father’s favoritism that Loki saw all too well. He straightened up a little, that real sincerity in him burning through then. “But it will be me, Mother. I will prove myself worthy to Father, worthy of the throne. One way or another.”

And he hated that sympathetic look in her eyes, even though the real warmth was still there as she answered. “And I still say you’ll be far happier when you focus on yourself rather than chasing the Allfather’s approval. He already loves you both, just as I do.”

That was all he could handle for now, as he took her hand gently, bowing to her slightly before he kissed it. “No, he does not love as unequivocally as you do, Mother. But I do thank you for that. I will consider your offer. Yet I think it is still too early just yet.”

And as he straightened back up, he could see she at least accepted this. She would not dig any further into his visits to Midgard just yet. But he’d only bought additional time for just so long he was sure.“I’m going back to my quarters for a brief rest now.” He told her. “But if you need me any further today, you will find me in the throne room. Where I belong.”

Until Odin and Thor returned from Alfheim, this would be his privilege. His days would be spent hearing any grievances of the kingdom, presiding over council meetings, casting decisions on any changes to security measures, and standing as the head of all the remaining soldiers here for Asgard’s defense.

But at night...at night he’d return to his chambers. And laying there alone, surely that would be when he’d pass the remaining time awake thinking of you. Thinking and hoping that those mortals would hurry up and complete that room and bed for you both.

Whatever they built would still not be to his standards he was sure. But until you could truly lay in his own bed beneath him in Asgard, he would have to accept the compromise of a little hovel of a den for you both in Midgard.

—————————-

Midgard, several weeks later

The days passed so slowly for you. You now divided your time between your normal duties monitoring the oceans, and taking that form of the osprey, flying to visit the little village in the north that Loki had claimed for you both.

Never before had you spent so much time around mortals to be honest. And at first you’d still taken every possible measure to remain hidden from their sight. But eventually, that effort grew too tiresome.

After a while, you didn’t stay so high in the trees any longer. Yourself curious to be true, and watching as step by step they’d raised the timbers to begin building that structure Loki had requested.

You still stayed just out of their reach surely, but you didn’t fly away anymore when you saw them take notice of you. They’d even greet you quite frequently now, just calling you that nickname Loki had given you which they thought your real name. Kærr.

Especially the children. Whenever they moved out into the forest to play or gather freshwater from the nearby stream you’d also now discovered, they always giggled and called to you as they ran along beneath.

You’d even noticed that they gradually seemed to stray farther and farther from the village than they had in the beginning. As if your presence alone gave them confidence of their safety. It was such an odd sense of responsibility. One you weren’t quite sure you were ready for just yet.

The days were growing shorter too, the nights far colder by the time they finally finished that building. And as Loki had suggested, it was still quite small. Like a one room cabin really. Though they’d made quite a show of asking for your approval on it, you didn’t know what you were supposed to really do. They seemed to take your silence as a positive at least before they’d left again saying you could now summon your “master” and they would leave him to his privacy in the new dwelling.

You’d still waited until it was late at night though, knowing most the mortals would now be sleeping before you’d finally landed, changing back to the form of a woman as you’d walked to take a closer look at the building in the dim moonlight.

They’d built this also far enough from the village, here in the deeper woods that they could not stumble accidentally back upon it unless they really meant to. So you weren’t afraid of being seen as you’d walked the perimeter curiously.

It seemed sturdy enough. Quaint, but somehow inviting. And as you moved back towards the door, you realized they’d also listened to Loki’s criticism on their village’s carvings needing to be changed to reflect their new protector.

You couldn’t help but smile as you recognized well that likeness as you now ran your fingers across the rises and falls carved into the wood. The cape, the outlines of armor, the horned helmet...

But the real surprise was his pose, one arm bent, raised near level with his chest. And there perched upon that arm, was a bird of prey. You. Looking far more regal than you ever really had right to be you were sure.

There was a mix of mild embarrassment and a strange amusement that rose in you as you took the whole image in. It was quite possibly the only likeness anyone had ever made for you in the mortal realm. And paired with Loki no less.

Eros’ words carried on your heart still as you finally opened the door to venture inside. You knew Eros couldn’t be wrong, not on this subject. But it didn’t seem like it should be true either. How could you be falling in love when you didn’t even know the real meaning of the word? When you’d only had such fleeting meetings with this man?

The little bit of moonlight barely penetrated the inside of the dwelling and you just left the door open to not fully smother the light as you walked in onto the rough wooden floors. Though they’d laid down some rugs as well as your feet found them.

The furniture was sparse and simple, though maybe still the best of what they had to be truthful. A couple chairs, a small table, a chest for belongings, and of course a bed.

There were candles, but you had nothing to light them with as you now sat down on the empty bed. It was certainly a far cry from the large and extravagant bedding in your father’s palace.

But for someone who could just as easily sleep to the rocking of the waves or the silence of the deeper depths, a makeshift mattress stuffed with wool, moss, or who really knew what, really wasn’t a problem.

It was so quiet too. You laid down on your back, just to get the feeling of it as you stared up at the beams which arched into the ceiling. It reminded you most of the beams inside the hull of a ship, which was likely little coincidence. The ancestors of these people were all seafarers.

Idly, you wondered too if Loki had ever been to sea. You knew from those books you’d read that Asgard had waters of its own. But did he feel comfortable on the water? Did he ever sail? Did he swim? And maybe more importantly, would he ever swim with you?

You closed your eyes, thinking what it could be like to show him things he’d never seen before. Would he feel as good under the water as he did above it? Would he ever visit your own kingdom?

Of his own family, all you really knew was the tension and seeming competition between he and his brother. Would any of your own siblings be impressed by him though? Surprised surely. You’d never brought anyone to the palace before. Maybe one day...

————————————

You thought you were only dreaming. Because it wasn’t as if it hadn’t happened before. Especially in the long stretches between seeing one another. That scent of him, the feel of his cool skin against your own, albeit only making you feel heated as you breathed in deeper.

It wasn’t until you felt that lightest kiss on the back of your neck that your eyes fluttered open. Laying on your side on the bed, as your vision focused you noticed the door to the cabin was now closed. That and a single candle newly lit, flickering dimly on the small table just a few feet away.

You’d fallen asleep at some point. For how long was unclear. But you were absolutely no longer alone.

“Hello, Kærr.” Loki’s voice came in an almost taunting whisper, using that nickname again.

You were startled, but you didn’t hesitate, rolling over immediately to then be face to face with him in the shifting candlelight.

The glint of his teeth met you as he smiled in amusement. But whatever harsh words you may have thought he still deserved, they didn’t come as you’d also noticed his bare chest now nearly against you.

You had to glance down to realize he wasn’t nude however. But dressed solely in a dark pair of pants as he laid so closely beside you.

“You left the door open you know. I took it as an invitation.” He added, one hand now tracing idly down the side of your dress.

“How long have you been here?” You finally asked, but tellingly not pulling away at all as you let the small touches continue.

“Long enough to realize you’ll have me putting protection spells all around these walls if this is how deeply you really sleep, goddess. Imagine if I’d wanted to do more than kiss that pretty throat.”

You stared a moment. And yes, maybe you should have been embarrassed to be caught so defenseless. But in reality, what real enemies had you ever had? You didn’t live always keeping one eye over your shoulder. Yet...was he implying he would choose to protect you if it ever came to that?

You only shifted closer to him at those words rather than retort though, boldly laying your head against his chest then as you scooted down a little in the bed. You liked the way he tensed slightly too, seeming surprised before he just pulled the bed’s quilt up around you both.

The secure feeling as his arm tightened around you beneath the blanket was also very new. Both of you quiet until it was you who next broke the silence. “Will you stay tonight then?” You could have asked how he’d known you were here, how many times he’d been checking on you via Heimdall, but it really didn’t matter.

All you actually cared about in this moment was how long until you’d have to say goodbye to him again.

His tone seemed unusual, caught off guard still perhaps. But he answered simply. “If it’s what you want. Yes.”

Which likely meant that his father and brother had finally returned to Asgard you thought. But you didn’t want to talk about anyone else right now. This time was now just for the two of you.

“It is what I want.” You confirmed, though not looking up at him in the bed. But with your head still against his chest, you could just hear his own heartbeat. And you didn’t think it was only in your imagination that it quickened at those simple words.

But it was true. You may not understand or be able to express more than this right now. You didn’t know how to talk about love or deeper need. Yet you could be honest to say you wanted him to stay. You wanted him beside you for as long as he could be.

And he just held onto you, staying pressed together as if it should always be this way. But it had to mean something to him too you hoped. Because Loki didn’t seem at all the type of god to do anything if it didn’t fulfill some sort of need for himself as well.

No, you didn’t think he would stay just because you’d asked, unless he’d already wanted to. But you wouldn’t question it out loud, not now as you closed your eyes again.

It likely didn’t take you very long to fall back asleep either to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat beneath your head. Yet even as you did you could also feel the rise and fall of his chest steadying out as his breathing relaxed in tandem.

If he did stay awake to watch you, it only would have been just barely as the two of you remained curled into one another beneath that blanket. He’d asked you once before, though under more lustful circumstances, if you could get used to being with him. You’d answered yes then, wanting the chance surely, but had he meant it in this way too when he’d asked?

Eros had given you the advice to see this through. He said it was the only way to know if your growing love might ever actually be returned by this god. And that was exactly what you were now going to do.

—————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

[dcbutinamrev]

Disgust

10) “Please, for the love of god, do not explain any of what I’m seeing.”

19) “I don’t even want to know.”

One of the aides walking in on hamilton and laurens being too gay for whats socially acceptable

HAHA! YES!

And of course, it's gotta be Tench and Meade who walks in on them as they're my favorite aides.

***

It's currently around ten in the evening when Richard Kidder Meade finally calls it a night. He huffs out a yawn and rubs the heaviness he feels in his eyes, groaning as he does so. He stands from his wooden chair, grabbing his stack of corrospondences that have scattered around him, shuffling them into a neat stack.

Meade glances up once he places the now neat stack at the head of the table for the morning's dispatch and glances around his surroundings. The room is dim, only lit by a candle or two. The table in front of him nearly empty as the majority of the rest of the aides had already gone to bed. First it was His Excellency General Washington and Lady Washington, followed by the Marquis de Lafayette and hour or so later and then Harrison followed by Fitzgerald retreating to his bedroom after fixing himself some evening tea, and then an hour or two after Hamilton and Laurens.

Meade's exhausted expression softens into that of a fond one when he sees his dear friend Tench Tilghman asleep on the table. His cheek resting against his folded forearms as a couple pieces of parchment sticks to his golden-brown hair. His back rising up and down slowly each breath he takes. He chuckles to himself, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head and Meade finds himself walking towards his old friend.

Meade now stands behind Tilghman, watching him sleep at the table. He blows out one of the candles nearby Tilghman before shrugging his coat off and draping it over Tilghman's shoulders as a blanket. Meade hums with a warm smile on his face as he rests both hands on Tilghman's shoulders and leans down close to his ear and whispers, "Sleep well, my friend."

Tilghman snorts in response and shifts as he stirrs which causes Meade to still, his dark brown eyes widening as he presses his lips together firmly. Meade huffs out a breath of relief when he sees Tilghman finally relaxing back into a peaceful slumber. He pats his shoulder once before grabbing the one candle as a lantern almost and makes his way up the stairs, letting a yawn escape despite how much he tries to stifle it with the back of his hand.

As Meade reaches halfway up the stairs, he pauses, his hand tightening on the rail as he sees a small sliver of light under his fellow aides-de-camp Lieutenant Colonels Alexander Hamilton's and John Laurens's shared bedroom. He tilts his head, furrowing his brows together with curiosity. He knows the two are close friends, he knows they have a special bond, he knows the two share a room together here at their current winter headquarters in Valley Forge. But they should be asleep by now, as the rest are. Unless...

Curious, Meade presses his lips together and conitnues climbing up the stairs. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he stops when he hears faint whispers coming from beside Hamilton and Laurens's room. He waits a moment to see if there's any clear distinction of words and frowns deeper when he hears none. He takes a step forward towards the door, candle holder tight in his hands. He skids to a stop when he hears Hamilton suddenly cry out, "Oh God!"

Meade stands frozen in the middle of the hallway, his shoulders tense and his eyes wide, his face slowly becoming white as the snow surrounding their headquarters. Meade waits a couple of moments after that sudden scream before finally having the courage to take a more steps towards the door.

He freezes again, inhaling sharply as he holds his breath when he hears Hamilton shriek, "Oh, Jack! Yes!"

He glances under the door, trying to see if he can see movement. But he only hears a thump instead and Laurens's husky voice coming from the other side, whispering, "Hush now, my dear boy." Meade grimaces when he hears Hamilton giggle and Laurens laugh darkly before silencing Hamilton with...

Meade shivers at the thought.

Meade's jaw slacks with disbelief as he continues eavesdropping on the two. He knows the two close, yes. But never realized just how close they actually are...

Meade swallows as he finally gathers his courage and continues walking towards his destination, his arm shaking slightly. He blows out the candle before pressing his ear against the wooden door, bracing himself.

"Oh, Jack...please..." Hamilton whimpers behind the closed door. "I've missed you. I haven't seen my handsome soldier all the day."

"Hmm, I know. But duty first, my love," Laurens replies.

Meade grimaces as he listens to the creak of the bed and the soft giggles and the ruffle of bedsheets. Feeling bold, Meade grips the doorknob and slowly twists it, careful not to make a sound and inahling sharply through his nose and keeping his breath in place, he places one hand on the door and pushes it gently open.

Meade pokes his head through the small sliver, curiosity getting the best of him. Which is a mistake.

Before his own eyes, Meade sees Laurens hovering over Hamilton on the bed, both of them completely bare and exposed, their uniforms crumpled on the ground beside the bed. He sees the brightness of Hamilton's red sprawling out about the pillows like a sea of red, his legs stretched out before Laurens, his arms hooked over Laurens's neck, tracing his jaw. Laurens grins devilishly, his hands gripped firmly on Hamilton's hips as he shifts backwards and forwards.

"Kidder?" a voice behind him asks softly.

Meade yelps and spins around on his heel sharply, slamming the door shut, making the bang sound like a pop. Meade freezes when he hears the rustling in the bed stop suddenly, Hamilton whimpering softly, fear in his voice, "John? Did you hear that?"

Meade turns around to face Tilghman before him with an exhausted look, a heel of his palm pressed against his brow and his other eyebrow raised. Tilghman goes to open his mouth again but Meade rushes forward and clamps his hand over his friend's mouth before shoving him against the wall, pressing his own finger to his lips in a shushing gesturing, easing Tilghman's frightened and confused expression.

Tilghman frowns behind Meade's hand, furrowing his brows as he watches Meade gestures with his head, his finger still pressed against his lips and his eyes wide still, towards the door beside them.

Tilghman's eyes widen after a few moments with shock and Meade nods with confirmation as he lowers his hand. Tilghman glances back and forth between the door and Meade, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, jaw slacked slightly.

Meade huffs out a breath and puts his hands in a prayer position and gives Tilghman a pleading look and whimpers, "Please, for the love of god, do not make me explain any of what I am seeing..."

Tilghman clamps his mouth shut as he glances between the door and Meade once more and swallows, his eyes finally lingering on the door. He shakes his head. "I don't even want to know."

Just as the words escape Tilghman's mouth, however, the door to Laurens and Hamilton's shared bedroom swings open. The two men not just a few feet away stiffen when they both see Laurens standing out as he adjusts his cravat, fully dressed in his unifrom once more, glances back and forth down the hallway until his tense sky-blue eyes land on Meade and Tilghman. He hisses sharply and stands incredibly still, shoulders up to his ears, his shoulders sqaured and jaw clenched as he clasps both arms behind his back as if he's reporting to General Washington.

Laurens clears his throat once the door clicks shut. "May I help you two gentlemen?"

Meade and Tilghman glances at each other, both of them swallowing nervously before they both shake their heads. Neither of them saying a word.

"Then if you'd excuse me," Laurens continues, his voice leveled and teeth obviously clenched. "Colonel Hamilton and I have some corrospondences yet to have finish before actually retiring for the night. And we'd like to not be disturbed."

Silence.

"Now if you please," Laurens says.

WIth one cold look, Meade and Tilghman nod jerkily before bolting down the hallway towards their own bedroom, mumbling apologies every now and then as they rush past Laurens. Laurens huffs as he shakes his head, watching the two run the corner towards their rooms before entering his own.

Hamilton sits up against the pillows once Laurens enters, his red hair flowing around him over his right shoulder, a few curls resting on his forehead and over his left ear. He smirks slightly as he bring his knees up to his chest, flipping a page of a book as he watches Laurens trudge around the foot of the bed towards his side before flopping face down onto the pillows beside Hamilton and groans.

Hamilton sits up against the pillows once Laurens enters, his red hair flowing around him over his right shoulder, a few curls resting on his forehead and over his left ear. He smirks slightly as he bring his knees up to his chest, flipping a page of a book as he watches Laurens trudge around the foot of the bed towards his side before flopping face down onto the pillows beside Hamilton and groans.

Hamilton says as he places the book on the nightstand and shifts so he's resting on his side to face Laurens, his freckled cheek in his hand, elbow digging into the pillow and knees curled up to his chest, one leg hooking around Laurens's arm as he combes back a few wisps of honey blonde hair behind Laurens's ear.

"What's the matter, my darling?" Hamilton coos, pressing a kiss to Laurens's forehead.

His face still smashed into the pillow and his voice muffled into the pillow, Laurens grumbles, "Why is it whenever I'm having fun, it's wrong?"

Hamilton couldn't help giggle and roll his eyes, shaking his head fondly. "Oh, my dear..."

Sometimes he wonders how he found himself such a man as Laurens.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Broken Down (Pt.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down on the side of the highway, you’re picked up by a kind couple who apparently have a thing for picking up hitchhikers, judging by the boy in the back seat. What started as a ride turns into a horror story. 

Warnings: NONCON ELEMENTS (it’s Carl and Sandy and if you are reading this, you’re damn well aware of what they do - no full on rape though! Just noncon touching), murder/ serial killers, being held at gun point, description of blood and violence, typical Carl and Sandy stuff

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: There are parts of this that are from the movie directly and I do not claim to own those parts. All other original parts are mine though!

Part 2 out now!

____________________________________

It was no secret that Sandy was unhappy with her life with Carl anymore. She wasn't quiet about it- not even to him. Any logical person would think that she'd be scared to tell her serial killer partner that she was tired of killing people but she wasn't sure if she cared about the outcome anymore. She already felt dead inside. 

"Carl, I'm done." 

"C'mon, Sandy. It's not that bad." Carl tried to convince his partner, looking over at her from behind the wheel. 

Sandy scoffed sadly, "I don't like when they cry." 

"But they take the best pictures," Carl responded insensitively. They drove on in silence for a while down the highway, ever consciously looking for their next victim. "You know what? How about we try something new, huh? We can try to make this next one a little more interesting." 

Sandy rolled her eyes and stared out at the landscape as it blurred past on their trek along the highway. That wasn’t what she meant and Carl knew it. She didn’t want to make things more interesting. She wanted out. She knew it was no use arguing, though. Carl always got his way. 

**

You stood at the edge of the road, thumb extended as the occasional car passed by, to no avail. Your car sat dead in the turn out behind you. Your duffel bag was laid down on the ground by your feet, your dark blue floral skirt blowing against the material when the breeze blew. Of all the roads to break down on, it just had to be the one in the middle of nowhere Ohio - West Virginia border where almost no cars drove past. It was beginning to get dark and your nerves were starting to fray at the thought of being stuck in the woods alone at night. 

Finally, a car drove up to you and you waved your hands to get their attention, put on your nicest smile, and stuck your thumb out. The vehicle slowed to a halt beside you and you saw three people in there, a woman driving, a man rolling his window down to talk to you, and a young man in the backseat. "What's a sweet girl like you doing out here stuck on the side of the road?" The man questioned with a smile. 

"My car broke down and I just need to get into town to call a mechanic." You gestured back to your old yellow Ford that had started acting up a little ways back. When you pulled over to take a look at it, it just wouldn't start up again. 

He looked over at the pretty blonde lady driving, giving her a look you couldn't see but she returned one that you couldn't quite read. The man turned back to you with a smile, “Well we’re dropping this fella off in Meade but I’m sure we could drop you in the next closest town. Shouldn’t be too far if you’d like a ride.” 

A smile spread across your face, “Thank you so much.” You picked up your duffel bag and hustled over to the side of the car that was bordering the road, sliding into the seat when you threw the door open. 

“What a good day for makin’ new friends, huh, honey?” The man said chipperly before turning around to look at the two of you in the back seat. “What were your names?” 

“Y/N.” You answered warmly, glancing over at the boy beside you who sat stiffly, his jaw clenched tightly. You’d assumed he was with the couple but it seemed you may have been wrong. 

He swallowed after a brief pause, his eyes widening in fear for a moment, “Arvin, sir.” 

“Well, Arvin and Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you two. I’m Carl and this is my wife Sandy.” He patted Sandy on the shoulder and she gave him a small forced smile. Trouble in paradise, you thought. “Where you from Y/N?” 

Your hands laid prim and proper in your lap, holding your skirt down from the breeze from Carl’s rolled down window, “Just a small town not too far from here actually. Barren Springs? Not many people have heard of it.” 

“Can’t say I have,” Carl shook his head. 

Arvin chimed in for the first time since you’d gotten in the car, “I've been through there for work before.” 

“Yeah? You live nearby?” You asked, looking over at him. A blush heated your cheeks at the site of the handsome young man. His curly brown locks were messily pressed down against his head from the baseball cap that he had curled up in his lap. 

Arvin just nodded a little when he made eye contact, “Coal Creek.” He swallowed hard, before his eyes darted away from yours and bounced off every moving object he could see.

“Oh, nice! I’ve only ever driven through it on the way to my grandparent’s house but it’s a cute little town.” You chipped, waiting for a response from Arvin but he only gave you a curt nod and fidgeted his hands along his legs. A thick silence settled over the car for a moment and you cast your gaze away from the attractive boy down to the mechanism that allowed the driver’s seat to adjust on the ground of the car, suddenly feeling like you overstepped with Arvin with your seemingly innocent comment. 

“Looks like you’re set for a trip. You leaving or coming home?” Sandy asked, looking at you through the rear view mirror. 

“Comin’ home,” You responded, replacing that polite smile and slightly higher voice you did when speaking to strangers, “A friend of mine from high school moved to Blacksburg with her sweetheart. I just went out there for their wedding.” You smiled at the memory of their ceremony. It was one of those marriages that you just knew was meant to be. 

“Awe, I just love weddings.” She said dreamily, gazing nostalgically out across the road. 

You smiled and made a small noise of agreement. At the thought of weddings, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to the idea of marrying the man sitting beside you. It was silly, you knew, fantasizing about marrying a complete and total stranger. Barren Springs didn’t have many good suitors to pick from and you had yet to make it out on your own into the world. It had been a long time since you’d been physically attracted to anyone as strongly as you were attracted to Arvin. Besides, you weren’t fantasizing about marrying him, per se, but more so just having a wedding with him. The thought of seeing him so handsome and dressed up and the way his eyes would sparkle with adoration when he saw you walk down the aisle in your dress. It was ridiculous! You could have laughed at yourself. You just wanted to think that maybe there was some possibility that he thought you were half as beautiful as you thought he was. 

After some time driving in silence, with you sneaking many glances at the man sitting beside you, Carl spoke up, “Oh shit, my old billy don’t work like it used to. I’m gonna have to pull over and take a leak.” He trailed off, looking over at Sandy with a smile. She gave him a sharp look but slowed down. You wondered just how often of an inconvenience this must have been if she seemed so annoyed by the request. “Is that alright by you two?” He asked a little louder, directing the question at you and Arvin. 

You and Arvin both got strange looks on your face, finding it strange that he felt the need to ask if he could use the restroom. “Sure,” Arvin muttered. 

“Yeah, of course.” You added, eyes flicking between the man and woman up front. 

“There should be a road up here on the right,” Carl directed Sandy, “Little further. Little further. Slow down. Right here.” The car slowed and rolled to a stop, rocks crunching beneath the tires. “This is good.” 

You craned your head to watch the main road disappear a few dozen feet behind you and your nerves perked up. Arvin must have noticed the way you sucked a deep breath in, louder than usual, because he glanced over at you with a look in his eyes that told you that your sudden uneasiness was not unfounded. You watched as his eyes shot back and forth between the couple and then around at your surroundings. 

You began to pick at the hem of your dress. Hitchhiking was something you tried to avoid at all costs and managed to do so successfully until this very day because the idea of getting in a car with a stranger made you nervous. You knew that in all likeliness, Carl probably was just going to use the restroom and then return and you’d be on your merry way. The little indecipherable looks he and Sandy kept shooting each other didn’t escape your notice though. 

“I won’t be long.” Carl reassured, opening the door and stepping out. As he did, his jacket lifted and you saw the pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants clear as day and your eyes widened in silent panic. 

A lot of people own guns out here, you tried to rationalize but it still didn’t sit right with you. None of this did. A rock the size of Texas sat heavy in your gut and you had an extreme urge to get as far from here as possible without raising suspicions. For one, it would be extremely awkward if you were wrong and you were freaking out over nothing. On the other hand, if they were planning to kill you, it could speed up the process before you could think up a way out of it. 

You glanced over at Arvin and it was clear that he had noticed the gun as well because his jaw clenched tightly and his eyes followed Carl like a hawk watching a rabbit. Your hand slid across the seat and you nudged his leg, nodding ever so slightly towards Carl with wide implying eyes. Arvin breathed deeply and nodded, having seen exactly what you had seen. It was validating to know that Arvin didn’t feel right either but it was also even more unnerving because it meant the likelihood of danger was more likely. 

Arvin rolled the window down to watch Carl more clearly and Sandy shifting up front drew your attention. You looked up to see her absentmindedly trying to light a match for the cigarette that hung between her lips. Finally, she got it lit and brought the flame to the tip of her cigarette. You watched her do this with intent, so much so that you jumped when Carl leaned through Arvin’s window and loudly announced, “Damn. That’s gonna be one fine sunset. You have to be patient with me while I get a few shots off. Hon, give me the key.” 

He must have noticed the uncomfortable looks on yours and Arvin’s faces because he reassured, “Don’t you worry none. We’ve got some hooch in the back and… well, you got two pretty ladies with ya.” Carl raised his eyebrows at you and his partner before looking back at Arvin with a wink, “And Sandy’s good company.” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably at the way Carl added that last part, not liking the way his tone implied certain things. Sandy turned around to shoot the pair of you a smile, one that both of you returned with a hard swallow in an attempt to not show that you were highly suspicious of whatever the hell this was. Your gaze went back to Carl, where the keys made a bulge in this back pocket and your heart fell at the sight. Those keys were your only chance of getting out of here. 

The back of the car opened and you turned around to watch Carl retrieve a camera and a blanket, the gun still firmly in his waistband, before walking up to the side of the car and opening the door. Arvin flinched and looked over at Carl who motioned outside, “How ‘bout we all share a drink over this beautiful sunset. What y’all think?” 

Your voice came out shaky, “Thank you but I don’t drink. It might be best if we get headin’ out sooner than later though. My ma’s expecting me home soon and I don’t wanna worry her.” Whether or not your words were lies was a moot point. Getting out of the car just felt like a bad move. 

Carl shrugged, “Well, then, you can just watch the rest of us share a drink then. And don’t you worry. We’ll be on the road soon enough- just as soon as the sun sets. Your mama shouldn’t be too worried. Now why don’t you two come join us.” This time, it didn’t sound like much of a question. 

Sandy had thrown her door open and stepped out onto the earth outside, slamming the door shut. You were surprised when she opened up your door and leaned against it, “C’mon, hon. You don’t have to drink any. Wouldn’t wanna miss such a pretty sunset, though, would you?” 

With a partner on either side of you, you and Arvin looked at each other, knowing neither of you had a choice but to get out of the car. Reluctantly, you stepped out and walked around the back of the car towards the clearing that Carl was now leading Arvin too as well. He laid out the blanket on the ground and gestured for you and Arvin to sit down. Sandy followed shortly after with a mason jar full of a light peach liquid. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig straight from the jar, “I made it myself out o’ some strawberries I grew back home.” 

“The best stuff in Ohio. My girl’s got a real gift.” Carl winked at his wife, who handed him the jar. He too took a sip before passing it to Arvin. Arvin just shook his head before murmuring a polite decline. Carl tsked, “C’mon boy. Don’t wanna hurt my wife’s feelings.” Arvin’s jaw tensed before he slowly took the strawberry hooch from your host and tilted it till the liquid touched his lips, though you couldn’t quite tell if he actually let any of the liquid enter his mouth or not. 

He handed the jar back to Carl, not offering you any and you wondered if he was trying to respect your comment about not indulging in alcohol or if he was trying to keep you safe. Regardless, you were grateful. Carl raised the jar towards you, offering it silently, but you put your hand up, “Thank you but I’ll have to pass. I’m sure it’s delicious though.” 

“Alright, suit yourself.” He said with a shrug, taking a sip himself before screwing the lid back on and setting it on the blanket. 

Sandy came to sit just beside you and Arvin on the blanket, looking up at her husband who was still standing. “Wouldn’t they make a cute couple, Carl?” She pondered out loud and you couldn’t help the blush in your cheeks at the thought. Arvin shifted beside you, most likely feeling just as weird about the comment as you did. 

“Now, Sandy, no need to make the poor kids uncomfortable,” He chided lightly, turning around, “But, y’know, this is a real nice picture. Do y’all mind if I take a few shots for posterity’s sake? I mean, seein’ as we probably won’t see each other again after today.” 

Before you could answer, Sandy was already scooting in close to Arvin and forcefully initiating a pose, “Alright, now you,” Carl pointed at you, “Scootch in just a little closer.” Your arms shook as they lifted your body enough to move a few inches closer to Arvin. “Perfect. Now everyone smile.” You tried your hardest to force a smile but you couldn’t get one out that was worth any photo. 

Carl stood up, as if he was in thought, “I’m a photographer and I would love to get some posed shots if y’all wouldn’t mind. Now, Sandy, why don’t you step back for just a moment while we get these two together. Good. Now, Arvin, you put your arm around her- good! Just like that.” 

Arvin awkwardly placed his arm on the ground behind your back, just close enough to look like the two of you were leaning into each other. Carl pulled away from the camera with a smile, “Sandy is right. You two would make a cute couple. Now, Sandy, why you don’t hop back in there. Perfect.” 

Carl paused for a moment to ponder his next pose, “Now, Arvin, why don’t you lean back and touch my wife. Y/N, I want you to kiss him while he does it.” 

The instructions slipped from his lips with such little reservation that you were convinced you misheard him for a moment. The man had been fairly polite thus far, if not a bit odd with his quips and pryingly friendly remarks, so the bluntness with which he just told you and Arvin to perform semi-sexual acts on each other and his wife took you off guard. “Excuse me?” You shrank back, ripping your body away from Arvin and Sandy with a velocity that almost jolted you.  

When you did, your hand grazed a large patch of skin that had previously been covered with her fuzzy cheetah print coat. You whipped around to see her sitting behind you in nothing but her underwear and you quickly realized that you had grazed just beneath her bare breast. “What the fuck!” You jumped, moving away from the nearly nude woman. 

Arvin jumped when her hand rested on his shoulder and moved away as well, looking between the man and woman who clearly saw nothing wrong with what they were doing. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on here but we’re leaving.” Arvin pressed with a firm voice, standing up and offering his hand to you, pulling you up to almost be tucked into his side, his hand staying on your arm protectively.

Carl looked at him like he was some naive boy. “Boy, I’m giving you the opportunity to fuck my wife and that beautiful girl over there while I take pictures. You’re a damned fool if you turn this down.” 

“You guys are sick. I will not be having sex with anyone here today!” You exclaimed indignantly at Carl’s implication that you were going to be just fine with this. 

The older man looked over to you and waved his hand with a cocky knowing smirk. “I’ve seen you lookin’ at ‘im the whole drive. You’re tellin’ me you don’t want to make love to this boy right here? And what about my wife? You ever been with a woman?” Carl asked, eyes flicking back to Sandy, who wiggled her breasts and gave you a comforting look that told you she would help you through whatever experience you may have lacked.

You found yourself stepping backwards, away from Arvin even. Your head shook, a boiling mixture of terror, rage, and embarrassment burning inside you, “I-I-I already told you. I ain’t doing no-”

Words failed when Carl reached behind him and pulled out the gun you’d noticed earlier, pointing it right at your chest, “Now look, I hate pointin’ a gun at a pretty young thing like yourself but I’m gonna shoot you if you don’t start doin’ what I say. You and my wife are gonna give this boy the best time of his life and I’m gonna take pictures while you do it. That’s it. You understand?” 

The world around you seemed to freeze while you stared down the barrel of his pistol. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t talk. Sandy moved closer to you, her lips coming to your neck in a gentle kiss that made your skin crawl. A single tear rolled down your cheek while you stared at the gun that was still pointed at you, Sandy’s hand moving to brush your hair off your neck so she had more access. There was nothing you could do. If you made any move to shove her off, he’d shoot you. If you made a move to run, he’d shoot you. If you tried to knock the gun out of his hand, he’d shoot you. All you could do for the time being was let Sandy do what she would until you could find the right moment to disarm Carl and get the hell out of here. 

She looked up at Arvin with sultry eyes over your shoulder, “C’mon, Arvin. You ever thought about being with two women at once before?” 

Arvin swallowed hard as he watched how you sat with tears welling in your eyes, trying your hardest not to break in this impossible situation. He stood in seething anger and fear, his heart breaking a little when your hands snapped up to grab her wrists as her hands crept around your front and unpopped the top two buttons of your blouse. 

There was a click from Carl cocking the pistol and he took a step closer to you, “I told you I would shoot you if you don’t start playin’ along. This is your last warning. You’re testing my patience, girl.” Your legs were nearly giving out on you when Sandy popped open another two buttons, your bra clearly exposed for everyone to see. Your shirt was unbuttoned as far as it could go before disappearing into the waistband of your skirt where it was tucked in. 

 Arvin looked away from your exposed upper body, not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable and violated than you already were. Suddenly, there was a small flash and the click of a camera and Arvin snapped his focus over to Carl to see him snapping pictures of you, half nude and trying not to fall apart. A coil of pure hatred had been building in Arvin since the first direction of sexual acts but now he was on the verge of tackling and killing Carl right now with his bare hands. 

When he looked at you, eyes clenched shut now and silent tears pouring out the corners, he could see Lenora. Both of you were just fearful girls being taken advantage of by someone with too much power. He couldn’t save his sister but maybe he could save you. Arvin could feel his father’s Luger in his pocket but he wasn’t sure if he could draw it and shoot Carl before he could pull the trigger on you. His father’s words came back to him. Wait for the right moment. 

Carl whipped his head over to look at Arvin and snapped at him, “I ain’t askin’ again, son. Get in there and start touchin’ those girls!” Carl took the gun off you for just a moment to point it at Arvin and encourage him to approach you and Sandy. 

Now, it wasn’t that Arvin had no regard for his own life. The last thing he wanted to do was die, especially after how hard he’d had to fight his whole life, but he was more willing to risk getting himself shot than you. His hand had been gripped around his pistol in the pocket of his denim jacket, just waiting for the right moment to get the two of you away safely. In a second, he cocked the gun and drew it quickly, firing sloppily in Carl’s direction. 

Two gunshots rang out. 

You screamed, thinking that Carl had just murdered Arvin before your eyes and that you were next. Your eyes were clenched shut until you noticed Carl seethe in anger and pain, “Fuck! Fuck you boy!” And then multiple more gunshots. 

This time, there were no more groans of pain, only the heavy thud of Carl’s body on the ground. His gun fell to the ground when his hand loosened and you dove for it, snapping out of Sandy’s grip. You landed hard, your bare chest and abdomen scraping painfully against the sticks and rocks when your body slid against the rough ground. You grabbed the gun and turned to point it at Sandy, who had also procured a gun from God knows where and had it aimed right at you. You didn’t hesitate.

Again, there were two bangs. 

You fell back after you fired off your shot and in your panicked state, you couldn’t tell if you’d been hit, your arms had given up supporting your weight on the ground, or if the recoil from the gun was that intense. 

There was the sound of another body hitting the ground. 

Arving rushed to your side, falling to his knees and inspecting you for immediate signs of physical distress. “Are you okay? Were you shot?” 

Your hands ran all over your body, trying to feel for any signs of being shot. You couldn’t feel any part of your body right now, the adrenaline distorting your perception of pain. Even the large bloody scratches on your chest, breasts, stomach, arms, and knees weren’t causing any discomfort at the moment. You shook your head, “I- I don’t think so. Were you?” 

He shook his head, helping lift you to sitting, “No-no, I’m alright. We need to get out of here though.” 

Your knees were shaky as you tried to stand up but they almost gave out on you when you saw the dead bodies on the forest floor. Carl had been shot three times, twice in the chest and once in the arm. Sandy was already pale with a bloody entrance wound in her throat. 

“Oh my God… we killed them.” You were nearly hyperventilating, stumbling backwards. Arvin walked with you, holding you up until you stopped moving. 

“They were gonna kill us. We had no choice.” He held you tightly by the shoulders, looking straight into your teary and panicked eyes. 

“The police ain't gonna believe that.” Your entire life just crumbled to pieces before your eyes, all because you hitched a ride with some strangers. 

Arvin shook his head, “That’s why we gotta get outta here. Leave ‘em. Don’t tell anybody about what happened.” 

His words sunk in and you nodded in agreement. The honest part of you wanted to tell the police. Maybe they could help you but you knew that there was an equal chance they’d lock you up for murder as well. You couldn’t risk it. Running was the only option. 

Carl’s gun was still in your hand and once you realized it, you wiped it down on your skirt before placing it back in Carl’s hand. “What’re you doin’?” Arvin asked, watching you meticulously place it as if it had just fallen in place. 

“Makin’ it look like a murder-suicide. They can’t pin it to us if it don’t look like they were just murdered.” You explained, leaving the gun in his hand and taking a few shaky steps back as you stared at the corpse. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You had never imagined yourself shooting anyone let alone fixing a crime scene to get away with murder. This was an extreme situation though. You had to shoot Sandy and Arvin had to shoot Carl. They were going to kill you two if you didn’t kill them first.  

Arvin noticed the way your face had noticeably paled and how your eyes were glued to Carl’s body and the splatters of crimson liquid that pooled on his shirt and dripped onto the earth beneath his body. He stepped between you and Carl’s body and put his hand on your shoulder, the other gently on your face. His beautiful face blocked your view but you still struggled to fight the tunnel vision. “Hey, look at me. Look at me!” He urged, his grip on your face getting ever so slightly more firm when he noticed your eyes try to dart around his frame to see the body again. Arvin wasn’t hurting you by any means, just trying to keep you focused on him. “You did what you had to do, ya hear me? They was gonna kill both of us. You ain’t done nothin’ wrong. Now we just gotta get outta here, okay?” 

You swallowed hard and nodded, your eyes squeezing shut tightly for just a moment to ground yourself. In your brief moment of meditation, you tried to focus on anything to ground you but the only calming thing you could process was Arvin’s comforting hands on your shoulder and face and the way you could feel his gaze still on you with so much concern and determination, even with your eyes closed. 

When you opened them again, you breathed out, “Okay.” 

Arvin glanced down and noticed the thin trails of blood that were starting to dribble down your torso from the deeper scrapes and at first reached out to button your shirt for you but hesitated, his hands shrinking back when he realized he wasn’t sure whether that was the appropriate response. You flinched back a little when he reached for your top out of pure instinct but quickly relaxed. You glanced down, just now noticing that your shirt was still unbuttoned. “‘M sorry, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to explain your new reaction in light of the trauma you’d just gone through. Your fingers nimbly began to button up your shirt but you hissed when the fabric tightened around the copious lesions. 

“No, it’s alright. Here, take my jacket.” He was already shrugging off the denim jacket before he finished speaking. 

You put your hand up, clutching the opened fabric of your shirt together in your hand in front of your chest instead of buttoning it properly, finding this way you could keep the fabric from sticking to your wounds. “I can’t take your jacket. I don’t wanna get blood on it.” Arvin’s eyes followed yours until they landed on the small spots of blood already seeping through your thin blouse. 

Without allowing you to protest, he slung in over your shoulders, engulfing you arms and all. “It’s fine, really. I insist. You can’t go walkin’ ‘round all exposed like that. I can try to help you clean up if we find any rags.” 

You sighed when the fabric covered your arms and his scent engulfed your senses. Yet again, you found yourself numb to the world, if only for a second, but this time because all you could experience was Arvin Russel. Tunnel vision made him your only view and all you inhaled was the scent of clean musk, wet earth, and the faint scent of car grease. “Thank you.” You whispered, gripping onto the open sides just enough to keep the garment from slipping off your shoulders. 

Arvin just nodded reassuringly before wordlessly taking off towards Carl and Sandy’s car. You followed curiously. He searched around frantically and, while you were unsure of what he was looking for, you were curious to see what he’d find. For the most part, there was nothing out of the usual, until he came across a roll of film in the glove compartment. With trembling hands, he unrolled the small canister and looked at the negatives. “Oh my God-” He trailed off in horror. 

“What is it?” You asked, reaching for the film. The images nearly made you throw up. Even though they were difficult to see because they were only negatives, it was still fairly clear what they were. Pictures of men and Sandy filled the roll but they got progressively more violent and graphic, sexually and gorily. At first, they were just sitting together but then Sandy was topless in the next one and then they were kissing in the one after that and then the man would be naked in the following. Eventually, there’d only be a pool of what you assumed to be blood where his genitals should have been before finally just shots of a motionless bloody corpse that used to be whoever that poor man was.  

“Shit… we were next, weren’t we?” You asked, images of you and Arvin facing this same kind of torture flooding your mind and making your stomach churn. The guilt you had felt for shooting Sandy was melting away and you actually felt almost glad you and Arvin had ended this pair of monsters. They couldn’t hurt anyone else the way they had brutally slaughtered these other men. 

“I think so. Fuck, there’s a bunch of ‘em.” Arvin pulled out at least four other canisters, too scared to open them. It was safe to assume what they were photos of and you really didn’t want to see anymore. 

Your hands shook so much you could barely keep your grip on the negatives, “We need to give these to the police. If we prove they were serial killers, maybe they won’t send us to jail. It was self-defense.” 

Arvin really did appreciate the fact that you so badly wanted to be good and honest. Killing people wasn’t easy and he was pretty damn sure you’d never done it before. Hell, before today, neither had he. Maybe it would be easy for you to get off without any charges if you came clean but he was sure the police would be looking for him for killing Preston Teagarden any moment now. The note he’d left for his uncle and grandma back home was pretty much sure evidence that he was the murderer. If the two of you went to the police, he’d be practically turning himself in. He couldn’t do it. 

“I-I can’t go to the police. I can’t tell you why but I can’t. If you want to go to the police, you can’t tell ‘em I was here. Tell ‘em you was by yourself.” Arvin looked up at you from where he sat in the passenger seat. 

You looked down at him, realization dawning on your face. “You did somethin’, didn’t you? That’s why you were hitchhiking. You were runnin’ away.” 

Arvin got quiet and looked down at the ground where your white shoes, now scuffed up from the encounter, made contact with the soil and leaves that covered the ground. He shouldn’t tell you the truth but for some reason he really wanted to. There was an energy radiating off of you that felt safe and understanding and maybe he shouldn’t trust you but gosh did he want to. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he answered, still avoiding your gaze, “I- I didn’t want to but… he hurt my sister real bad.” 

Your silence scared Arvin. He shouldn’t have opened up, especially to a girl that was practically a stranger. Being nearly killed by a pair of serial killers creates a strange bond between two people though. Arvin’s heart stopped beating until you finally spoke again. “I believe you. It’s okay.” 

The surprise was clear in Arvin’s scared eyes when he finally looked back up to you. You didn’t look scared of him like he had feared. You actually looked almost sad for him. 

Inside, you were. Arvin Russell was a good man - you could just feel it. From your brief but intense experience with him today, you could tell that he was a kind, polite soul but there was clearly a fire that burned inside him, an urge to protect those he cared about. You had seen first hand that he was more than capable of protecting himself and others, even at high stakes… and now so were you. You were no different than him now so you were in no position to judge for what he may have done. 

“If you don’t want to go to the police, we won’t. We can get as far from here as possible and keep this our secret.” You assured, uncomfortable by how comfortable you were with the idea of running from the law.

Arvin took a moment to try and figure out the next step. Whatever it was, it needed to happen fast so you two had enough time to put space between you and the crime scene. He thought to the next closest town and groaned, “What’s wrong with your car?” 

“I don’t know. It just started actin’ up while I was drivin’ and when I pulled over, it wouldn’t start up again.” You thought back to the vehicle, which still sat on the side of the road no more than three miles back.

Arvin stood up from the passenger seat and you stepped aside so he could have some room. “I know a little ‘bout cars. It might not be too bad a fix. Walkin’ back and fixing up the car wouldn’t take as long as walking the next ten or fifteen miles to Falksville.” Arvin was right. You were right between Coal Creek, where apparently Arvin was on the run from, and Falksville, the next town over. It would take hours to walk there. 

“Alright,” you agreed. You walked to the backdoor and opened it to grab your duffel bag, handing Arvin his bag as well. Before the two of you started your trek back to your car, you couldn’t help but look back at the crime scene - the two dead bodies lying motionless, knowing you did that, the way that you had manipulated the scene, the way that you were running away with Arvin to literally flee the police. The weight of the situation weighed on you with a heavy sigh. 

A hand rested on your shoulder, “We did what we had to.” You tore your gaze from the scene, the image burned into your memory for the rest of your life. It was difficult to argue with those beautiful brown eyes that looked at you like you were someone he genuinely cared for, not like you were the stranger to him that you actually were.

You stood up a little straighter, cast one more look over at the scene before turning around to face the road. “I know.” 

**

The walk took almost an hour and neither of you tried to hitchhike your way there. Once you arrived, you attempted to clean your wounds with a pile of napkins you had hidden in your glove compartment and a water bottle while Arvin tinkered under the hood of your car. it didn’t take long for him to figure out the problem and with the help of the tool set your father insisted on you keeping in your trunk in case of an emergency (like this), he was able to get the car up and running. 

“Alright, try it now.” He instructed from under the hood. You sat in the driver’s seat, turning the key in the ignition whenever Arvin instructed to see if the car would turn over. You twisted the key again and the car struggled at first, the pulsing mechanical sound of the car trying to turn over tearing through the quiet woods. Just as you were about to admit defeat this round, the roar of the engine came to life and just like that, your car ran again. 

A big smile spread across your face and you jumped out of the driver’s seat to stand beside Arvin, both of you looking down at the engine beneath the hood. “I can’t believe that worked! Thank you so much!” 

Arvin reached up and shut the hood. “It’s no problem. We should get goin’ though.” 

You nodded in agreement, “Where do you need a ride to?” 

He thought for a moment. Arvin wasn’t quite sure. He had been hitching rides to Meade so he could see his old home but you weren’t going anywhere near that way. He didn’t want to ask you to go so far out of your way but then it occurred to him…. “Where are you goin’?” 

“Back home. My parents are expectin’ me home tonight but I can give you a ride where you need.” You answered as if it were obvious. The best way to act normal was to do exactly that: act normal. 

Arvin chewed his tongue, “You don’t live too far from here. It might be easy to link you to the crime if they catch you.” He didn’t want to scare you but he also didn’t want to see you get locked up. 

You rolled your eyes, “If that were true, they’d have to suspect every person in a thirty mile radius. It’s illogical for the police to single us out. You can stay at my house for a few days, if you need.” 

Arvin just shook his head, “I got some things I gotta do. Look, I really think you should get away for a little while so they can’t connect you to the crime but I understand if not. If it’s not too much to ask, though, would you mind possibly given’ me a lift to Falksville so I can hitch a ride there? I ain’t got much money for gas but-” 

“I ain’t lettin’ you hitchhike your way to Meade. Not after what just happened. I can give you a ride there.” You leaned against the hood of your car and looked up at him sincerely. 

“You sure? What ‘bout your parents? Ain’t they expectin’ you?” 

You just shrugged, “I’ll call ‘em in Fawksville and tell ‘em I decided to head up to Meade for a few days. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. That way I can give you a ride up to Meade and then you can take the bus there to wherever you wanna go.” 

“That’s real kind of you. Thank you.” His hands twitched in his pocket, wanting to reach out and hug you but physical affection had made Arvin nervous ever since his mother got sick. 

You nodded your head back to the car, “Hop in. We can head out and get as far as we can tonight. Either find a hotel or we can switch off when we get too tired.” Arvin listened and wordlessly slid into the passenger seat. 

The two of you drove off into the night, the stars beginning to shine brightly in the lightless woods. You weren’t quite sure what your life would be like now and neither was Arvin. There was blood on your hands and there would be a constant paranoia that one day the cops would catch up with you and throw you in prison, even if you ran away like Arvin had suggested.

And then there was Arvin. Handsome, altruistic, and brave, you were bonded to this stranger by the horrors you had endured and the blood you had shed. Though the two of you were strangers, there was a closeness that you felt to him that seemed impossible to feel with anyone else- a bond between survivors that would always be there, even if you never saw each other again. Something told you that this man would be a salient figure in your life, though. 

As you drove off down the highway, the only sound being the faint crackling radio, you tried to leave the horrors of the road behind you but there was a feeling in your gut that this was far from the end.  

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Eleven-Part Two)

Summary: (Y/N)’s first Asgardian ball doesn’t go as well as she’d hoped it would.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Disclaimer for a brief scene involving verbal and physical harassment in this chapter.

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Eleven (Part II) October 16th, 2015 Asgard (Previous Chapter)

“Would you care for a drink? Or possibly a new set of lungs?” Loki panted lightly as the two of them practically stumbled off the dance floor. After finishing their first dance together, Loki and Frigga had shared a dance and Thor had surprised (Y/N) by asking for a dance; he was better than she expected him to be but he had a habit of taking large steps that her shorter legs struggled to keep up with. Once that dance ended, Loki had swept her up into another four dances before they finally decided to take a break.

(Y/N) chuckled, trying to catch her breath and maneuver through the groups of people socializing around the dance floor. “I think I’d rather have a new pair of feet than a new set of lungs, but I’m afraid that a drink is the more realistic choice.” They finally reached a secluded corner of the ballroom. “Thank goodness Tony isn’t here right now; I can practically hear all the immature stamina jokes he’d make!”

Loki smirked and ran a hand over his slightly disheveled hair. “It wouldn’t be that horrible if Stark were here, darling.” She raised a questioning brow and he continued, “His jokes would embarrass you, and I love the way you smile when you become bashful. It’s positively enchanting.” Of course, the matter-of-fact way he said that caused a flustered smile to spread across her face. “Ah, there it is!”

“All right, you big flirt, didn’t you say that you’d get us some drinks?”

“Of course, anything for you, my goddess!” He placed a swift kiss on her cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

Shaking her head in amusement, (Y/N) leaned against the marble pillar beside her and watched the people mingling and dancing, pleased that she was able to find a place to truly take in all the sights and sounds of the Asgardian ball. It’s like I’m in a Jane Austen novel, she thought with a smile, but without the signature drama and angst.

“Pardon me, my lady, but may I ask you a question?” (Y/N) tore her eyes away from the crowd to see a young woman standing before her. She looked to be about her age but was much taller, with long strawberry-blonde hair, intelligent stormy-grey eyes and a pretty yet shy face; she was dressed in a simple blue gown made of shimmering gossamer and satin that accentuated her great height, and she wore a braided silver tiara on her head.

“Of course, but you don’t have to call me that! My name’s (Y/N).” She held her hand out and the woman paused a moment before holding her goblet of mead in one hand and gently shaking hers with the other.

“I’m Amirah,” The woman smiled tentatively before continuing. “You’re not from this realm either, are you?”

(Y/N) shook her head. In that moment, she noticed Amirah’s pointed ears and her heart began hammering excitedly in her chest. “No, I’m actually from Midgard but I’m also from-”

“I knew it!” Amirah’s face broke out into an excited grin. “I’m so sorry for my forwardness but I’ve never met a Midgardian before! Is your realm similar to Asgard? What do Midgardians do for fun? Does Midgard have a king?”

“Well…” For nearly ten minutes, (Y/N) described Midgard as simply as she could as Amirah listened with rapt attention; the Alfheimian seemed especially intrigued by New York and was a little confused by how the realm’s governments worked and why some countries govern themselves. “I’m sorry if that was too vague, Amirah, it’s difficult trying to explain such a complex place to someone who’s never been there…”

Amirah waved her apology away. “It’s all right, you’ve given me a wonderful understanding of Midgard in such a small amount of time! I wish nothing more than to visit your realm but unfortunately, Alfheim’s laws forbid it…”

“Your drink, my love!” Before (Y/N) could question Amirah, Loki appeared from the crowd before them with two goblets. “I would’ve been back sooner if not for Fandral and his inebriated shenanigans; he kept challenging me to a drinking contest.” He caught sight of Amirah and gave her a small bow. “Lady Amirah, it’s a pleasure to see you again. How are you enjoying the ball?”

“It’s splendid! (Y/N) here was just telling me a little about Midgard; such a fascinating place, is it not?”

Loki smiled, shooting (Y/N) a wink as he handed her a goblet. “Yes, it is. One might say that the people are the best things about the entire realm.” He glanced back at the Alfheimian as another dance began. “Did you know that (Y/N) is part-?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Prince Loki, but I must go; I promised this dance to my father!” Amirah gave them a graceful curtsy. “It was a pleasure talking to the both of you!” With that, she hurried off into the crowd.

(Y/N) watched her go, curiosity still pulling at her. “Are she and her father members of the Alfheimian delegation?”

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion. “She didn’t tell you who she was?” (Y/N) shook her head. “That’s King Tarian’s daughter, the Princess of Alfheim.”

“I wonder why she didn’t say anything,” She commented before sipping on her watered-down mead and shuddering as the alcohol burned her throat. “Urgh, I’m never going to get used to that…”

Her boyfriend smirked as he took a long drink from his goblet. “I’m still surprised that you’re able to tolerate even that much mead; Thor and I gave that same mixture to Stark once and he passed out before he could finish it, but then again, he isn’t part Alfheimian. Speaking of which, did Amirah tell you anything about your mother’s realm?”

“I didn’t get a chance to ask her anything, I was too busy telling her about Midgard. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her that I’m part-Alfheimian.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure that we’ll run into her again before the night is over.” He looked away from the crowd before them and frowned when he looked at her. “Are you feeling all right?”

(Y/N) stood straighter, realizing that she was leaning heavily against the stone pillar next to her to relieve the pressure on her feet. “I’m fine, but still recovering from all that dancing!”

Loki opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Thor coming up to them, a bright grin lighting up his face. “Lady (Y/N), how are you enjoying your evening?”

“It’s been wonderful!” (Y/N) exclaimed, ignoring the discomfort of her dress laces and her aching feet. “Are you and Sif having a good time?”

“Of course! She’s off somewhere besting Fandral at a drinking contest; I was cheering her on when Mother sent me on a mission,” Thor looked away from her and smiled at Loki. “Mother needs to speak with you, brother, she said it was urgent. She’s out in the corridor.”

“All right, would you stay here and keep (Y/N) company?” When Thor nodded, Loki pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back shortly, darling.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Thor offered her his hand with a knowing smile. “Would you care for some fresh air?”

“Sure!” Taking his hand, (Y/N) allowed him to lead her through the crowd; once again, she noticed how everyone’s curious eyes would follow her and she was glad that Thor was leading her away from them. A few moments later, they were on a secluded balcony that overlooked one of the palace’s magnificent gardens. After taking a moment to enjoy the silence and the slight breeze against her flushed skin, (Y/N) looked up at Thor. “It’s so beautiful.”

He gave her another smile and leaned against the stone railing. “When we were younger, Loki and I would come out here during balls whenever we grew too bored. He would show me his magic and when we played, we would pretend that we were great warriors leading an army against the Jotuns together.” Thor’s smile slowly fell and he was silent for a moment before continuing. “We would have played a very different game had I known the truth about our family.”

“It’s not your fault, Thor, you were raised to believe a lie. You both were.” She gave his large hand a comforting pat as she leaned against the stone railing beside him. “And now look at the both of you, you’re fighting side-by-side again. You both have come such a long way.”

“Thank you, Lady (Y/N), your words are a great comfort.” Thor glanced at her and gestured to her empty goblet. “Would you care for another drink?”

“Just water, please.”

Taking her goblet, he gave her a teasing bow. “Your wish is my command, my lady, so I shall return shortly!” He winked and walked back into the crowded ballroom.

Turning back to the moonlit garden, (Y/N) let out a relieved sigh. Alone at last, she thought as she rubbed her temples with her fingers to relieve her dull headache. As fun and wonderful as balls were, she’d come to realize that they were also unbelievably uncomfortable; after only three hours, her dress was constricting her breathing, her shoes were pinching her toes and her neck was sore from wearing her heavy tiara. Look on the bright side, though, you still have a chance to learn a little about Alfheim tonight, she thought with a smile, you just have to track down Princess Amirah.

“I was told that Asgard has the most beautiful sights in all the Nine Realms, but I didn’t believe that until I came out here.”

(Y/N) quickly turned to see an Alfheimian man leaning casually against the opening of the balcony. He was dressed in a midnight-blue tunic embroidered with sliver thread and black trousers tucked into knee-high black boots with a silver crown on his light-brown hair. He had a carefree grin on his pale face but something about his nearly translucent-grey eyes made her uneasy. “Sorry, I was just leaving; enjoy the view of the garden…”

He smirked and stepped in front of her before she could leave. “How coy of you, minx. What’s your name?”

“Uninterested.” (Y/N) moved to step around him. His hand shot out and grabbed her upper arm before she could take another step. “Let me go.”

“Now, now, I only want to know your name.” The man’s eyes bored into hers as his grin widened. “Allow me to introduce myself: I am General Arbane of Alfheim, commander of the Royal Army.”

(Y/N) tried wrenching her left arm free, but his grip was too strong. “I don’t care who you are, but you have five seconds to let me go.”

Arbane only chuckled. “Other women would trample each other to be where you are right now, minx-” He was cut off abruptly when her foot stomped down onto his foot; with a groan of pain, his hold loosened and she hurried towards the balcony’s opening but when she was just steps away, his hand clamped around her wrist and pulled her back onto the secluded balcony. “You insolent little viper, how dare you-!”

Suddenly, Arbane was ripped away from her. The force knocked her to the ground and it took her a moment to clamber to her feet; that’s when she saw Loki, his face filled with pure rage as he and Arbane exchanged blows. “Loki! Loki, stop!” She tried grabbing his arm before he could land another punch but it was no use, he didn’t even acknowledge her presence.

Panicking, (Y/N) gathered her skirt in her hands and dashed into the ballroom, dodging people as she searched for Thor. Thankfully, she didn’t have far to look; he was standing near the wall, chatting with Sif and the Warrior’s Three as he held two goblets of mead.

“…I would have to say that Pop-Tarts are the best, but-Lady (Y/N), what’s wrong?”

(Y/N) struggled to speak through gasps of breath. “Thor, it’s-it’s Loki, he’s on the balcony, please-!”

Thankfully, he seemed to understand; he thrust the goblets into a passerby’s arms and hurried to the balcony, (Y/N) and the others following closely behind. When they reached the balcony, Thor and Sif rushed to grab Loki, who was holding a knife to the general’s throat, while Volstagg and Hogun both grabbed Arbane. While Loki only had a swollen cheek, Arbane’s nose was clearly broken and blood flowed freely down his engorged face.

“What happened?” Thor demanded, his arms wrapped tightly around Loki’s torso as he struggled to break free.

“That bastard attacked (Y/N)!” Loki snarled, eyes still filled with fury.

Thor looked at her with wide eyes, and all she could do was nod as Fandral gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. Thor turned to look back at Arbane and his blue eyes hardened as the Alfheimian spat out, “The peace treaty has been broken by the Prince of Asgard! This means war!” Sif wrenched his arm harder behind his back, effectively quieting him.

“If that were true, then the treaty was broken the moment you attacked a woman under the protection of the Allfather!” Thor’s voice was low but filled with more power and authority than ever. “Take him to the dungeons and be discrete; his king can negotiate for his freedom after the ball.”

Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun each grabbed Arbane and with matching looks of disgust, they led him roughly down the balcony’s stairs and through the garden towards the dungeons.

Once they were out of sight, Thor pushed Loki away from him; it might have been (Y/N)’s imagination, but she could’ve sworn that Thor’s eyes crackled with electricity. “Loki, what the Hel is wrong with you?!”

Loki’s eyes narrowed dangerously and his jaw clenched. “What, you think I should���ve just let him attack (Y/N)?!”

“Of course not, but murdering King Tarian’s general wouldn’t have solved anything! The peace treaty-!”

“Oh, screw the peace treaty, Thor, you’re beginning to sound just as high and mighty as Odin! You’re the one responsible for all this, you left her alone!”

(Y/N) took a hesitant step forward. “Loki-”

“Loki, you may not care about it but the peace treaty is essential to Asgard’s survival! Our father-!”

“HE’S NOT MY FATHER!”

Loki’s outburst caused Thor to stiffen, his face contorting with barely-restrained anguish. “Then am I not your brother?”

Everything was dead silent for a moment before Loki coolly replied, “You’re not.”

Throwing Loki one last glare, Thor stormed off into the ballroom. Loki stood and stared after him, his chest heaving and his fists tightly clenched at his sides. Without another word, Loki marched off into the dark gardens, leaving (Y/N) standing alone on the balcony and frozen in shock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My dear, are you quite sure that you’re all right?”

(Y/N) smiled slightly, touched by Frigga’s concern as they talked in a quiet corner of the ballroom. As soon as she’d snapped out of her shock, she set out to find the queen and tell her about what had happened on the balcony. “I’m fine, I’m just...”

Frigga placed a comforting hand on her cheek as she adjusted her tiara with the other. “Some say that Loki possesses a silver tongue, but when it comes to his brother…well, he tends to speak first and think about the impact of his words later. And although I’m disappointed that they stormed off and left you alone after your ordeal, I’m confident that both Loki and Thor will soon return to their usual selves.” Frigga smiled but (Y/N) could sense that she was also worried for her two sons, so she took the queen’s hand and gave it a brief but comforting squeeze.

“Queen Frigga, I-oh, is this a poor time?” They turned around and (Y/N)’s eyes widened in surprise when she saw King Tarian and Princess Amirah standing before them.

Frigga gave them both a bright smile. “No, not at all! (Y/N), this is King Tarian of Alfheim and I believe that you already met his daughter, Princess Amirah.” The two Alfheimians inclined their heads in a small bow and Amirah flashed her a sheepish smile. “And may I present Lady (Y/N) of Midgard.” Unsure of what to do, (Y/N) gave the pair a small curtsy.

“Yes, Queen Frigga and my daughter have told me many great things about you this evening.” King Tarian’s cheerful expression faltered and he lowered his voice. “I was sorry to learn of what transpired between you and my general but rest assured that he will be punished accordingly when we return to Alfheim in the morning.” (Y/N) returned the king’s kind smile and couldn’t help but feel at ease. “Queen Frigga mentioned earlier that you wish to learn more about Alfheim?”

“Yes, of course,” After giving the queen a grateful look, (Y/N) took a deep breath and continued. “Several months ago, I learned that my mother was from Alfheim and since then, I wanted to know more about the realm and I…I want to find out who she is.”

King Tarian stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Interesting…as you might have already guessed, Alfheim’s borders have been closed for nearly a millennia; no one has been allowed to come or go in all that time, and yet you stand here before me.”

“But Father, it’s possible that over the years the rebels discovered ways-”

“Yes, that’s true.” King Tarian gave his daughter a look of warning, which caused her to bow her head meekly. Turning back to (Y/N) and Frigga with a forced smile, he said, “But without knowing her name, it would be very difficult to find her. I’m truly sorry, Lady (Y/N), but I cannot help you. I hope you enjoy the rest of the ball.”

He began to turn away and as she panicked, (Y/N) blurted out, “I have Alf Seidr!” The king stopped dead in his tracks at her declaration, and Amirah’s mouth fell open in shock. “Does that help narrow it down?”

King Tarian turned back around, a mixture of disbelief and fear on his face. “Impossible…she can’t have…”

Before he could elaborate, the sounds of screams filled the ballroom and (Y/N) frantically stood on her toes and looked around for their cause. Her heart dropped suddenly when she saw Thor convulsing on the floor, white foam spewing from his mouth as Sif struggled to turn him onto his side. “Thor!” She ran through the panicked crowd to him, dropping to her knees next to Sif and watching helplessly as Thor’s face lost its color. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know, we were drinking mead and he collapsed!”

“Thor!” (Y/N) glanced up to see Loki and Frigga hurrying to them through the scattering crowd with panicked faces. They both dropped like stones beside Thor, and Loki’s frightened eyes darted from his brother’s convulsing body to the empty goblet beside him. Without a word, he summoned his green magic and quickly pressed his glowing palms to his brother’s chest. Giving each other a hasty look, (Y/N) and Frigga did the same; (Y/N) concentrated on her magic, willing it to enter Thor’s body and heal whatever had happened; she had no clue if her magic even contained any healing properties, but she had to at least try.

A moment later, Thor’s eyes slid shut and his body was still.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: I’m sorry for the cliffhanger but I couldn’t resist! And omg, did ya’ll see the new Loki trailer that dropped?! It looks amazing!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Twelve-Part One

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: The Hoardless Dragon

Summary: Thorin has been waiting his whole life for something interesting to happen in Erebor, and when Tharkun arrives with a “dragon expert” to warn of Smaug’s survival he thinks he may have gotten his wish. However, Thror falling in and out of the gold madness its beneficial to Erebor’s defenses, and it may be that there is more than one dragon to fear.

Tharkun has always been a curious character. Thorin may only be twenty-three, but he knew enough to recognize at least this fact. First off, he carried himself as neither man nor elf. Thorin has always been amicable to the men of Dale, much to his grandfather’s chagrin. Even to a lesser extent, his own father seemed hesitant over his friendship with Girion’s son. Flawed they may be, Thorin would describe men as a race as being unchiseled rock. Rough, but hiding their true value deep within. He would never use this to describe Tharkun.

Likewise, the elves had an almost ethereal, and in Thranduil’s case, haughty air about them that also didn’t apply to the wizard. Tharkun carried the same wisdom and experience as the ageless race, but he was also warm and wizened like he came to expect of men. He could even argue that Tharkun was secretive and stubborn like his own people if his battle of wits with his grandfather was any indication. Yes, Tharkun was odd. However, he was also kind. He encouraged Thorin’s curiosity of what lay beyond the gates of Erebor with tales of stone giants and great eagles. Battles fought long ago, and hidden lands of green hills and little people.

Thror may look at the eccentric being and sneer, but Thrain and Thorin were in near agreement that Tharkun was a true Khuzdbâha (dwarf-friend). That’s not to say Thorin was blind to the fact that Tharkun was a meddlesome interloper who preferred to speak in riddles. Thorin was third in line for the throne after all, and he knew how to watch for a politician’s half-truths. Still, when the herald rushed into the throne room to announce the arrival of the grey wizard, Thorin found himself fidgeting beside his grandfather’s throne in excitement.

Thrain’s eyes were twinkling as he looked over his father’s head at him. Still his words were reprimantory. 

“Thorin, behave.”

The young prince ducked his head trying his best to calm himself. He still wasn’t quite used to throne room behavior, and was constantly being reminded to behave. His mother was in fits that he had to attend open court at all thinking him still too young. He was proud of the fact that his father was already training him in his duties to the crown. However, he knew his father wouldn’t have sprung it on him at all if it wasn’t for his grandfather’s declining health. 

It was something Thrain and Fris did well to hide from their children, but Thorin wasn’t blind. The days of Thror encouraging Thorin and Frerin in their mischief as they tried to sneak by his office or taking him into the forge to experience his first taste at smithing were far behind him. Now, he could barely catch his grandfather’s attention so absorbed was he in his gold. Even raised to appreciate the might and beauty of Erebor, Thorin had a hard time understanding why his grandfather spent so much time with his gold and gems. Even his smiles and laughter were now replaced with ice glares and harsh words. Thorin loved his grandfather, but he was not so sure that his grandfather loved him anymore. Whatever strange inflection has taken Thror, Thorin hoped Tharkun held the cure.

The doors to the throne room were thrown open once more as Tharkun was escorted down the path with four guards stationed inside. A new precaution his grandfather deemed important to take as of late. Tharkun made no motion that the blatant display of distrust bothered him as he swept his way to the bottom of the steps with a deep bow and wide grin.

“Hail Thror, son of Dain. Hail Thrain, son of Thror. Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. It pleases me greatly to see the sons of Durin in good health and prosperity.”

Thror was content to glare down at the wizard so Thrain took it upon himself to greet their guest.

“Hail Tharkun! If we had known you would be arriving, we would have already pulled out the good mead. As it is, if you intend to join us for dinner tonight, I would see it done.”

“You do know how to tempt me, dear friend. As much as I would like to revel in pleasantries, I believe business must come first.”

“Yes, what storm follows in your wake this time, Tharkun Amsâlakhzar (bringer of bad luck)?” Thror mused.

The room was immediately filled with tension as Tharkun’s eyes narrowed on Erebor’s king in tight scrutiny. He’s never actually seen it in action, but Cousin Fundin, used to tell Thorin stories of Tharkun’s raw power, and how you never anger a wizard. The dwarf prince was half-afraid he was about to get a firsthand account.

“Ha!”

The sudden noise seemed to startle everyone in the room as Thorin turned his head just noticing for the first time that Tharkun did not arrive alone. The strangest being Thorin had ever seen in his life stepped out from behind the wizard. He stood merely an inch or two taller than Thorin which was on the small side for a dwarf. His beardless face, large wooly feet, and slightly pointed ears hidden by bronze curls stood in stark contrast to what Thorin was used to with his own kind having never seen another species of their height. Even his fashion was bizarre with the short trousers, perfectly tailored vest, and a velvet jacket of all things. That’s when Thorin remembered Tharkun’s stories of the little people on the other side of the world. This creature must be a halfling!

“I suppose you had every reason to fear, Grey Wizard, I’ll give you that much.” The halfling snorted, deriving some sort of depravatated humor from the situation.

“And what is this?” Thror demanded.

“Not what, Your Majesty, who. You can be knee deep in a dragon spell, and still have some manners about you.” The smaller male mocked.

Thorin had a detached bewilderment as he watched the impending mine-collapse. His own father didn’t speak to Thror so brazenly, and by the tightened grip on the stone throne, this matter would not be taken lightly. Still he couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘dragon spell’?

“How silly of me!” Tharkun forced the diversion even as his hands tightened on his staff. “King Thror, Prince Thrain, Prince Thorin, allow me to introduce Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

At this the halfling gave a small nod of his head raising the ire of his grandfather. The smaller male would be lucky to leave with his life if he continued on this way. However, Master Baggins' attention then swept over to Thorin himself, and the halfling seemed caught off-guard for the first time tilting his head just slightly as he blinked slowly. The halfling’s hand immediately went to the golden band on his right hand, and he began to fiddle with it while narrowing his eyes on Thorin. 

“Why is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire in my mountain?” Thror snarled, pulling Thorin’s attention back to his grandfather and the wizard.

“Bilbo has been my traveling companion as of late.” Tharkun smiled, seeming to think the conversation was back on his terms.

“Not voluntarily, mind you.” The halfling grumbled earning a small whack on his back from the wizard’s staff.

Thorin had to duck his head to hide his mirth at the scene, but when he looked back up the halfling was watching him again. This time with more fondness, as he gave the prince a wry grin and a quick wink.

“You see, I asked Mister Baggins to join me because I noticed stirrings to the north.” Tharkun remarked casually enough.

“Stirrings of what?” Thrain asked curiously.

“That my Prince, is the right question.” Tharkun smiled brightly before his face and tone fell grave in the blink of an eye. “The fire-drake, Smaug, is awakening from his slumber, and he seems to be sniffing out a new hoard to bed in even as we speak. If you do not take precautions, I fear his sights may fall to Erebor.”

The wizard’s warning was met with silence. Thorin wouldn’t lie. There was a small part of him that thought this was fantastic news. Nothing exciting ever happens in Erebor! The entire time he’s shadowed his father, it’s been nothing but boring council meetings, numbers and figures, even their trips down to Dale had become tedious. Now, though, there was something exciting to occupy his attention, and he couldn’t deny that part of him that wanted to charge headfirst and face down a dragon to earn his epithet. Thorin Dragonslayer, they would call him!

Outwardly, he portrayed the same concern he could see on his father’s face. Then his grandfather burst into fits of laughter.

“You have told some tall tales, Wizard, but this one steals the prize! A dragon! Next you’re going to tell me Durin’s Bane itself is knocking on my doors.”

“It is no jest, King Thror.” Tharkun insisted with a tight expression.

Thror sobered up some, but still seemed to discredit the grey figure’s words.

“I have been chased from my home by a dragon before. I know the signs. Erebor is prosperous, it will not fall. Especially to a fire-drake that has been extinct for ages!”

“You ignore the signs.” Mister Baggins stepped forth once more. “They are all here, King Under the Mountain, and the fire-breather Smaug lives as well as a few that your people refer to as cold-drakes. Why, it wouldn’t shock me to find Eisigem still sleeps in Dain’s Halls.”

“Enough, you impertinent imp!” Thror cried, jumping to his feet.

Thorin’s hand fell to his sword at his waist along with the other guards even though he was conflicted about attacking Tharkun and his companion. Still, the hobbit offered his grandfather great insult, and he was not about to deny that.

“Who are you to question the word of the king?” Thror demanded.

Mister Baggins’ lips were pressed in a tight line, and once glance at the dark look from Gandalf sealed his sour mood.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Mister Baggins replied in a clipped tone. “I am but a simple hobbit, and it is clear that I overreached my station.”

“A simple hobbit, in the service of this ustar (interferer).”

“Gandalf is an...old friend. He called on me for a favor, and I found myself in the position of being able to fulfill his request.” Mister Baggins offered in response.

Thror gradually seated himself once more, and Thorin relaxed the grip on his blade. Tharkun stepped in at that point, half shielding the smaller being behind his person.

“Bilbo, you see, is something of a dragon expert.” The wizard offered. “I thought his knowledge would benefit Erebor well with the terrible news I’ve brought.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo with renewed interest. A dragon expert? How many of the beasts had he slain to earn such a title? Thorin found himself hungry for the halfling’s story perhaps more so than he ever yearned for Tharkun’s own.

“Aye, a dragon expert.” Thror huffed wryly. “Why he looks more grocer than warrior. Axe or sword, Mister Baggins, what is your choice?”

He smirked darkly in response to the king’s blatant mocking as he continued to fiddle with the ring on his finger in agitation. “Neither. I’m more fond of using my bare hands and teeth.” 

Thror huffed, not impressed with the hobbit’s jest even as Tharkun shifted uncomfortably. 

“Your Majesty, I have not brought Bilbo to advise you on how to slay dragons, but on how to prevent their arrival because Smaug is coming. Perhaps not any time soon, but the treasure beneath your feet will be far too alluring, I fear.” 

A tense silence fell over the room, and Thorin wanted to shut his eyes against the storm he knew to come. If there was one thing he had learned very well, it was that you did not mention gold in Thror’s presence.

“I see.” Came the unexpectedly calm reply. “You have not brought a dragon expert, but a burglar in my mountain. And use your insane theories of dragons as a front to rob me blind!”

“Your Majesty…” Tharkun began before Thror cut him off, banging his fist on his throne.

“SILENCE!” Thror roared. “I ought to kill you now for such insolence.”

“DO NOT THREATEN ME, THROR SON OF DAIN!” 

Like everyone in the room, Thorin shrunk away from the shadows that manifested outwards from Tharkun. Thrain broke protocol to place himself protectively in front of Thorin, and the guards stepped in front of the royal family. None approached Tharkun as they were quickly reminded the wanderer was in fact a wizard of great power.

“I’m not here to rob you!” Tharkun continued before the shadows suddenly died down, and his expression turned soft. “I’m trying to help you.”

There was no movement that followed as all eyes watched the king to see what he would do next. Thorin’s grandfather looked taut as a rope in a pulley. His eyes narrowed as if weighing his chances against the wizard in battle. Thrain’s hand squeezed Thorin’s arm in a reassuring manner, but his eyes remained on Tharkun just as his war hammer remained in his other hand. Thror finally got up and walked to the edge of the dais using its height to tower over Tharkun.

“Get out of my kingdom. You and your abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendent of rats).”

Tharkun’s chin jutted out proudly at the king’s order. Thorin’s eyes sought out the halfling to see how he would react to the slur. Only, the smaller being was no longer behind Tharkun’s cloak. He seemed to be the only one to realize this as his eyes darted over the chamber before finally landing on the halfling’s form. Thorin made a strangled sound in surprise as he jumped away from the throne. All eyes, including Master Baggins’, fell on Thorin as he merely stared in open mouth shock at the being standing on the king’s throne holding the Arkenstone close to his mouth. Almost as if he were speaking to it though Thorin couldn’t make out the words.

“T-THIEF! H-HOW DARE...AKLÂF MENU (curse you)!” Thror sputtered before coming to life and heaving his sword high above his head to smite the halfling.

Thorin could only watch in horror as Bilbo Baggins, dragon expert and friend of Tharkun, remained resolute in his execution, still whispering to the gem. Just when he was about to be struck down, the halfling’s eyes bore into Thror’s own, stopping Thorin’s grandfather in his tracks. It was as if time had been frozen around them. Thorin felt the itch to take a step forward, but Thrain still had his arm securely wrapped around the other. The guards also seemed uneasy about this strange spell being wove around their king and whether they could interfere. Tharkun only watched on with a narrowed, but unsurprised gaze.

Only a few seconds had passed, though they felt like a lifetime, when the Arkenstone’s light dimmed, and iron clattered against the ground. Thorin looked around wildly, but every adult had dropped their weapons and were staring at each other and the halfling with an awed fascination. Thorin looked up at his father as even he loosened his grip breathing deeply as if it were his first out of a long sleep.

“What did you do?” Thrain murmured softly.

The halfling merely hopped off the stone throne, straightening out his vest and jacket before approaching Thror. The king had sunk to his knees, but his blue eyes, the same eyes Thorin had inherited, looked brighter and troubled all at once.

“This is not a jewel, Your Majesty.” Master Baggins began still looking only at the king as he held out the Arkenstone. “This is a petrified dragon heart.”

Gasps rang throughout the room.

“While not as potent as a real dragon heart, it’s been weaving its spell over you all the same. The effects will lessen, though not disappear completely until it’s destroyed. At the very least, I wouldn’t advise putting it back above your head.” The halfling continued to explain as he shoved the stone into Thror’s hands.

“Don’t dragon spells come from locking gazes with the beast?” Thorin asked curiously.

Master Baggins flinched before turning to Thorin with a hard look. His voice, however, was soft and encouraging.

“No, Your Highness. That’s unfortunately a myth. It’s the heartbeat that lulls you.”

“Yes, but...what did you do?” Thrain repeated again.

“I spoke to it in its language and convinced the heart to sleep. Like I said, not a permanent solution, but I do hope it stops the irrational yelling and weapon drawing.”

Thror and Thrain just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You spoke to it…” Thror repeated.

“I did say our friend here was a dragon expert.” Tharkun used this moment to speak up, surprising many who had seemed to forget he was still there.

Thorin watched the hard glare that passed between the two before Master Baggins walked right past the wizard.

“Right, well, if you need me to silence any other madness-inducing gems, I’ll be down in the market. I’m famished.”

The halfling spun on heel, gave a deep bow to the royals, before disappearing out of the hall before anyone could so much as say a word in protest.

“Now, about Smaug…” Tharkun began.

Thror winced as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. 

“Peace Tharkun, it’s been a rather...eventful morning. If you are willing to wait until tomorrow...Erebor would be proud to host you and Master Baggins.”

Thorin stared at his grandfather in shock before a small smile began to split his face. Could it be? Did Tharkun and Master Baggins truly fix Thror? Tharkun’s approving smile managed to give Thorin hope that they had achieved the impossible.

“As His Majesty wishes.” Tharkun bowed.

Thror looked to be trying hard not to roll his eyes as he stepped out through the side entrance. Thrain immediately followed, dragging Thorin along behind him even as the younger prince turned to wave goodbye to Tharkun. Once they were in the relative privacy of the royal halls, Thror wrapped Thrain up in a hug.

“Makkê, birashagammi (My son, I’m sorry).”

Thrain didn’t say anything in return. Just clutched his father a little tighter and if either of the dwarrows were crying, Thorin pretended not to see. Instead he was practically vibrating in his desire to be dismissed so he could tell Frerin, Narvi, and Falvi. Obviously something as amazing as meeting a dragon expert was too big to keep from his best friends in the whole mountain.

“I have no patience to keep up appearances for the rest of the day. I would like to retire and actually enjoy my family once more.” Thror’s voice brought Thorin back to the present conversation just in time for a large grin to split his face.

He may just get his wish after all.

[obiyuki-beebs]

the less we say: one

read here on ao3

Obiyuki Trope Madness 2021 @snowwhite-andtheknight

Almost Kiss

Words: 1238

part 1 / part 2

______________________________

They had been back in Lilias for half a day when the letters came in, confirming the Northern lords’ approval to plant Phostryias. The pharmacy bustled with commotion as the news spread. Year’s worth of work and research finally coming to fruition would undoubtedly lead to a celebration. 

Obi, Shirayuki, and Ryuu watched the cacophony grow, sitting together in the central pharmacy with the others. Yuzuri had only narrowly been prevented from uncorking mead with the promise from Shidan that they could have a party that evening. 

Obi turned to look at the two of them, eyes crinkling with his smile.

“Well, well. Mission accomplished, wouldn’t you say? You two have worked hard for this.”

“Not alone,” Shirayuki laughed, smiling back at him, “You included, Obi. None of this would have been possible without you.”

“Oh, stop, you’ll make me blush.”

“You? Blush?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Obi replied matter-of-factly, legs kicking out in glee before he hopped to his feet. 

Ryuu, having watched the exchange in silence, spoke up. “Obi doesn’t really blush. He just makes a certain face in situations where other people blush.” He paused and nodded his head. “Yes, that face.”

Shirayuki laughed out loud at the wide-eyed expression that Obi tried to hide with his forearm.

“I’ve been found out,” Obi relented, smiling sideways at them as he recovered, quickly snatching up a cork that an unknown faction of early revelers had dislodged. 

“I’m going to write a letter to the Chief. She may know already, but I want to tell her myself.”

“That’s a great idea, Ryuu. Send her my regards,” Shirayuki said.

Ryuu left the room, gangly limbs carrying him away as Yuzuri began handing out cups of mead.

“Speaking of letters,” Obi said upon finishing his drink, “We should write to the Master. He’ll be happy to hear about this. Maybe he’ll finally be able to ask you about a certain special something.” Obi winked. Shirayuki’s eyes followed the twitch of his lip as he said it.

She hummed, also setting down her cup and waving off Izuru before it could be filled again. 

“Obi, I’ll catch up with you around dinner,” she muttered, looking distracted. “I’m going out for a walk.”

Obi blinked. “Care for some company?”

She looked up at him, lips parted slightly.

“Not today,” she smiled, “Don’t worry. I’m not going far.”

“As you say, Miss.”

____________________________________

On the bank of the overlook outside of Lilias, Shirayuki knelt and pressed the fresh dirt in front of her with soft hands. Thick mid-summer leaves rattled overhead as the wind passed through them. 

She sat there, staring at the soil-stained whorls of her fingertips as the afternoon sped by; the mountains in the distance glowed, and the answers she searched for danced just out of reach. 

____________________________________

The months passed quickly, and the researchers involved with the Phostryias plant were kept especially busy organizing oversight and propagation. 

Obi grew accustomed to scraping dirt from underneath his fingernails after each long day of helping Shirayuki transplant seedlings. Ryuu spent his mornings with ink and parchment after spending half the night observing the vines that grew steadily on the road to Lilias. 

The second group in Oriold reported similar progress and local interest, and the issue with the invasive green buprestid was resolved when Suzu suggested netting. Yuzuri watched Obi smile almost fondly at the iridescent beetle before trapping it in a jar with the countless others.

And so it went.

____________________________________

The invitation from Wilant came as the leaves turned, dry and vibrant against the evergreens scattered across the north. Shirayuki stared at the signature of the letter from Zen, noting the even handwriting of Mistuhide before setting it down with a sigh. Outside her window, the first snow began to fall.

____________________________________

The dinner at the castle was uneventful. They spoke to familiar nobles and knights, skirting around the parquet with crystal glasses of wine. 

“I received a note from Mister,” Obi spoke from somewhere behind her elbow, “They won’t be able to join us this evening. But tomorrow, before we leave, there should be time.”

“Mmm,” Shirayuki hummed in reply, cheeks colored by drink.

____________________________________

“I’ve decided,” Zen said, facing the window and the early morning light, “I want to ask her before you leave today. Mind helping me out…Obi?”

“Anything for the Master,” Obi replied, eyes dim as they bored into the prince's back.

____________________________________

The courtyard was cold, and the ever-present northern wind cut through even the thick wool of her shawl. Shirayuki stood alone. To the unacquainted observer, she was merely taking in the morning light that filtered in through the clouds. Few would notice the tension in the set of her lips, strung out by the question she wanted to ask as it poised there for so many months. She had decided.

She started at the soft crunch of snow behind her, whirling to greet Obi with a gentle but eager smile on her face.

“Obi!” she called, starting forward before he could slip away.

“Ah, Miss,” he says, forcefully pressing into the center of his chest like he can force the tightness that lives there to evacuate, “I think Master will be looking out for you soon.”

She didn’t respond. Tucked into a small alcove,  Obi wished to himself that he could look into her eyes like this for a little longer.

“I’ll go get him then-” he began, but she had already reached out and taken his hand, palms tight through their gloves, and all he could see was the wind-whipped skin of her face.

“Don’t,” she implored, eyes searching his.

She was close; the red of her hair so, so dark, wisps pulled by the wind, and the light from the snow around them reflected softly on her pale skin. Obi inhaled sharply, wondering.

“Miss?”

“Obi,” she breathes, and he can only just hear the tremor in her voice, “Would you call me by my name?”

Their breath misted, caught in the stillness that made up the few inches now between them. 

His hand gripped hers tightly, the other moving on its own, and he swallowed when he realized he had already brushed the hair away from her temple, gloved fingers grazing the skin of her cheek.

When did she get so close?

He almost laughs, tilting his head nearer like he’s done this before.

“Shirayuki,” Obi whispers, lips parting softly around her name.

Somehow this is familiar; Obi’s amber and Shirayuki’s clear, seafoam green eyes locked in a shared silence that holds them hostage. 

Eyelids fluttering, she inhaled slowly, the musk of his breath she had only caught hints of before, and without realizing, she leans into him and-

“Shirayuki!”

Zen rounded the corner with a skip in his step, eyes bright. 

“Zen,” she stuttered out, “You’re coming to see us off?”

“Ah, actually, there was something I wanted to ask you while we’re alone.”

“Right now? Can’t it-”

She turned, but Obi was already gone. 

“It’s-um... it’s something important.”

Their eyes met as a cold wind swelled past her.

“What is it, Zen?”

After a moment, he spoke. “I know we haven’t discussed this in a long time. My feelings haven’t changed. I wanted to know...if I asked you to marry me, to stand at my side as my wife,” he smiled, “What would you say?”

The snow started falling then. Shirayuki faced him with her back straight.

[wlfkssd]

Hide & Seek

summary : ABO AU. ivar cheats at plays hide and seek with his sons and finds his youngest, baldur, is incredibly bad at it. 

pairing : ivar x aethelred ( with mentions of hvitserk x aethelred ) warnings : as stated, this takes place in an ABO au - if you don’t like it, don’t read it, basically. mentions of hvitserk’s daughter being pregnant at 17. word count : approx. 1500

On sunny days like this one, when the wind only dares kiss the shore of Kattegat's great dock, Ivar has come to appreciate spending time with his sons. There are countless things they could be doing; training with the sword, hunting, or learning runes but today is a time for play. The game is hide and seek and Ivar has no intention of losing to any of his children - though he knows they should all feel the pride of success at least once in their lives.

Perhaps one day the battlefield will allow it.

"I am coming, little piggies." He says, voice rising and falling in his usual cadence as he stalks from one stall to the next in the market. Many of the settlement's residents watch in amusement at their king - gone is the once feared ruler and welcomed is one who knows what love is.

Thanks in no small part to his husband, omega, and father of his children. Prince Aethelred of Wessex.

In the beginning, their union was one of unease. Ivar's suspicions as to why the prince might choose him above his brothers having been the main cause of any such rifts that formed. Given Ivar's status as a beta, surely his brother Ubbe would have been a better choice but perhaps Aethelred had been taught a little too well. Perhaps he knew better even than Ivar how to survive this life. How to choose a strong and intimidating mate.

Of course, the daughter he bore with Hvitserk didn't help much either.

That little girl was first to arrive and she brought much light to both Aethelred and Hvitserk's lives. With her golden hair and her blue eyes; taking the best parts of each parent and becoming an elegant yet incredibly capable young woman, now, at seventeen. Long past are the days when she would sit on Hvitserk's shoulders and knock him on the head with her carved, wooden sword. Now, she stands by his side, shoulder to shoulder. Very tall for her age.

Needless to say, when Ivar comes up beside her, eyes narrowing as she pulls her cloak in closer to her, he can see she is hiding something.

"Uncle Ivar." She begins, turning her head to look at him, a genuine smile beaming. Her long, braided hair looking, for all to see, the exact same as Hvitserk's. "If you are here to buy furs, there is no need. My father said he would have more by the next full moon."

"I was actually looking for my sons. We are playing a game, you see, and I would hate to lose." Ivar treads the ground, steadying himself as he tilts his head. "What are you hiding, huh?" Blue eyes shift to her cloak and up again to her face, one hand slowly reaching out to part the material.

"If there is something I am hiding, it is not one of your sons." Allowing the two pieces of long, green fabric to fall aside, something is indeed revealed but it isn't so much a child. Yet. For her belly shows only the first signs of life growing inside.

"You are with child." Ivar's eyes widen but he allows her to pull the cloak tight again, concealing her secret. "I hope it was your choice or one of the alphas here will lose his cock today."

Looking down, she blushes. And that is everything Ivar needs to know. It was conceived in love.

"He says he wants to marry me but I don't know how to tell my father or Aethelred about this." Arms close in, tight and protective, around herself and Ivar takes a breath, having seen the gesture before when Aethelred was carrying his boys. The fingers that had so gently revealed the truth now catch beneath her chin just as softly and Ivar's gaze is filled with nothing but promise.

"We will tell them together, if that is what you want." He lets it sit for a moment before humming. "But for now, I must ask if you have seen my sons."

Nothing comes for free with him and his niece laughs, one hand coming out to grasp around the leather brace on his wrist. "I saw Baldur running towards the long house."

"Thank you." Giving her forehead a kiss, Ivar slips past her, stake on the bottom of his crutch picking up the soft dirt of the trodden path leading to the long house. Two guards move aside for him when he arrives and goes inside.

A child's laughter faintly rings out before Ivar allows himself to be heard, very obviously, coming in. Low fires burn, giving the room an orange glow but also keeping it warm against whatever chill might still hang in the air from winter. Hvitserk is to the right, sleeping off the mead from their feast the night before and, at the end, upon the throne to the left, sits Aethelred.

His robes are typically saxon; the way it has always been. It's one of the things Ivar has come to admire most about his omega, really. That sense of stubbornness that's even more brutal than his own. He approaches but Aethelred doesn't even look up from the small pile of papers upon his lap.

To the right side of the throne, a very definite shape is covered by Aethelred's cloak and a pair of feet stick out. 

That will be Baldur.

"Husband," Ivar begins, coming to stop a few feet from the steps up to the thrones. "Have you seen our son?"

"Which one, Ivar? We have four." Aethelred's voice is nonchalant, as though anything in the world would be more interesting than answering such a silly question. But anyone with eyes could see he is amused.

"I think you know exactly which one, Saxon." No spite comes with the name and Ivar even sees Aethelred smile with his down-turned eyes. While waiting for the answer, though, Ivar takes his time to look around falsely, leaning to search behind this pillar and that before, after a short moment, Aethelred's cloak giggles.

Though he tries to shush the small boy, Aethelred can't stop himself from showing his husband just exactly where their son is.

"Huh. Strange. It sounds like my son Baldur is laughing at me. Did you hear it?" Carefully, Ivar approaches once again, taking the steps one at a time. Slowly, slowly. As he nears, Baldur lets out another giggle.

"No. Perhaps it is only your imagination, King Ivar." And with that, Aethelred lifts his head, using the full power of his heavy blue eyes to draw his mate in close. It works, of course, and they're very soon face to face, feeling one another's breaths.

"Well, then, as we are alone, I don't see anything wrong with a kiss."

Mere thought of a touch is halted, however, when Baldur throws the cloak aside to reveal himself. His perfect face is scrunched into a sneer that amuses not one but both of his parents as they part. The noise he makes is one of disgust but before he can run, Ivar snatches him up by the waist and lifts him with one arm, planting a solid kiss on the crown of his little boy's black hair. Wriggling, Baldur pushes at his father's chest, wanting to escape and, once he's let down, his legs carry him away as fast as the wind now gathering up outside.

"You're not hiding anything else from me, are you? Huh?" Though in the past such a question would have come from insecurity, now it only comes from Ivar's need to sit, for peace and his legs' sake.

"Not today, Ivar. No."

"Thank the gods." He sits, heavily, down on his father's throne and sighs. Being one step ahead of everyone has been exhilarating for as long as he can remember but, now, knowing about Hvitserk's daughter's child, it only feels like a burden.

One that Aethelred can all-too-readily see upon his face.

"Are you well, love?" Large, tender hand falls to Ivar's forearm and he feels the reassuring squeeze of Aethelred's silent promise to listen to whatever may be bothering him. But only if he wishes to share.

"Yes. I am well enough. It is only... I have spoken to your daughter and I think it would be wise for you to do the same. Without my brother. Knowing Hvitserk he will jump to conclusions." Ivar gestures, idly.

"Conclusions about what?" Aethelred sits forward, brows furrowing as he moves the parchments from his lap to the floor. "What has happened, Ivar?"

"You will have to speak to her. I swore I would say nothing in exchange for her telling me where the boys were. That is all."

For a long moment, Aethelred blinks and then he sits back, having decided in his mind to speak to his daughter before evening. "So you cheated?" Is the next question that comes out and Ivar laughs beside him.

"Of course I did. It was a game I was not prepared to lose."

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 7, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Protection.

Notes: idk when i started writing smut so willy nilly but here it is, another fuckening. Pretty big warning though: dubious consent. It’s clearly consensual later on but at first there is no given consent. WC: 6.8k

+

He had yet to leave your side, taking you with him in every which direction as he, in his own words, marketed himself. It was a process that consisted of being charming and making witty jokes; simple things that had people trusting him. You stood mostly silent beside him, wringing your hands, stuck in distant thoughts. If anyone referred to you, you didn't notice.

They did, though––but if anyone asked about you, Ahk would make up a quick explanation, one he knew you wouldn't mind.

Your silence was originally your constant state, traipsing about the palace with a chain keeping you at Ahk's side. Over the short course of time between Amun first awakening and coming to stay with the Persian nomads, he had already grown used to your laughing, the snide comments always on your razor-sharp tongue, and that lively spark that filled your eyes whenever your heart thumped in your chest.

"You're quiet," he murmured as the two of you walked. You gripped reins in your hand, keeping your camel with all your bags beside you.

"I don't... like travelling with people," you said through gritted teeth, side-eyeing a group of whispering friends to your left.

"It's safer, isn't it?"

"For you," you mumbled bitterly.

"Oh, you're above joining in a caravan?" He said with a teasing lilt.

"I am simply experienced in this," you said, sure to speak under your breath, "and I know how to take care of myself."

Due to the size and needs of a caravan such as Mahud's, you would need to stop thrice a day, each time setting up a little bit of a home at the riverside. Inbetween those breaks, your legs ached with a familiar burn. Long walks had been your staple for a long while. Though your long break from the lifestyle had left you a little out of shape, your previous experience allowed you to navigate your way back in without too much trouble.

Ahk was taking the physical exertion overall well, despite his aching hunger. The stops would allow him to eat, a fact he was very happy to learn, going by the massive grin on his face when you pointed it out. At a few points he was partial to complaining, but always ceased if you glared at him.

The next stop for the slow-moving caravan was by an outcropping stream flowing from the Nile and out into the desert, allowing a small oasis to grow further from the river itself. Although there appeared to be no fruits growing on the tall trees, a few men and women took up nets and spears, wading out into the water to look for fish.

Numbness filled up your legs as you collapsed on the ground, leant against your camel who had also drawn to its' knees. Heat had already pooled in your face and in your feet, burning from the long day, and ready for anything to drink.

"Here," Ahk said as he rounded a bush, kneeling beside you in your shady, isolated spot.

He handed a cup to you, filled with hot tea. Not the most satisfying drink, but it was safest, and you dutifully sipped away. As you watched the other travellers Ahk shifted his position, scooting nearer to you and pressing himself to your side. Instantly his heat began to overcrowd your senses.

"Ahk, it's too hot for me to be touching anyone," you said, shifting away with your back to him.

You probably should've expected him to pull you into him and keep you there, which made you feel all the more foolish when he did it anyway and you didn't expect it at all.

"Ahk..." you whined, half suffocated by his arms wrapping tight round your chest, his face buried in the back of your neck.

"Mmm," he hummed as he took all of you in, nuzzling you with his nose. "I am... tired."

"I'd be astounded if you weren't, but you can't sleep. It's still day and we won't stay here long," you said matter-of-factly, pushing his face away from you.

"I'll just keep you here," he decided, his voice muffled through the fabric of your shirt. "Sleep forever."

"Right," you said, rolling your eyes.

You wormed out the moment he loosened his grip, much to his disappointment.

By nightfall the distant murmurs of a city sounded from ahead, blurred with singing crickets and the steady flow of the Nile beside you. Ahk had spent the rest of the day trying to cheer you up, mostly with bad jokes, but the sentiment was nonetheless there. Still, being surrounded by people for the past fourty-six hours had already taken its' toll. You hardly spoke, your chest felt caved in on itself, and your eyes were trained on the ground below you.

The city ahead, while heralding certainly crowded streets and filled taverns, would suffice as a hospice away from people who had come to learn your name. Whispering in your ear, Ahk informed you this was the city Piye had wanted the two of you to stay at for a little while. If things got worse, you'd move further south, and if they got better, you would return north down the nile.

While at first you tried to sneak away without Mahud noticing, Ahk insisted on giving the man a proper good-bye, and backed this up with the fact that you had been lent a camel. You wouldn't be able to take it with, but it was still a nice consideration for the trip to Aswan.

"We'll be stopping here," Ahk said once Mahud's attention was on the two of you. "We're to meet a friend soon."

"Ah, then I wish you safe travels," said Mahud, patting Ahk on the shoulder with a firm hand.

"Thank you. To you and your family as well. Will you be staying here tonight?" Ahk asked as he gestured to the outer markets of the city, filled with traders who came from far away to make their living, and couldn't afford a roof over their heads.

"I believe so. Tomorrow we make our money and head off again."

"Good luck to you then," Ahk said, silently urging you to say your own farewell.

"Good-bye," you said quietly, bowing your head respectfully.

As you entered the outer rim of the city, the first thing you noticed was the quiet. It wasn't all that late––the sun had set only a little while ago, and it always did that much earlier in the day during the colder months. So you kept your footsteps quiet, instructing Ahk to do the same when he didn't pick up on the eerie silence.

With no one around to direct you every which way, you had to rely off what memory you had of Aswan, as little as it was. You had visited several times, but never for very long. Most of the city was still unexplored to you.

The long light of burning torches cast itself upon the street in front of you, approaching from around the house to your right. Instantly you were darting for cover, hiding the whole of your body behind a large barrel, while you watched Ahk look around the corner.

"Ahk, you fucking idiot, get over here," you hissed, the pounding in your heart begging him to listen to you.

He looked over his shoulder, finding you mostly-hidden, and quickly made to do the same. His spot was on the opposite side of the street, guarded by a practical wall of broken-down stalls. Once Ahk was fully secured you slipped back behind the barrel, calming your quickened breath as footsteps passed you by, numbering somewhere in the tens.

Only when you were fully assured that whoever passed you was not coming back, you joined Ahk in the middle of the road and continued onwards.

"Did you get a look at them?" You asked immediately.

"Yes, but... I'm not sure if I actually saw what I saw," he said, his brow furrowed intensely.

"What does that mean?"

"They had these.. heads on them, feathered and beaked, with massive eyes. Fucking jacked, too," he muttered, pausing to check both ways before crossing the next street.

"Like your Gods?" You asked.

"Like Horus," he said with a nod. "What on Earth are they here for?"

"Just guessing right now, but they might have something to do with you."

He took your hand, and after a long while of searching the streets, you found yourself at the step of a tavern whose lights had long gone out. Again, strange; neither of you remarked upon it, but you did turn to each other with dubious eyes. The smell of mead still came from it, not yet soured or rotten.

Ahk took a cautious step forward, reaching for the door and easily pushing it open. Inside there was the expected darkness, surrounding the knocked-down chairs, broken tables, and spilt beer. Both of you stopped, your shadows stretching before you on the wooden floor as you scanned the whole of the abandoned room. The bar, where you were sure there was once an attendant, was left unmanned and covered in shattered cups, sticky with sweetened alcohol.

The door behind you swung shut, making you whip around. Fortunately it was only Ahk letting go of the door, leaving it to join you nearer to the center of the room, where you could try and peer over the counter.

"Um..." you said.

"Good evening," said a voice, accompanied soon by a man popping out from behind the bar. "How may I help you?"

"Uhhh.. what... what, uh, happened here?" Ahk asked, his expression contorted as he glanced around the room.

"Nasty Egyptian soldiers. They've wrecked up the place, and every time I fix it they come back in and ruin it, so I stopped fixing it. The party's upstairs, if that's what you're after," he said with a too-bright grin on his face.

"Really? And they don't notice that you're up there?"

"Well, they are bird brains," the man said as he leant in, though spoke in a much quieter voice.

"Wait, are they the soldiers with the bird heads on them?" Ahk asked as a revelation came to him.

"Yes, sir. Where've you been?"

"Travelling for the last couple days. How long have they been here?"

"About a week or so now," said the man, looking away as he recalled. "Heard they're crawling all over the other cities, too. So you folks want a room?"

"... sure," you said in a quiet, low voice when Ahk failed to answer.

He handed you a wooden coin with a symbol engraved with fire, informing you that the door with the same symbol was yours. There were no locks and he made sure to tell you that, as well. After offering to carry your bags and earning a 'no,' from you, he pointed you up the stairs, and returned to his spot hidden beneath the bar.

"Odd man," Ahk whispered to you as you climbed the steps.

"Ahk!" You scolded, hitting his shoulder. "We're still in earshot."

How the Horus soldiers hadn't managed to find this place was beyond either of you, as the moment you entered the upper floor you were bombarded with the tunes of dancing music, twirling and playing with the veins of each listener. The thick scent of searing meat filled the whole of the room, rivalled only by the scent of sloshed beer. Most of the food and drink came from a single corner, where a large cask of beer had been set up alongside a furnace, where the one manning the food also managed the distribution of drink.

All around you, people sat and stood, dancing in the middle or resting on the sidelines. Every crate and usable chair was taken up, most people taking seats on the floor instead in great groups of public conversation. You instinctively grew closer to Ahk, trying to keep as far away from others as you could, even as he began to wade through the crowd.

"Hey, don't you think it's a little loud in here? Won't the soldiers find us?" Ahk asked a random stranger, who had happened to stand as the two of you passed her by.

"Egyptian soldiers are hardly valued for their intelligence, young man," she said with a knowing chuckle, before continuing on to the bar.

"Told you," you murmured in his ear as you watched her disappear in the crowd.

"Oh, shut up."

After setting away your bags and manually jamming the door, you rejoined the party on the second floor, partaking in what food and drink you could afford. Piye had given you a good deal of money, but you had no way of knowing how many days or months you would have to stretch that amount across. It was better to keep a good eye on your finances, something Ahk didn't know much about, and left in your capable hands. Though, that hardly stopped him from complaining.

"We got more food when we were staying with Mahud," he whined, his cheek squished against your shoulder.

"That's because it didn't cost any money," you said.

"You are a cruel lover."

"I am, but this has nothing to do with that since we are not lovers."

"We're not?"

"No," you stated, leaning your head back against the wall with closed eyes. "We are, at best, accomplices."

There was no ignoring the sudden change in his energy. He grew quiet, as he so rarely did, and hardly moved to breathe.

As he sulked, you took care to remind yourself of what he was capable of––the strange things he'd said to you, even if they weren't entirely harmful, that had set you in a month-long mood of unease.

"You will stay here. Any attempt on your behalf to leave and I will have to punish you. Understand?"

"Then I am a prisoner," you said, your voice hoarse and broken.

"You are what you make yourself," he said in a much more stern tone, looking down at you with knowing, wary eyes. "If it is a prisoner, then so be it. But you will be, throughout all actions and situations, mine."

"I..."

"You belong to me."

He had not relented in his usage of that claim. In times of peace, in political unrest, he had kept you with him. In times of great bounty, of danger and uncertainty, you had not left him once, and you wondered how sick you would've gotten if you were to go back in time and tell your freshly-met self that you would spend the longer half of a year with him.

You supposed that, in the end, you had joined his collection. The only catch was that it cost him everything else in his ownership, including his kingdom. And yet he seemed perfectly content to lean on your side, even if harsh words came before the silence, and to wait till you returned his affections.

As he touched your shoulder, his muscles went lax, letting him fall limp against you. The moment he intook your scent he was gone, hypnotized by his own adoration for you.

Though your mind fell into a quiet stupor, dancers still circled the room in beat with music. For a moment you wondered how they'd react if they found out the Pharaoh was in their midst.

Aswan was a very Egyptian-type city considering it was still within the borders of Nubia. That meant less worker camps, less fear of Egyptian soldiers, and less knowledge on the impact the Pharaoh stressed upon higher up Nubian cities. Keeping that in mind, you assumed they would try to cozy up to him––spend some of his riches, flirt a little––however it was also possible they worshipped Amun and had already heard of Ahk's treason.

Music began to fade from your mind as the faint sound of footsteps sounded from below you, seeping through the cracks in the mud and wood. They appeared more succinctly the closer you listened, and soon you could identify the number, all marching in unison.

"Ahk," you shook him awake, eyes trained intensely on the floor, "we need to get out of here."

"What?" His sleepy face gave way for concern. "What? What's happening?"

"There's soldiers coming," you said, your grip on his arm tightening.

"Well – the man at the front said they come by every now and then. They haven't found the upstairs yet, they probably won't now," he said.

Muffled voices muttered from below the floor. Ahk opened his mouth to speak again, but you quickly silenced him with your hand, carefully tuning back into the conversation beneath you. A loud crash was followed by silence, and that combination had you jumping to your feet.

"What is it?" Ahk asked, much more panicked now that he noticed your own fear.

"They're coming upstairs," you said as you backed up through the crowd, disturbing those you bumped into.

"They're – oh fuck." Ahk's expression dropped. "The soldiers are coming!"

Ahk yelled his warning over the music, certainly loud enough to assure the soldiers that there were, in fact, people up here. Lutes and harps stuttered to a halt, the pounding of footsteps now clear through the walls.

Panic seized the partygoers. People trampled over one another reaching for their belongings casted aside, hurriedly adjusting them back onto their bodies and making for the windows. Like rats they climbed out, writhing over each other into a mass of fabric and limbs, followed eagerly by you and Ahk. Massive backpacks made it so you were the last out and the only two to see the soldiers yourselves.

The pounding door had you stuck in a trance, only able to back up towards the window. As it slammed open, you finally caught sight of the falcon-headed soldiers, their sharpened spears and sharper eyes, staring empty-minded at you as Ahk pulled you out the window.

"This way!" Came a voice from above you.

You and Ahk quickly looked up, finding a young woman offering you a hand from the rooftop. Ahk took no hesitation in grabbing it, allowing her to hoist him upwards. When he reached down to find your hand, he felt nothing, and panic struck his heart like a searing knife. He ducked his head down, watching the room upside down.

Muscled arms wrapped around your chest and face, blocking your mouth from making practically any sounds at all. The only sound you could make was from kicking your legs frantically.

He jumped back to his feet on the roof, spinning round to the woman who had helped him.

"I need a sword," he said in a rush, desperate eyes already begging.

"Um – ask Imar, I believe he has one," she said, pointing to the man who worked at the bar downstairs. Ahk thanked her in a rush and left.

"Imar!" He called as he jumped from one building's roof to another, approaching where most of the party-goers had gathered. "I need a sword, or a weapon of any sort. Crossbow even."

"I've got a sword, but I need it. There's a stock of axes over there. Don't know who they belong to, though, so take at your own discretion," he said. Ahk once more gave his thanks before running off.

The kink in your neck had only gotten worse the more you struggled, spiking pain down your spine and into your skull each time the soldier's golden bands pressed into the side of your neck. Your already travel-worn shoes were now nearly in shreds, pulling and pushing on the rough gravel roads, occasionally cutting the soles of your feet open. Thus far you had not been allowed to speak, one massive arm nearly cutting off your oxygen supply.

Although you couldn't tell for sure where they were dragging you, you assumed it was towards a temple, as the buildings around you slowly grew more complex and well-kept. A temple seemed a proper place where you could be thrown into whatever underworld Amun lived in.

Being a commodity fought over should've scared you more. There was a panic seizing your nerves, but you were numb to the surprise, instead saving your energy till you could outsmart the soldiers.

Squawking interrupted your harsh breathing, crying out from behind the falcon soldier. You opened your eyes to the dark of night, spying through the shadow-filled alleyway a running figure, followed by the heads of soldiers falling from the city's silhouette. It was then you recalled a very important fact––Amun and his soldiers might've been strong, but Ahk held within him a hunger unlike that of the starved. The hunger of the rich––of pigs and cannibals. A hunger that terrified you to your core.

The first soldier in your sight that emerged from the shadow of buildings soon stopped in its' tracks, tumbling down past its' own knees as the falcon head slipped off human shoulders. Your shocked eyes watched intently, darting upwards to see Ahk with a broad axe.

His blade came down on the last remaining soldier walking behind your captor, blood splurting from the veins and splattering on his face. Much of it landed on your foot, leaving a trail of red as you were dragged, legs still shakily kicking.

He held a finger up to his lips, hushing any muffled screams that might've come from you. Whatever he had planned, you let him do what he deemed necessary, and kept quiet to avoid the suspicion of the soldier restraining you. He raised his axe high above his head, as though he were to strike you down. Terror filled your eyes when the blade came screaming down, splitting the soldier's head in two before it could ever reach you, leaving no mark on you but the pouring blood of the falcon head. The grip on you loosened, and as you pushed yourself away the corpse fell to the ground.

Blood and nerves squelched as Ahk tore the weapon out of the skull, a horrible crack resonating in the empty street when the base of the skull finally split. He panted, droplets of blood falling into his open mouth as he turned to you, eyes frozen and wide.

"You alright?" He asked softly, in a tone so out of character from his current state.

"... yeah," you breathed out.

The axe clattered onto the ground, followed shortly by Ahk falling to his knees. From there he crawled the short distance to you, gently wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulling you into his lap. He buried himself in your neck, hid away in your warmth. The blood covering his midsection soaked through your shirt.

"Ahk, we need to leave, you know there's more of them," you said, though you did not cease in stroking his hair.

"I know," he mumbled, pressing himself tighter to you for a moment before releasing. "They didn't hurt you?"

"Nothing but bruises," you huffed. "Let's go."

You kept near the entrance to the tavern as Ahk wandered back inside, checking behind the counters and in the attic for any trace of the fleeing people. From the roof you could hear muttering, though you couldn't see anyone, and you could vaguely make out the words they were saying.

"Are you the one they're looking for?" A woman asked.

"I did anger an Egyptian god, yes," Ahk said with a curt nod.

"Imar!"

The man from the downstairs bar appeared from over the horizon of another tall rooftop. He was drenched in sweat, practically glowing in the dim moonlight.

"Yes?"

"These are the ones they want," she said, gesturing to Ahk.

"Really?" He said as he dusted his hands off. "The hell did you do?"

"I, um, attacked a God in order to save my.. um... Amoke," he answered rather sheepishly.

"You cannot stay here," Imar said firmly.

"I'm sorry, but we have many other people looking for protection. We will not risk them for two people who have private business with whatever kind of God you worship," the woman said.

"I understand. Keep safe. Do you have any ideas on where we could go for the night?"

"Try the old graves up on the hill. They hate desecrating the dead," she said before sending Ahk back off down the stairs.

Footsteps drummed for a moment before the door swung open, revealing the Pharaoh still covered in blood. By now it had dried, leaving much of it to flake off his clothes and skin, now a muddy brown instead of the vibrant red of before.

"Have you ever slept in a grave before?"

"What?"

You had expected him to ask, considering what you heard of the conversation, but you weren't wholly convinced he would actually allow himself to sleep in a tomb.

"A long while ago, I died for a little while. Well, I guess not that long ago. Two or three years. My brother killed me," he began as he started off down the steps, taking you with him as he directed you through the streets, "and I was buried. Piye returned from their banishment shortly after and dug me out of my grave... used their gift to give me life once more."

"... you're really expecting me to believe that?" You asked, almost ready to burst out laughing.

"You saw Amun come to life. There are flowers growing out of your arms. What part of my story is unbelievable to you?"

"Right," you mumbled. "Good point. So... did you sleep in that grave or something?"

"It's complicated, but I was conscious for some time, locked underground. Not Piye's magic. Khonsu's, I believe. Either way, it's not horrid if you have someone with you," he said, patting you on the back with a smile.

"Did you have someone with you?"

His expression fell, the hand on your shoulder going with it.

"I did," he said softly, offering no more than a bittersweet twitch of his smile.

Ahk caught it before you did––the trampling of numbered footsteps, growing steadily louder the closer you came to the upcoming street. You remained within your own thoughts, plagued by questions, and mostly ignorant to the slowing of his pace. Eventually he had to grab your hand, forcing you to hide behind the shadow of a tall building. You opened your mouth to say something, but he set his hand over your mouth, staring at you with an intensity that had terrified you only a little while earlier.

"They're coming," he mouthed in your ear, breath barely passing his lips as he spoke.

Steps grew louder and he pressed himself against you, squishing you to the wall with his chin on your shoulder. Pressure tightened around your chest, constricted your breathing, hastened the beat of your heart as you relied solely on your hearing.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

The clattering of armor, weapons, and shields rang through the marching steps, sending the imagery of shining, sharpened stone and arrows glinting in the moonlight.

"We need to go," he said beneath his breath.

Before you could ask what he meant, his hand encircled your wrist once more, pulling and forcing you down the other side of the alley. Chirps and squawks came from behind, making your pulse rush and swell beneath your skin. They would find you––bird brains though they were, they were still soldiers of a God, with eyes adapted for darkness. They would pull you into their hell and murder your... your Ahk.

Your Ahk.

You arrived back in your body when Ahk turned into an open, empty street, running uphill as he trained his sights on the tomb-filled mountains.

"We're not actually going to stay in a grave, are we?!" You asked as you ran, trying desperately to keep up with the long strides of the former Pharaoh.

"It is our safest bet," he said, tightening his grip on you. You still attempted to squirm out, however fruitless your struggle, and the proceeding panic had you soaked entirely in fear.

He kept you running till your legs burned, till he was fumbling over his own steps, too full of adrenaline to fully control his feet. Pebbles, rocks, and dust filled your sandals, scratching at your skin as it clung to your sweat. Your throat was still too tight to take in enough breath, leaving you part-way wheezing. Soon your own legs began to give way, scraping your knees and palms across rough dirt.

"Come, up," Ahk muttered as he helped you back to your feet, casting wary glances towards the city still ringing with the cries of falcons.

A few more minutes of scrambling up unused paths and you came to the foot of the hill, where the first graves had been set up. The long tunnels led into darkness, to a place you had never been before, where death would paint every wall. Few things in life truly terrified you––death was not among them, but the cruel afterlife of the Egyptians did. The tales you'd heard of the spells necessary to memorize, the weapons, the escorts, the protective magic one needed to have to brave what they called Duat had done that to you.

He didn't take to the first grave you saw, whose door was sealed shut from the outside with rope and wood. In fact he took you past halfway up the hills till he finally found a hole in which to hide, shoving you into the overwhelming darkness, and shutting the door partway.

All that you could hear was the trembling of your own breath, echoing in the empty, dank chamber. Despite the chilling cold the ground beneath you seemed wet, as though it had rained within the earth.

Clicking came from somewhere in front of you. Instinctively you pressed yourself against the wall, surprised to find not a cave wall but a carved granite wall. A flame burst before you as you realized this, revealing the whole of the cave, each wall covered in paintings of life and magic. Hieroglyphs lined every scene, rivalled only by the collection of yellow and white stars painted onto the lapis ceiling.

Your eyes scanned the walls around you and the ceiling, wandering down the pillars and towards the dirt floor. Across from you, Ahk leant his back against the wall, a flicker of light dancing on cloth ripped from his skirt. Now the material covered only the upper half of his thighs, leaving little to your imagination as he drew nearer to you.

"I'm afraid Nubian graves don't quite compare to the luxury of Egyptian graves," he said, setting his hand on your knee and running it up your thigh.

"When will we leave?"

"When our hunger becomes too great."

Ahk might've had good impulse control and lots of self control, but you did not.

"That'll be in days!"

"You're not very patient, are you?"

"Not when I'm stuck in a fucking tomb!"

"Screaming won't do you any favors, Amoke," he reminded you with a quirk of his brow.

Though you hardly had the consciousness of mind to recognize what he was doing, his hands had set to separating your legs, wedging himself inbetween them instead.

"I don't think the volume of my voice has anything to do with our predicament," you said scathingly, crossing your arms and turning away.

"Well, no, but you will hurt your voice. And my ears. This is a small room."

He had a point, but you were adamant in your decision to avoid his gaze. So instead you looked to the floor, your arms still crossed, and a small pout on your lip. Your eyes widened as you felt warmth on your neck, soft and somewhat wet. Ahk was kissing at your neck, one hand dangerously high on the inside of your thigh and the other squeezing your waist, in the middle of a tomb.

"What the hell are you doing?" You asked, beginning to worm in his grasp. The curt movements soon turned to struggle, your heart racing as he simply held you tighter, biting harsher at your neck.

"I could've lost you so easily today," he said softly between the ministrations of his lips.

"Amun almost kidnapped me, too, and you didn't act l –" he bit down and you gasped, "like this."

He simply chuckled and continued.

"I wanted to," he admitted after a moment. "He had no right to do anything to you. I've already lay claim."

"What?"

"You're mine. I found you first." Motions began to grow rougher, hands tightening on you as kisses became hurried and desperate. "My beautiful little toy... I won't let you go, never."

"Ahk, we're in a grave," you said, attempting to pull his hands off you.

In one swoop his hands caught yours, pinning them above your head. The weight of his body still rested between your legs, keeping them apart, and allowing him access to push and grinded himself against you. His strained breathing kept your shuffling feet company, a distraction from the heat welling in your stomach.

"Ahk..."

"You are a most beautiful sight," he murmured against your flushed skin. "Truly fit to be a god yourself."

The fear rushing through your blood was one unfortunately familiar––that same fear when you first met him. When he tied you to his bed for hours. When he stood above you with angered eyes, scanning the whole of your over-exposed body.

"This isn –"

"You told me you didn't love me... do you remember that?"

"... yes," you said, still unable to meet his eyes even as he pulled away to look you in the face.

"Then I suppose I have nothing to lose," he murmured, leaning into gift the softest of kisses, barely gracing the bow of your lip, "as all I want in this realm is your love."

"And what of your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is my duty. I do not enjoy ruling, but it is something I must do for the safety of families who now rely on a government to protect them. You, however..." he trailed off for a moment, biting into his bottom lip with a grin, "... you I enjoy very much."

A quick kiss to your lips and he resumed what he started, letting your entwined hands fall in favor of feeling you. His touch slipped up your shirt, feeling the heat of your skin until it grew too much to bear, and he began untying the knots of your clothes. Once he pulled the fabric off your shoulders, he leant back to pull his own coat off. The space gave you ample time to wriggle out of his weakened grasp, though you barely raised to your feet before he grabbed your ankle, pulling you back down and scuffing you in the process.

You turned onto your back, watching with heavy, quickened breaths as he pulled you to him till your hips met, hands and piercing eyes pinning you into place. For a split second an image flashed before your eyes––rope in his hand, silk beneath you, and a servant watching it happen. You shook your head to clear it away, opening your eyes in time to see him lay you flat on the earth.

"I love you," he murmured with a reverence so deep you could swear there were tears welling in his eyes. The hands on your hips slowly ran up your waist and over your chest, squeezing and teasing your senses. "Beautiful..."

He dipped down, like a hand of God descending from heaven to grasp the unholy that sits beneath. Kisses landed on your sternum, trailing up towards your neck, where his nipping teeth had already left dark marks. Unsure what to do with yourself, you let your hands sit above your head and allowed him to do as he pleased.

"I have waited forever to indulge in you," he said, the heat of his words beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flew open.

Haji warned you about this––or maybe it was Naguib, but he didn't seem to like you all that much. Either way, you recalled a spare bit of information given to you concerning the Pharaoh; he might've originally locked you in the castle to have his heirs. Was this what he was doing? Giving into what he'd first taken you for?

"Will you give me this?" He asked, inches away from your face, your leg kinked up upon his hip.

"What?"

"The easiest form of love," he said through a crack in his voice. From here you could clearly see what you'd spied earlier––tears. "I cannot seem to win your personal love. But I will take anything you give me, and I want this."

"... what?"

He ground his hips into yours, till you could clearly and distinctly feel something hard pressing against you. A soft groan fell from him. Part of you already knew what he meant, but another part was still stunned into stupidity, your wide eyes nothing but empty.

"I need you," he murmured.

Even with all the thoughts in your head, you couldn't manage a single word. Your mouth hung open, gasping when stimulated, but mostly silent with your own confusion. There was an appeal to Ahkmenrah––his beauty, his intelligence, his humor. Quite the array of good traits even without the fact that he held massive amounts of power, or did at one point. Yet you still couldn't let go of what you'd seen him do. It loomed over you like an eclipse, blocking your thoughts and stilling your mind in its' presence.

He didn't have the strength within him to stop himself. He would need your ardent refusal, even though he knew silence was a quiet no, to regain his control. It was a funny thing, seeing him so desperate––a man as composed as him, as aware of himself as him would be remiss to be such a shameful sight.

And it was you.

You driving a Pharaoh to his knees. You taking a man whose very essence was his control over his identity and tearing his image apart. Making him a devil in his people's eyes. You weren't even asking him to ruin himself, to take himself apart just to appeal to you even in the slightest––he was doing that himself. Willingly.

Your chest felt concave upon itself as he continued, numb to the realizations in your head. He pulled off your skirt, the ties in your clothes, till both of you were nude, him still locking your body to the ground. From this angle he could thrust against you, almost fucking your thighs as your wetness grew. Gasps and moans built in your mouth despite your efforts to keep an even expression. He delighted in your own embarrassment, laughing when you squirmed with your eyes shut tight and a hot blush on your face.

"Gods, you are... perfect," he said, devolving into a long, soft moan as the head of his cock began to prod at your entrance.

A rush of excitement––or perhaps just the simpler anticipation––ran through you, and you couldn't stop the sounds that left you as he pushed in. He stretched you, filled you perfectly, and for a moment you wondered if you had been denying yourself a taste of bliss. 

As he kissed you, bitter iron filled your mouth and painted your tongue. At first you wondered if he had bitten too hard (or if you had), but in a short time you realized it was the dried blood, still caked onto his face and body.

Blood passing between your lips. Mingling with your breaths and moans. It became hard to distract yourself with the forceful thrusts of the Pharaoh above you, your mind instead set fierce upon your sense of taste, and the watchful, hooded eyes Ahk looked down on you with.

He soon noticed your sudden daze, and his thrusts slowed down, going deep instead of fast.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, though he didn't stop his movements entirely.

Your wetness squelched slightly, making you shut your eyes tight with embarrassment, your arms coming to hide your face from sight. Of course, Ahk was having none of that––he took your arms, carefully pinning them to either side of your head.

"A little shy, are you?"

"... this is my first time," you finally mumbled, turning away so you wouldn't have to see his reaction.

"Oh."

He stopped grinding into you. But you couldn't help yourself––you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him back into you and moaning when he was fully sheathed.

"Fuck," he groaned, eyes rolling up into his head. "Perfect little pet."

He pinned you to the floor as he finished, keeping you from scrambling away. There he kept you, warm on his cock, filling you with his seed as you whined helplessly.

Although he made an effort to take care of you, gently stroking your skin and kissing away what marks he made, the whole of the day left you both exhausted, and the bout of 'exercise' certainly hadn't helped. In the end you asked him to stop worrying and simply sleep at your side; he acquiesced, using his arm as a pillow as he faced you.

"Still hate me?" He asked, and though they would've been teasing words out of anyone else's mouth, you found sincerity in his expectant eyes.

"No."

[hellishhin]

The Ball: Part 1

Length: ~2,500 words

Content warnings: alcohol consumption, mild knife threats

Summary: Sadie, Kireen, and K'lai'a'la have arrived at Taerand's ball. They meet new people who are a bit more than they bargained for.

Taglist: (adds/removes always open!) @betwixtofficial @taerandcalentavar @talesfromaurea @faelanvance @definitelyquestionit @drippingmoon @dontcrywrite

The doors were open wide, allowing a lilting melody to drift toward them on the cool dusk breeze. Against the darkening sky, Ser Calentavar’s manor stood resolute. As the second largest building in Stawold, the manor’s half-timbered framework was filled in by mortar and rubble for most of the first floor. Above the sturdy base of stone, the beautifully aged timbers were filled with wooden planks painted a warm creamy white which served to protect the wood from the elements. Only the Margrave’s manor stood larger than Ser Calentavar’s as most of the lesser buildings in town had their timbers filled in with wattle and daub, most painted a plain white. What truly set Ser Calentavar’s manor apart was the full stone tower soaring above the third story. It was only large enough to contain a single room but was still a sight to behold among the wood and daub of Stawold.

Sadie looked up at the tower as the three women made their way down the cobbled street. She had awoken from her resurrection in the highest room in Stawold and yet he called it his guest room. He must hold his guests in high regard.

A gruff but polite request for their invitations pulled her mind away from the tower. Sadie reached into the bosom of her long rose-pink dress for the parchment. This dress was one of her favorites. She had hand-stitched some flowers across the hem. It was nothing impressive but it was the nicest dress she had.

Kireen handed over her and K’lai’a’la’s invitations as K’lai’a’la stood just behind them, ready to bolt.

“You look lovely tonight, ladies. Have a nice evening,” the guard kept the letters, tossing them into a basket behind him.

Kireen nodded and adjusted her deep blue gown, smoothing it down across her thighs. The embroidery along the sleeves and hem placed her quite comfortably among the crowd as they entered the main hall.

“Behave yourselves. K’lai’a’la, just stand off to the side if you must but you will not attack anyone for any reason. Nobody is going to hurt you. Sadie, supposedly you are familiar with these people so I trust you know how to behave yourself,” Kireen’s sigh said otherwise.

The over-excited halfling took that as her cue and she flounced into the party. Immediately, faces she recognized were greeting her. Jorgga Enteildotr, a very skilled seamstress approached and complimented her dress. Sadie knew it was mostly a nicety as her handiwork was nothing like Jorgga’s. Also in attendance was Otoc Alfandrson, a priest of Armorn the Protector; Alsteit Quinte, an artist whose work is seen in several noble houses in Stawold; and finally, Sadie is stopped in her path to the dessert table when she saw an older man with carefully combed silver hair. Draped in a royal blue silk tunic with golden trim it would be clear to anyone that this man is a part of the high nobility. A further step beyond that, Sadie was able to recognize him as Emmerich Hallgrimursson, the Margrave of Stawold.

Quickly looking around the room, she also spotted Hrimi Thaftheson and Thori Bjornison and almost all of the Margrave’s court! Never did she expect a ball to have both her name and the Margrave’s on the same invite list. Almost vibrating with excitement she turned back to find Kireen but found Ser Calentavar approaching her with a polite smile.

Kireen watched Sadie for a moment until her small stature disappeared among the skirts and cloaks of the crowd. There were no threats here, so the one she was actually worried about was K’lai’a’la who was stuck to her arm, nearly shoving her off her feet. K’lai’a’la had wanted to go with Sadie, Kireen saw that much as she took two steps after her small friend but when the crowd blocked their view, K’lai’a’la retreated back to Kireen’s side.

That was better than her getting separated and losing her head. The elf didn’t have any weapons but that would not stop her from being a threat if she felt the need. Kireen’s concern flew from her mind as soon as she saw the Margrave in his fine silken clothes. She had not been in Stawold for more than a few months and she still would recognize that level of luxury anywhere. Taerand had not mentioned the Margrave would be in attendance.

She had only been at the party a handful of minutes and none of this made sense. She was sure their invitation to the ball would have something to do with his damned favor but why would his favor include the Stawold elite. Only herself, and maybe Sadie would be qualified for anything near political intrigue. But as usual she would be left waiting on Taerand’s whim for any further information. Kireen swiped a glass of mead from a passing servant and tried to look like she was enjoying herself.

***

“Good evening Ser Calentavar!” Sadie curtsied, giving him a friendly smile.

“Good evening Blaze, I am glad you could attend. You are still feeling well, I trust?”

“Right as a sunny day, all thanks to you. But I would be lying if I said I wasn’t still curious about how you did it.”

“Certainly, but a ball is no place to discuss such things,” his tone was still pleasant rather than chastising.

“Of course, you are absolutely right,” Sadie waved her hand through the air as if to chase the thoughts away. “You have put on a beautiful event tonight, thank you for inviting me.”

“After the favor you and your friends have done for me, you have earned your place here tonight. Please relax and enjoy yourself,” he gave her a polite nod and faded into the crowd.

Sadie liked Taerand. Something about him was mildly mysterious but she felt a connection to him after her resurrection. He seemed like perhaps, under his mask of professionalism, was a polite and caring man. Or perhaps that’s what she hoped. With a mental shrug, she continued to the dessert table which was tall enough she had to stand on her tiptoes to see what lay atop it. As she scooted along its length, deciding what she wanted, a servant approached and bowed low next to her.

“May I help make you a plate, miss?”

Sadie happily accepted he added everything she pointed out to her plate. Once her plate was piled with tarts, candied fruit, jellied pastries, and everything else one shouldn’t eat for dinner, she deftly wove her way back through the crowd. It wasn’t hard to find the tall dazzlingly red dragonborn with a terrified elf clutched to her sleeve. Coincidentally, Taerand was speaking to them as she approached.

“--reward for the service you provided me,” Taerand was saying.

“Then I hope to hear from you again,” Kireen replied, looking less annoyed and more resigned, nursing a half finished mead. Sadie silently offered her dessert plate to K’lai’a’la who examined it for a long time before carefully choosing a candied strawberry to sample. When her teeth stuck to the candy coating she wrinkled her nose and placed it back onto the plate making Sadie chuckle.

Taerand gave K’lai’a’la a glance that was almost pitying before he turned to leave. K’lai’a’la picked up on it and glared after him.

“Come on, let’s just enjoy ourselves. Did you see? Even the Margrave is here!” Sadie lifted her dessert plate to share with Kireen too but she declined when a man in a plain white tunic and a burgundy waistcoat strode up to them. He looked starstruck but also slightly out of place.

“Good evening, may I be so bold as to ask if you three are Ser Calentavar’s noble heroes?”

He was a fairly handsome man, a strong jaw offset by a muss of sandy-brown hair which looked like there was only a cursory attempt to tame it. What really set him apart was a pair of lovely blue eyes one could get lost in.

“Well that absolutely would be us: noble heroes of Stawold!” Sadie declared before either of her compatriots could speak. This caused the man to bow low before them.

“Then allow me to humbly introduce myself as Ser Brimir Bjarkansson. I am truly impressed by your deeds and I wish to hear the account first hand, if that is acceptable.”

“Oh yes, I will gladly tell you of our peril-filled adventure to the Wraefen!” Sadie was in absolute heaven as she jumped into the story. Kireen soon went to find them some more drinks, leaving K’lai’a’la behind with Sadie.

***

The people all smelled strongly of flowers and spices, so much so she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Despite living inside the walls for some time, K’lai’a’la would never get used to all of the different scents that came along with the cage-dwellers. Their vibrant clothing was equally assaulting on her senses and yet she found herself among them, smelling and looking like she belonged. It was an insult. These people were weak, they could not hunt their food. It came to them on a shiny tray and so many of them got fat. This was no way to live and nothing could convince her otherwise.

It even hurt to see the small one enjoying it so much but after seeing her as a corpse, happy and talking would always be better than the alternative.

The men with the glittering glasses kept offering her drink. She had tasted one and Kireen had to take it from her before she threw it across the room. Everyone was drinking the poison all the time wherever her friends took her. She would never understand that either. What she did understand was the array of blades set out neatly near the roasted pig which smelled over-seasoned even from several strides away. If she could simply have one of those blades tucked away, she could feel safe because surely others had their own blades obscured by their endless folds of colored fabric.

Kireen was off getting a drink and Sadie was enjoying her drink and distracted by the over-bearing man who was enraptured by Sadie’s retelling of the forest. K’lai’a’la did not want to hear that story anyway. She had lived it. Pretending the other patrons were simply trees to walk through, she avoided each of them on her way to the food table. Nothing looked appetizing but she stared at it anyway. As she leaned over to pretend to get a better look, her hand clasped around the handle of a knife and drew it into the folds of her dress. Perhaps the cloth was useful for one thing. When she lifted her head, unusual motion drew her gaze to the far side of the room.

There she saw a man with brown hair and blue clothing standing closer than normal to a man with black hair and red clothing. The two were whispering to each other and the brown haired one looked around in a similar way she had looked around when she wanted to make sure no one saw her take the knife. K’lai’a’la did not like their behavior to begin with but then they both slipped through a nearby door. This was a concern. She wove her way through the crowd until she was close to the door, then she tried to make it look like she was enjoying the party. She swayed on her feet from side to side and carefully sidled up to the door to concentrate on listening for what was being said behind it.

***

The story had Brimir enraptured, Sadie could tell because he had finished two drinks in the time it took to tell it and it wasn’t a particularly long story.

“Miss Sadie, your recounting has absolutely flagerblasted me!” he tried to set his empty glass on top of an hors d'oeuvre tray of a passing servant. The poor servant just took the glass while somehow maintaining composure. “Might I ask you to dance?” he held out his hands down to her.

Sadie had finished a drink of her own and she giggled “well of course you may.”

Despite their height, Brimir began to dance where they were, not even bothering to take her to a more open space.

“May I say that you and your friends make me want to be a hero? I’ve dreamed of bein’ a hero. Adventures, swords fights, monsters. Can I join you? Next time?” his eyes were a bit glassy but his gaze was earnest. “I know how to wield a sword and all I want to do is help people. Protect the weak, defend the innocent! And just… be friends with someone.”

Everything he said resonated loudly throughout Sadie’s entire being “you are one of us Brimir. We are now officially your friends and we will all help people together!” She declared. Sadie has always been able to read people well and this man had a heart of gold. Boy was she glad Taerand invited him here. The gods were on her side tonight.

“Yes, Ser Brimir, you are officially part of the heroes and we are now officially your friends.”

Brimir let out a victorious whoop, getting the attention of some of the people nearby but before Sadie could apologize, Brimir started spinning her around in his exuberance. They spun and jumped and Sadie couldn’t keep track of where they were or where they were going. She was laughing though, just delighted by his excitement. She wanted to drink with him more often. But her delight was cut short when Brimir backed into something with a thud. The world stopped spinning just in time for her to see the beautiful blue and gold vase that she had previously admired teetering from the plinth Brimir had just bumped into.

Sadie gasped and backed away, instinctively shielding her eyes from the oncoming shatter. Hero Brimir, on the other hand, tried to catch the vase. Arms out-stretched the vase hit just the tips of his fingers but the sweat caused it to sail right through. The sound of ceramic shattering silenced the entire hall.

***

There was too much noise, too much talking. She could not hear what was being said behind the door even though she knew it was important. If she pressed her ear to the door she would be noticed so she just inched closer and closer until she was standing in front of it and still--nothing. K’lai’a’la ground her teeth in frustration until her focus was shattered by the sound of something breaking across the hall. Her head whipped around, as did everyone else’s. It didn’t take her long to spot the story-man standing near an empty pedestal looking deathly pale.

Just then, the door opened behind her, instinctively causing her to whirl around. She found herself face to face with the brown-haired man, her knife out and pointed at his chest. He grabbed her wrist tightly but she dropped the knife catching it with her free hand. She raised the blade to strike when Taerand’s voice cut across the silent hall,

“Enough.”

And she froze.

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