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starbright349 · 8 months

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You Didn't Know? (Adam X Seraphim Reader)

In the celestial realm of Heaven, where ethereal beauty and divine beings reigned, lived a Seraphim angel named (Y/N). She had the sacred duty of caring for the children who had passed away and ascended to this heavenly abode. (Y/N) was a compassionate and gentle soul, radiating a warm light that comforted the departed souls in her care.

In this divine paradise, an unexpected love story unfolded between (Y/N) and Adam, the first man created by the Almighty. Adam, despite being the progenitor of humanity, had a penchant for mischief and a reputation for being a total prick. Yet, somehow, the celestial forces intertwined their destinies, and love blossomed between the seemingly mismatched pair.

After a few hundred years of dating, the two got married in Heaven. It was a beautiful wedding, and Adam didn't have to worry about losing his third and final wife to Lucifer, since she couldn't leave Heaven.

One day. when Lucifer's Daughter, Princess Charlie Morningstar. Came into Heaven for a meeting; (Y/N), Sera, and Emily greeted her at the gates of Heaven. "Greetings daughter of the Morningstar. I am Sera, the high seraphim of Heaven. You're gifted to be here." Emily squealed and walked up to Charlie.

"Hi! I'm Emily, the other seraphim. You can call Em, Emi, E, whatever you want. I go by anything." Emily giggled nervously, she wanted to say more but (Y/N) stopped her and put her hand on Emily's shoulder. "Emily. We talked about this; we don't want to scare them off, now do we?" (Y/N) turned to Charlie. "Hello Princess. My name is (Y/N), I'm the other, other seraphim. It is our duty and pleasure to welcome you to Heaven."

(Y/N) and Emily showed Charlie and her girlfriend Vaggie around Heaven for a short while. (Y/N) even led and showed them to their room where they would be staying until the trail.

It wasn't until then that Charlie noticed her wedding ring, she found it strange since Sera, nor Emily had a ring. "(Y/N), may I ask you a question?" "Of course, Princess. Ask me anything?" (Y/N) said with a smile. "Are you married? Because I noticed that ring on your finger and none of the seraphim's have it." (Y/N) looked at her ring finger, she smiled as a wave of nostalgia hit her.

She remembered how Adam confessed his love to her, the day he proposed to (Y/N), and the day they got married. All of Heaven showed up, Adam removed his mask for that day, Sera walked (Y/N) down the aisle, Emily was her maid of honor, and God himself was the one that pronounced them husband and wife.

"Yes, I am married. My husband and I have been for about almost 100 years now." Charlie's eye lit up with joy, "Oh~. And who is this lucky guy, hm?" (Y/N) chuckled and walked to the door. "You'll see him, I'll be sitting next to him during the trail. Good luck to you both." (Y/N) said and closed the door behind her.

*A few hours later*

As the trail was about to start, Charlie and Vaggie took their seats, while (Y/N) flew and sat down next her husband Adam and his friend Lute. "Hey babe." Adam said and gave (Y/N) a kiss on her check. Charlie started to (Y/N) in shock, and all (Y/N) could give was a little smile and shrug her shoulders.

Charlie leaned to Vaggie. "I didn't know such an asshole like him HAD a wife."

After everyone was here Sera spoke "We're gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into heavenly realm by means of this 'Hazbin hotel', Princess Morningstar?", Sera said wanting Charlie to speak up.

(Y/N) looked down to Charlie, holding hands with her husband underneath the booth. "Webster's dictionary defines redemption as-" before Charlie could speak Adam interrupts her "Objection, lame and unoriginal". (Y/N) sighed at his immature behavior and let go of his hand and bumped his chest gently with her elbow.

"Sustained. No further dictionary references please." Sera asked with a kinda sad look. "Right." Charlie was flipping through her cards making Adam roll his eyes. "If you have actually evidence, then show it already." He asks, glaring at Charlie. "We have a patron right now and he's making incredible progress."

Charlie defended and (Y/N) smiled, "Really? Then tell us Princess, who is this lucky patron?", (Y/N) asked. "Angel Dust" Charlie spoke. "Oh yeah, the porn demon. Yeah, he's totally worth being redeemed". (Y/N) looked at Adam. "Adam! Language!" Adam gave (Y/N) a confused look. "What?"

(Y/N) suddenly stood up, "Well then, if you know so much…what do you think it takes to get into heaven?", she spoke. It was quiet until Sera asked if Adam was okay.

He scoffed as he pulled out a golden paper from his pockets and a quill, "Give me a fucking moment, okay?", he then started writing and gave Vaggie the paper as she read it out loud, "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man?", (Y/N) looked at Adam with a raised eyebrow and sat back down. He shrugged "Uh, yeah? Sure, got me here...didn't it? Right babe? Sera?", Adam ask as he looked his wife then Sera, seemingly questioning himself. Sera sighed before saying: "He was the first human soul in heaven."

In the following hours Charlie showed everyone the improvement of this soul called Angel dust. He did everything what Adam wrote on his list. He was selfless, he stopped one of his friends from stealing, and he stuck it to that awful man called Valentino, but nothing happened. Sera only sighed as she wanted to declare the trail as a failure and that we will see what brings someone to heaven when the first soul arrives. (Y/N) sat there with my head hanging.

She felt bad for Angel Dust, Charlie, and all of the other demons who wanted to try and make themselves better, especially when she looked over to Emily, who held the paper that Adam had written earlier with a sad look.

(Y/N) and Emily had always been very close, they considered each other to like sisters. Which why (Y/N) had asked her to be her maid of honor at her wedding, and if the time came, (Y/N) would be Emily's maid of honor when she would meet that special person.

Emily: But she was right, Sera. She showed us a soul can improve.

(Y/N): (Y/N) stood up again and flew next to Emily) He saw the light, Sera.

Emily: Checked all the boxes that you said would prove a person deserves a second chance.

(Y/N) Emily flew around the court room.)

(Y/N): Now we turn our backs, no second glance?

Sera: It's not as simple as you think.

(Y/N) and Emily looked up and Sera and flew up to her.)

Sera: Not everything is spelled in ink.

(Sera held (Y/N) and Emily's hands.)

Charlie: It's not fair, Sera!

(Vaggie places a hand on Charlie's shoulder)

Vaggie: Careful, Charlie, keep a cool head.

(Charlie pulls away)

Charlie: No! Don't you care, Sera? That just because someone is dead, it doesn't mean they can't resolve to change their ways turn the page, escape infernal blaze.

(Y/N) and Emily were on each side of Sera while still flying the air.)

Sera: I'm sure you wish it could be so. But there's a lot that you don't know.

(Lute interrupts Sera.)

Lute: What are we even talking' about? Some crack-whore who fucked up already? He blew his shot, like the cocks in his mouth. This discussion is senseless and petty.

(Adam and Lute flew to Charlie, as Adam held her face.)

Lute and Adam: There's no question to be posed! He's unholy, case closed. Did you forget that Hell is forever?

(Lute and Adam, flew on top of the crystal ball)

Adam: A man only lives once; we'll see you in one month. Gotta say, I can't wait to…

(Adam flew off the crystal ball and stood Infront of Charlie,)

Sera: Adam…

(Sera's eye widened but she was interrupted by Adam.)

Adam: Come down and exterminate you.

(Y/N) and Emily's eyes widened.)

Emily and (Y/N): Wait!

Adam: Shit…

(Y/N) and Emily flew down in front of the crystal ball)

Emily: What are you saying? Let me get this straight.

(Y/N): You go down there and kill those poor souls?

Charlie: You didn't know?

Adam: Whoops

Lute: Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

Adam: What’s the big deal?

(Y/N) looked up at Sera)

(Y/N): Sera, tell us that you didn't know…

Sera: I thought, since I'm older it's my load to shoulder

Emily: No!

(Y/N) put her hand on Emily's back for comfort)

Sera: You both have to listen; it was such a hard decision.

(Sera flew down to (Y/N) and Emily)

Sera: I wanted to save you; the anguish it takes to do what was required.

(Sera held (Y/N) and Emily's hands, she had flames in her eyes. (Y/N) and Emily looked at Sera with shock for a moment, until their looks turned angry.)

(Y/N): To think that we admired you, well we don't need your condescension.

(Y/N) and Emily tore their hands away from Sera, while they both flew in the air.)

Emily: Were both not children to protect! Was talk of virtue just pretension?

(Y/N) looked at Adam, who gave a worried look, she flew Infront of him.)

Adam: Babe listen-

(Y/N): Was I too naive to expect you to heed the morals you're purveying?

(Y/N) flew away from Adam, who had sadness in his eyes. She flew next to Charlie and Emily.)

Charlie: That's what the fuck I've been saying!

(Chalie held (Y/N) and Emily's hands. They flew on top on the crystal ball.)

Emily, Charlie & (Y/N): If Hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie!

(Adam and Sera were trying to talk to them. But Emily and (Y/N) wouldn't listen.)

Sera: Girls

Adam: (Y/N)

Emily, Charlie & (Y/N): If angels can do whatever and remain in the sky. The rules are shades of gray, when you don't do as you say. When you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again.

Charlie: I was told not to trust in angels.

(Filled with rage that Charlie had turned his wife against him, he decided to reveal Vaggie secret.)

Adam: By her?

Lute: Ha! She should know.

Vaggie: We should go.

Charlie: No! Don't you see? We've come so close. Look at them fighting, they're at each other's throats.

Adam: Don't you act all high and mighty. Did you ever think your little girlfriend might be a liar?

Vaggie: Don't, Adam please!

Adam: What's the fuss? Why hide the fact that you're an angel just like us?

(The Crystal ball revealed Vaggie's old look as an exorcist angel. Charlie stared at it in shock, and fell to the floor)

*End of the song*

(Y/N) looked at Adam with disgust in her eyes, Adam looked at (Y/N) but his smirk was quickly feeling off his face when he saw (Y/N) with a disappointed look.

He tried to reach out and explain, but (Y/N) stopped him and flew up next to Emily and Sera. Sera had to breath in out to collect herself, she then spoke. "I'm sorry, but the court finds there is no evidence that souls in Hell can be redeemed."

(Y/N) and Emily were disappointed, they looked at each other with worry. Adam then stated that when the extermination comes, he's coming to Charlie's Hotel first. He snaps his fingers causing Vaggie and Charlie to be sent back to Hell

"Charlie don't give up on this!" (Y/N) said from above as Emily chimed in "We will figure something out, we promise!" (Y/N) held Emily in her arms, trying to comfort her. "That was uncalled for Adam." Sera said will looking down at him. "Yeah, but did you see the looks on their fucking faces." Adam said while laughing, but it stopped when he saw (Y/N) disappointed face again.

Adam face softened for a moment, "Sorry." That was thing said until he flew up Infront of (Y/N) face while she was still comforting Emily.

"I'll see you at home tonight, right babe?" Adam said while putting his hand on (Y/N)'s face. (Y/N) just pushed his hand away. "You shouldn't expect me to be home tonight... or any night for that matter." Adam wanted to try and convince (Y/N) to come home, but he knew it would be a bad idea with other seraphim's watching.

He flew away, leaving (Y/N) with Emily and Sera. It was a short silence when (Y/N) released Emily from her grasp. Emily spoke, "Extermination of human souls. Demon or not there is no reason to be doing this."

Sera spoke, as they eye of her hair and halo opened. "They were upraising, girls. It is my position as the head Seraphim to protect these souls at all costs."

Sera's eyes closed as she placed her hands on (Y/N) and Emily's shoulders. "It is your job to keep them happy and joyful and (Y/N)'s to care for the children of Heaven." "How can we fulfill our jobs when we now know that were causing so much pain to souls down in Hell. And me knowing that my husband is keeping secrets from me, his wife." (Y/N) said.

Sera quickly had answer for it. She told (Y/N) and Emily to let her about this and told them to go back to their jobs.

That night, (Y/N) made true to her word and refused to come home. Adam laid on the bed that he and (Y/N) shared, waiting for his wife to come home so he could explain himself. He never meant to keep secrets from her, he just wanted to protect her and everyone else in Heaven.

And despite his fuckboy nature, Adam really and truly loved (Y/N) and would anything for her. Even if it meant killing demons just to protect her.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x reader #x reader

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spencerreidswhore187 · 1 year

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False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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SherlockHolmes1887: You were right.

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten.

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent.

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right?

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since.

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are.

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name.

Your phone vibrated.

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator.

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night.

You were about to reply when a voice cried out.

“Hold the door!”

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors.

The person entered beside you.

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut.

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied.

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days.

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting.

You and Spencer were the last to arrive.

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.”

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature.

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence.

Hotch nodded.

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold.

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.”

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.”

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked.

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair?

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added.

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.”

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.”

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.”

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied.

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.”

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked.

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died.

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body.

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.”

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up.

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused.

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.”

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest.

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it.

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.”

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day.

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed.

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up.

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.”

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends.

You spun on your heels to face Spencer.

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?”

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes.

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted.

You noticed the way his jaw tensed.

You grinned, “Lie.”

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk.

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage.

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies.

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online.

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying,

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie.

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock.

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately.

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong?

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :)

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious.

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers?

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him.

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You?

SherlockHolmes1887: Work.

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it?

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly.

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery.

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl.

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed.

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener.

He typed for what seemed like an eternity.

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once.

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted.

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her.

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard.

I fell hard.

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.”

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat.

You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death.

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid.

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room.

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen.

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.”

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile.

Why did it make you smile?

You decided to change the topic before your face went red.

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned.

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see.

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions.

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.”

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…”

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.”

“We need to call Hotch.”

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat.

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him.

You both stared forward, at the road.

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something.

Spencer eventually broke the silence.

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.”

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white.

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours.

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening.

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you.

You dropped Spencer’s hand.

“Sh-she called you what?”

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that.

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.”

Spencer held his face in his hands.

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say.

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.”

He cradled your cheek with one hand.

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.”

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him.

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #mgg #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #light angst #enemies to lovers

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ryoalouette · 11 months

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Machi's #12 DPxDC Idea

Dick shivered, Klarion had him against the wall and the sword. Quite literally. He had tie him up to a wall and now was threatening him with a sword.

"Relax," Klarion said. "I only want to talk."

"Funny way to show it," Dick quipped back.

"Oh? You mean this?" Klarion said swinging the sword. "Don't pay attention to it, is just a little failsafe in case things don't work as planned."

Dick narrowed his eyes, he was sure Klarion wasn't afraid of him or Batman so, what kind of creature could make him afraid? Dick needed to know more.

"What did you want to talk about anyway?"

Klarion swifter his feet, as if pondering what to say.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Klarion asked Dick surprising him.

"I mean, always in the same place, fighting the same fights, a never ending circle. It's so boring, so predictable. Wouldn't you like to fly away? To be able to see new places and meet new people?"

Dick thought about it, it was true that he was tired of being tied up to the same place. Back in his childhood he used to be constantly traveling, constantly moving. That ended when his parents died, Bruce had tried to help the itch by taking him on several expensive trips but it was not the same. He wanted to walk away without knowing where he would end up, enjoying the way more than the destiny itself. But he was fine, he was doing good, he was making the world a better place. His own comfort was secondary.

Klarion smiled, "that's what I thought."

Dick frowned, what were Klarion's intentions? But he didn't have time to ask. Klarion slapped something in his forefront as a portal opened.

"Klarion!" Yelled a feminine voice. "Time to pay up bitch!"

Klarion squawked and held his sword harder.

"He yearns for freedom! Take him!" He yelled as he pointed at Dick and took a step back. Dick gasped, so this was his plan! Not very original but very problematic for him.

Out of the portal came an old wrecked ship and from it fell a woman. She wore a mismatch of clothes from different time periods, several piercings on her pointed ears and a scarf tied up in her head. She also had long white hair and bright green eyes. Dick shivered as she smiled a too sharp smile.

"Not bad," she said getting closer to Dick. She turned to Klarion, "the payment is acceptable." Klarion let out a sigh of relief as she grabbed Dick's arm and pulled him up with her.

"Welcome abroad bitch, get ready to explore the realms and see what nobody has seen before. What nobody is supposed to see." Dick gulped as the boat traveled away through another portal

Bruce was desperate, it had been months since Dick had disappeared and they weren't any closer to find him than they were on day one. They had looked under every stone, every brick in the world and nothing. They had asked for favors from every person they knew, spent all the resources available to the justice league and even called for the green lanterns help. Nothing. Until Jason found a new book titled "kidnapped by the pirate queen" a romantic book about a rich boy that yearned for freedom and it was kidnapped by the pirate queen to travel the world and fell in love in the process. Coincidentally enough, it was written by one R.G.W. The batfam was divided if the clues were there or if it was a coincidence. Until the second book of the series came out, and then the third. With each new book it was more obvious that it was Dick writing the books, now only one question was, when they were going to meet their new sister in law?

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thefirstknife · 4 months

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ViDoc... 2!

A lot of cool stuff shown, my favourite being the strike, but first I want to mention this:

They said that when looking at Ace of Spades they realised they have the potential to make the rest of the deck of cards so this is why TFS weapons look like this and have character portraits; they're a deck! And specifically, these characters were chosen because of their ties to Cayde's story.

Obviously we have the generic Warlock, Hunter and Titan to symbolise the Guardians, but then there's others. Ikora and Zavala are obvious. Bottom left is most likely Shiro-4; hooded Exo with Hunter knives, I'm not sure who else it would be. The hood first made me think Elsie, but the Hunter knives don't make sense then.

Bottom right? That's Maya Sundaresh! Both as human and as Lakshmi-2, as we've learned from Veil Logs. It helpfully also has the Ishtar Collective logo. For those that don't know, Cayde worked as her guard, as an Exo, while she was still with Ishtar on Venus so that's why she's connected to him.

And top right? We have the "neoteric kiyot" cloak with the symbol of the Six Coyotes. Six Coyotes Exo member with ties to Cayde? That's Micah-10. Micah-10 category 10000 event.

Also for those that don't know, back in Beyond Light we got a really neat story about Micah-10 as a child in the lore book Your Friend, Micah Abram and some associated lore pieces that confirm Micah-10 is this kid. In one of the entries from the lore book, Micah is exploring Europa and accidentally alerts two Exos who then end up panicking, trying to shoot the intruder and then catching the kid. Then on one of the raid armour pieces, we have Cayde's flashback to this event from his POV, showing us that he was one of the Exos (as Cayde-1 then). He tried to shoot Micah, not realising it's a kid, then later grabbed them and held them up; the implication here that this is almost certainly the source of his mismatched memories that made him think he had a son. Him holding Micah is what eventually progressed in him simply remembering holding a child and constructing a story to go with it.

Micah-10 is an incredibly interesting character in general, as she is the closest thing we have to someone fulfilling the prerequisites for a speaker; even as a child, she was having strange prophetic dreams where something was speaking to her (most likely the Traveler) and showing her as an Exo. As a Guardian, she has the unique quality of being followed by Ghosts and has the title of "den mother of Ghosts."

She was also illustrated for the Volume VI grimoire collection, the one about Ghosts! Her Ghost Stories lore book is featured there accompanied by an illustration which shows her with a sniper, which the weapon with her image in TFS seems to be:

And yeah the sniper appears to have trans colours which I can't see as anything other than deliberate because Micah-10 is canonically trans! (Link to my post about it with links to a few more posts about it)

Incredibly exciting to see her featured on one of the TFS weapons, especially after she was featured in the grimoire and also in the TFS CE, in the autograph book where she left her own message, and so did the Ghosts that follow her. It's also interesting to tie her to TFS when we're going into the Traveler, given her unique relationship to the Traveler that she's harboured since she was a child. Can she become more than just a lore character now? Please?

Destiny fandom when a minor lore-only character gets one new mention be like: time to write an essay.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #the final shape #the final shape spoilers #micah-10 #long post #me looking at this card and thinking then suddenly the lightbulb turned on and like. oh my god that's micah #please please please micah as a full character in the game #or at least more lore about her

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hisui-dreamer · 11 months

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such lengths

Pairing: Floyd Leech x f!reader

Synopsis: if your fiancé is the one to kill you in an arranged marriage you can't refuse, then why not seduce said fiancé so he won't kill you?

Tags: fluff, cliché isekai plots, reincarnation, female reader, historical setting, arranged marriages

Word count: 1.7k+

Notes: how did i write more for floyd than malleus💀

anywaysss early birthday prize for everyone's second favourite eel!!

✧Jade's Villainess✧ ✧Malleus' Villainess✧

Masterlist

The tale of this noblewoman is nothing short of a pitiful one.

Though born into a lineage of high prestige, her family's former glory had withered away, drained dry by the toils of generations past. Yet, the count and countess, bound by love and tenderness, still showered their daughter with affection, sparing no effort to ensure her well-being.

The noblewoman yearned for this fleeting happiness to linger, but destiny rarely extends its benevolent hand for long. On her eleventh birthday, her mother, weary from the ceaseless burdens of the household, succumbed to a devastating illness and became bedridden. In a desperate gambit to procure funds for the cure to his wife's illness, the count embarked on treacherous voyages to distant shores, seeking business opportunities in the coastal realms.

But alas, the wheel of misfortune turned relentlessly. On her fourteenth birthday, while returning home with promises of a prosperous business deal, the count met his untimely end in a harrowing carriage accident.

As the sole heir to the county, she was burdened with the weight of the title, a mantle too heavy for an adolescent to bear. She undertook the grim task of orchestrating her father's funeral. During the somber ceremony, a peculiar party of visitors arrived, their countenance unsettling, teeth like razors and stature unnaturally tall. She soon learned these were the Leech family, the very traders her father had forged deals with.

They dangled an irresistible proposition before her, one she could not refuse; in exchange for becoming the betrothed of the eldest Leech son, her mother's well-being would be safeguarded, and the finest remedies would be at her disposal.

Thus, the noblewoman, too foolish and naive, chose to secure her mother's future. Their union was sealed when she reached the age of eighteen. Yet, not even a year passed before a sinister illness overcame her, her constitution ravaged by a poison slowly administered by her own husband.

The Leech family, though incredibly wealthy and influential, had always hungered for the societal standing that had long eluded them. The noblewoman, unknowingly, was their golden ladder to ascend into aristocracy, for deceiving the aristocratic circles into believing she was sickly, much like her mother, proved a simple task.

And so, the noblewoman passed away pitifully, her title passed into the hands of her husband, and her mother soon followed her beloved daughter.

of all the characters you could've have reincarnated as, you had the worst luck of all when you woke up as Floyd's late wife

heck, Floyd wasn't even the main character of the novel, it was some businessman that grew up to be greedy and cruel, but had to learn how to love again after meeting the heroine

his late wife was just briefly mentioned for a paragraph about how the leech family, basically the mafia from "fathoms below", started gaining more influence and helped the businessman with his schemes

though Floyd and his twin brother jade did gain a large fanbase, they were a pretty striking duo and when did red flags ever stop fans from simping

you yourself were a huge fan of the twins, but even you didn't instantly recognize you became Floyd's late wife

it was only when you were grieving with your mother about the passing of your caring father and the leech family showed up at the funeral

the striking teal hair, mismatched eyes, and carefree grin stood out almost immediately

Mr. Leech, an formidable figure, cast a shadow of authority as he shattered the oppressive silence that had draped itself over the elegant garden. His voice, deep and resonant, possessed a commanding quality as he addressed you. "My condolences for your loss, my dear. Your father and I were business partners... He spoke very highly of you."

With a sense of poised grace, you offered a nod at his words. "Thank you, Mr. Leech. It is an honor to have made the acquaintance of your family, even under these less-than-fortunate circumstances."

Jade, his sharp and composed eyes keenly focused on you, joined the conversation. "I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm Jade," he offered his hand in greeting.

You shook his hand, your voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Jade."

In stark contrast, Floyd, exuding an aura of indifference. Mr. Leech took it upon himself to introduce him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "And this is Floyd, my eldest son."

You extended a polite greeting to Floyd, your tone warm and inviting as you curtseyed. "Hello, Floyd. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Floyd, maintaining his stoic demeanor, made a "hmph" sound before turning away, his demeanor aloof.

Sensing the tension and his apparent disinterest, you scrambled for a way to interest him. "Oh uhm, you must be tired from your journey. Would you care for some refreshments? We have some pastries prepared, if you'd like."

He turns back to you, a glint of interest flickering in his curious eyes. "Hmmm... Alright, why don'tcha show me what you've got prepared, Shrimpy?" He responds, the edges of his lips curling upward.

thankfully, the funeral came to a close peacefully, and Floyd seemingly got along with you

from then you awaited the offer letter from Mr Leech to arrive

you remembered that Floyd, though easily bored, could be really dedicated to something if he wanted to

so what better way to survive, than to make Floyd like you?? only then will your mom get the medicine she needs, and you'll survive without struggling in poverty

worse case scenario, he gets bored of you when you're older and you'll just divorce

and if he's the one asking for the divorce, he can't really make you pay compensation for the past medical fees

so, you decided to accept the proposal nonetheless

but not without precautions!! you started studying intensely on all sorts of poisons and antidotes, just in case Floyd randomly gets bored and tries to unalive you

though if he wanted to end your life with brute force, you knew you wouldn't stand a chance against him

as fiancés, there's not much improvement in your relationship

sometimes he's bored and finds hanging out with you a chore, other times he's following you around like a curious puppy, and there are also moments where he pranks you to see your reactions

you've tried becoming closer to him by getting him cool shoes and playing instruments, but he's far too aloof for you to know if he likes you or not

but thankfully, your mother's complection has improved a lot, and it does look like she's recovering

and once you're both officially adults and married, you start attending public events with floyd to establish your connections

or more accurately, for the leech family to establish connections with aristocracy

this time, it was a tea party held by some business competitors of the leech family

The elegant garden was a tranquil haven for the tea party, the soft murmur of leaves rustling in the gentle breeze providing a soothing background to the clink of fine china and hushed conversations. You, Floyd, and the other aristocratic adolescents settled around a beautifully adorned table, the porcelain teacups and dainty pastries tempting you all.

Floyd lifted the delicate teacup to his lips as he rolled his eyes, having grown weary of the incessant chatter and polite pleasantries that surrounded him. Just as he was about to take a sip, you noticed a faint, unusual scent wafting from his cup, a scent that sent a chilling realization down your spine.

With lightning-quick reflexes, you reached out and pressed your hand against Floyd's, preventing him from taking that fateful sip. "Wait, Floyd, don't," you whispered urgently.

Startled, Floyd's gaze darted to your eyes, confusion etched across his face. "What's wrong, Shrimpy?" he asked, taken aback by your trembling hands.

You carefully take out the silver hairpin gifted to you by Mr Leech from your hair, murmuring, "Please explain this to father-in-law later..." Carefully, you submerged the hairpin into Floyd's cup, and both of you watched in horror as the pearly hairpin rapidly transformed into a sinister shade of black.

His eyes widened as he looked down at the poisoned tea, realizing the danger he had been unknowingly on the brink of. Anger simmered beneath the surface, his emotions stirred by the audacity of someone attempting harm. Swiftly, he plucked the hairpin from the cup, using his handkerchief to conceal the incriminating evidence before the guests could catch on.

"I'm bored," His voice carried throughout the venue, capturing the attention of the other guests. "Let's get out of here." He said as he pulled you up from your seat with a firm yet gentle gesture, placing an arm around your shoulder as he guided you away from the tea party.

Once you were far from prying eyes, he pulled you close, wrapping you in a protective embrace. His large hand moved soothingly over your back, attempting to calm your trembling form.

"Thanks, Shrimpy. I owe ya one" he whispered into your hair. After a brief moment, he pulled back slightly, his intense gaze fixed on your eyes. "But how'd ya know my tea was messed with?"

Anxiety seized your body at the question, the weight of your response holding immense consequences. If you answered wrongly, Floyd might suspect your intentions. In a panic, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"I wanted to protect you!"

Floyd blinked. "Protect... me?"

"Yes!" You affirmed. "I thought maybe there would be attempts on your life since your family's incredibly influential, and I wanted to be able to protect you..." You murmured the last bit, praying that you were making sense.

With an expression of genuine astonishment, Floyd stared at you, unblinking. It was clear that your explanation had taken him by surprise, the notion of your dedication leaving him momentarily speechless.

"You... you went through such lengths... to protect me?" Floyd finally managed to utter, a hint of incredulity in his voice. A glimmer of warmth crept into his eyes as he studied your face, taking in the sincerity in your actions.

Before you could conjure up an answer, his grip on your shoulder tightened, drawing you closer to him. "You're really something else, Shrimpy," he murmured, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Hahaha! I wouldn't mind having you around!"

needless to say, floyd started following you around even more now

it seems this event really helped you gain his trust and affection

soon after the party, he gifted you a new hairpin, with "pearls he found himself" he says

he starts getting jealous when you spend more time studying poisons with jade but if you say you're doing it because you want to protect him he melts again

looks like you're not losing your life anytime soon, but i also don't think that eel is letting go of you ever

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#i love the dynamic of floyd being like 🥺💕 you learned about poisons for me #and reader's like uhm sure (no i did it to protect myself)#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

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missredherring · 9 months

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J.M. + "Tell me what you like."

Joel Miller x GN!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 556

Contents: Post-outbreak Jackson. fluff. Reader has bad eyesight and mentions wearing glasses.

A/N: This is another of my journal prompt fills! The wheel of destiny picked Joel Miller and "Tell me what you like." from the inexperienced smut prompts.

This is very self-indulgent for me. Don't ask what I'd do to have Pedro read me my favorite book.

Not beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

Summary: "Tell me what you like."

Series Masterlist

“Can you read this?”

Joel sighs and gives you a long-suffering look. “Did Tommy tell you I can’t read? I swear that idiot don’t know when to stop jokin’ around.”

He expects you to laugh or at least show him that crooked grin he’s come to like so much, but your face is serious. You sit down beside him at the long table set up to divide the space into its printing and library sections. Calling the three shelves against the far wall a library is generous, especially when all the books spread out across them could probably be fit in half of one if they were condensed. But you’ve done a good job at making the space cozy by adding interesting knick knacks and dragging a beat up couch and mismatched chairs into the space. The rug in the center of it all has seen better days, but that could be said about everything and everyone within the community.

“No, no, he didn’t." You set a small book down on the table, distracting him from his annoyance.

“This is the one thing I’ve managed to keep safe for 20 years. This tiny, pocket-sized book.” Your hands are still hovering over it, fingertips in contact with the edges like you can’t bear to let it out of your grasp. “My glasses, on the other hand, didn’t make it.”

Joel sucks his teeth and gestures for the book you still haven’t given up. You only hesitate a second before pressing it carefully into his hand, like transferring it securely into his care would ensure it’s continued safety. It’s about as big as his hand, covered in a dark red fabric. Persuasion and Jane Austen are on the spine and the edges of the pages are sprayed with gold. He’s sure he’s heard of the author before, but that’s about it. It’s battered and stained in some places, but it looks like it’s in good condition. He almost swears when he cracks it open, but he can feel your gaze on him. The text is fucking tiny. The pages are like the ones in his mother’s bible: so thin and delicate you can see the text on the back of it coming through. Easy to tear, easy to destroy. You must really love this story to take such good care of it when you can’t even read it anymore.

“Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage…” The text is damned small but he can read it. If he squints.

When he looks up again you’re watching his finger on the line of text with greedy eyes. He likes that look on you, especially when it’s directed at him.

“How bad is your eyesight?”

“Pretty bad. I can get by most of the time, but… I can’t read most of the books here without a headache, and certainly not that one.”

He makes a noise and looks down at the text again. “You’ll have to tell me what you like,” He jerks his head to the bookshelves. “Which books.”

Your entire face lights up in surprise and delight and Joel’s glad he still has the book in his hands so he can’t rub at the warm spot that blooms in his chest.

#Joel Miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #gn!reader #x reader

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farfromstrange · 7 months

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Mismatched Bridesmaid | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 2 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Deciding to go to your old college roommate's wedding turns into a bad idea when you suddenly have to function as a bridesmaid until you're paired with a very handsome groomsman.

Warnings: Fluff, attempt at humor, SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral f!receiving, use of "good girl", One-Night Stand, shameless flirting, kind of "horny at first sight", so cheesy it might make you hate cheese

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: I was wondering why this didn't post until I saw that I hit "save draft" instead of schedule, so this may come on time for some and too late for others, but I'm still awake, so it counts as the 15th. Also, when I wrote this it was after hinting at it on here, and I was excited at first, but I'm not too happy with it now because it's just silly and falls a little flat, in my opinion. This is why I went back in and edited a hell of a lot, adding some things, etc. Nevertheless, I promised to clear out the vault for this event, so this is it. I got inspired by seeing the She-Hulk clips when the episode with Matty came out. It may or may not be noticeable. We're also working with the Nelson, Murdock & Page narrative. Enjoy!

You are not made for white-veil occasions.

While weddings, in their essence, symbolize unity while covering different facets of romantic beauty, they are also inherently stressful for nearly everyone involved in the proceedings. Over the years of adulthood, you’ve found that weddings tend to end in disaster when you attend—and you are not particularly fond of engaging in drama.

When your old college roommate sent you an invitation to her wedding in June, you considered responding with no. You’ve been close for a few years, but then you graduated, found separate careers, and then never talked again. You weren’t sure why she would send you an invitation until you called the number on the back of the card and you began catching up. She told you that she wanted to invite you because you were a vital part of her early twenties, and it reminded you that you are both adults and you have both grown beyond what you thought possible, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell her that you couldn’t make it to her wedding. Instead, you told her that you wouldn’t miss it for the world. That answer though seemed to have turned destiny against you.

You were excited when you arrived at the chapel this morning, but as soon as your foot touched the holy ground, everything went wrong. Maybe it is because you’re an atheist and God hates you, or maybe Karma just really fucking loves toying with you. Either way, when your friend’s maid of honor—also one of the few people you hung out with during your wild college days—came up to you, looking pale and panicked, you knew that the curse you always bring to weddings was only continuing to wreak havoc.

She said to you, “One of the girls got into a car accident on her way here. Don’t worry, she’s not dead, just a broken wrist, but that means we are one bridesmaid short. I need someone to step in before Janet finds out and cuts off my head for ruining her wedding day,” and she was deadly serious about it, too.

You knew that it was a mistake to come to this wedding, especially without a date or a plus-one to fall back on.

You were so focused on marveling at the beautiful white and golden decorations living the aisle, fantasizing about the day you might be walking down one of those that you didn’t think anything could go wrong since everything had been going so right. You should have known better than to trust that treacherous feeling of excitement that you made sure to nurture before breakfast so you could enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward without making it dependent on the open bar—although that fact did help.

Instead of dreaming about free drinks though, you’re being squeezed into a satin green dress with a low cut in the front, and someone you don’t know is slathering burgundy lipstick onto your lips. They are purposely trying to turn you into a copy of all the other bridesmaids, and you hate it. You hate it so much you get the sudden urge to scratch your eyes out and tear the skin off your lips.

Janet, the maid of honor, comes back up to you. She’s aged at least ten years since you last saw her when she pulled you away from the aisle. You feel for her. The entire weight of this wedding rests on her shoulders.

She eyes you, checking your outfit, before giving you a curt nod. “Thank God, you’re hot,” she mutters. You’re not sure if you were supposed to hear it.

“Thank you?” you answer awkwardly.

“Alright.” She fixes the corners of your lipstick. “We need to pair you with a different guy than Miss I-Don’t-Know-How-To-Drive was supposed to walk down the aisle with. Your looks don’t match. You’ll get Kathy’s partner,” she says. “And we need to line up, like, now because shit is happening in five minutes, not a second later. We can’t give Bridezilla the time to kill us all.”

With a frown, you ask, “Is she aware at all of what’s happening?”

Janet shakes her head. “No, and it’s better this way. Trust me.”

You stop questioning her. She knows what she’s doing.

When she guides you outside to line up, you’re not sure what to expect. You don’t know the groom, and you don’t know his friends. You’re here on your own, and now you’re part of a bridal party that you are also barely familiar with, wearing a dress that you were forced into for the sake of aesthetics. You hate when something is reduced to aesthetics because beauty has many facets, and you would have walked down that aisle with anyone as long as you could get it over with.

Until you see him. Strikingly dark hair in a perfectly cut tuxedo that underlines the muscles hiding underneath the fabric. His eyes are hidden behind round, red glasses that reflect the sunlight coming in through the already stained glass of the chapel’s windows. In his hands, he’s holding a white cane, leaning his entire weight on it as he waits. And he waits for none other than you.

Janet paired you with the most beautiful man on this planet, you can’t deny that. The way he stands there, his sharp jawline on full display—he looks ethereal. Just looking at him makes you sweat, and you’re starting to panic. What if she made a mistake? You can’t do this. You can’t—

“Matt,” she says and shoves you beside him into the line of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Janet introduces you, and then she’s gone. She pushes you into the cold water, forcing you to learn how to swim.

He tilts his head in your direction. “Hi,” he says. The sound of his voice resembles the purr of a black cat as it reverberates, but his grin reminds you of the Devil himself.

Fuck. Me.

You either did something very wrong to land here, or you did everything right.

“Hi,” you stammer. One look at him, and the blood rushes to your cheeks. Your face is burning.

He offers you his hand. “I’m Matt,” he says as if Janet didn’t already expose that to you.

Still, you take his hand. It’s the polite thing to do. “And I’m not supposed to be here.” Mentally, you curse yourself for being so stupid.

Matt chuckles. Even his laugh sounds bittersweet. Like dark chocolate. “I, uh, gathered as much.”

“I’m sorry,” you bite your lip, “I’m not—this is really weird. I don’t even know what to say.” You pray for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, maybe that will make it less embarrassing.

His features soften. There is no judgment. You can’t see his eyes, but there is a certain softness about him that throws you off guard, but you no longer feel like you’re drowning. “If it helps, I’m only here because I helped the groom graduate law school by writing his essays, and he feels like he owes me, so…I also don’t want to be here,” he says, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses. You get a small glimpse of his eyes. They’re hazel. Beautiful. He has an aura that draws you in; it’s not just his physical beauty that strikes you.

This man—this magnetic force of a man called Matt—is a stranger. He’s a man you were paired with to walk down the aisle even though you were never meant to be a bridesmaid in this wedding in the first place. So many things are happening to and around you at once, and you can feel the flames starting to burn and sizzle away at your skin.

You should pull yourself together. You shouldn’t stare at him. You shouldn’t listen to your heart which is hammering against your ribcage. But the emotions are already running high and you can’t possibly focus on anything else. He’s like a lifeline to you.

And God, you want him to put those calloused hands on your skin and take you to bed. But that’s not something to think about in a place of God. On the day of someone else’s wedding. Except that you can’t think of anyone else, and his proximity isn’t making the situation any better for you.

Another blush threatens to take over your features. “Oh, you’re a lawyer?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he says. “I have a firm. Nelson, Murdock & Page.”

“Here in New York?”

“Hell’s Kitchen, yeah. Me and my associates just reopened our doors to the public after a rough year.”

“Oh, that’s...cool. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you. And what do you do, if I may ask?”

His interest takes you off guard, but you don’t hesitate to answer his question. You tell him your profession, and how you met the bride, and he listens without another word. No man has ever paid you this much attention before.

Though Janet meant it when she said that you will have to start walking in exactly five minutes, not a second longer. She passed by everyone, handing out bouquets. Green with hints of red and gold. It fits the theme. They’re beautiful, but the flowers within the bouquet become a problem when she hands you your own set.

“Janet,” you stop her from leaving. “I can’t take these.”

“The fuck you can’t,” she retorts.

“Seriously, I can’t. I’m allergic to Jasmines. I’ll sneeze.”

She glares at you. “Then fucking hold it.”

There is no arguing with her, and she passes by you to continue putting everyone in their places. You stare down at the bouquet, your nose already starting to itch. The smell alone is enough to make you nauseous.

To your surprise, Matt reaches for the flowers. “May I?” he asks, but he has already grabbed a hold of them.

“Sure,” you answer, curious about where he’s going with this.

“Hold this.” He guides the top of his cane into your hand.

His fingers feel along the red ribbon. He takes a whiff. There are so many scents that would be overwhelming even to someone without heightened senses due to a lacking fifth one, so you’re even more surprised when he finds the Jasmines without a struggle. He traces the petals just to make sure, and he quickly pulls the flowers out of the bouquet, tightening the ribbon around the now smaller girth in the process.

Tossing them behind one of the pillars in the corridor, he hands them back to you. “Here,” he murmurs. “For you.”

Words elude you.

“Are you allergic to anything else?” The question is valid, considering you’re still not making a move to take the bouquet from him.

You exhale a shaky breath, reaching for the flowers, and answer without missing another beat, “Weddings.”

That elicits a giggle from him. The sound is enough to make your heart melt. Does he know what he’s doing to you?

Matt opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of heels clicking against the marble floors stops you both dead in your tracks.

Your entire body recoils when the bride’s voice rings out, echoing, “Who the fuck mismatched my bridesmaids?”

A hand rests on your bicep, and you don’t even have to look down to know that it is Matt’s. He’s the only one standing to your right, anyway. He squeezes as though to let you know that you won’t lose your head, but you’re not so sure now that your college roommate is glaring at you in a white dress that reminds you of a pastry, and her eyes are full of fury. He can’t see it, but he would cower in fear if he did.

Thankfully, Janet pulls her aside, explaining the situation to her.

“She what?!” she screeches. “On my wedding day? Are you kidding me?”

“Yes, because car accidents respect timing when it comes to special occasions,” Janet counters.

You snort. Matt beside you digs his teeth into his bottom lip, but even he can’t hide his amusement.

“Oh, snap,” you mutter under your breath.

“Shots have been fired,” he says.

“I think we’re witnessing a double homicide.”

“I’m not a very credible witness. I can only describe how it sounded, unfortunately.”

Your snort turns into a laugh. The bride’s head snaps around, and you go quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” you choke out.

“If she decides to throw a punch at your pretty face,” Matt’s breath tickles your ear, “I can be your attorney and sue her ass.”

This time, you’re conscious enough to slap a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your reaction. “How do you know I’m pretty?” you whisper back between little giggles.

He shrugs with a smirk of his own. “I just know.”

He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, and you have no choice but to submit.

Janet manages to bring some calm back to her friend eventually, and then it’s showtime. Right on the second, it’s time for you to walk down the aisle, and you have never been happier about a strict schedule and someone adamant about keeping that schedule for the sake of all of your lives.

Your roommate has always been a very dominant personality, so you’re aware of the things she can do when she doesn’t get what she wants.

An 80s pop ballad begins to play. You make sure to match your pace to everyone else but also make sure that you’re not running away from your partner.

You may have been a mismatched bridesmaid, but you can’t complain about the company.

Against all odds, the service is beyond beautiful. It’s not often you get to stand so close when two people who seem to truly love each other make a vow to be there for each other for the rest of their lives. You can’t help but shed a tear. They complement each other perfectly. Is that ever in the cards for you? Will you ever be able to have what they have? Or will you always feel like you’re not worthy of this kind of unconditional love and endless devotion—of someone wanting to spend the rest of their life with you?

You look over at Matt. The hint of a cross necklace is starting to peek out underneath his dress shirt. Of course, he’s Catholic.

He carries himself with such a grace that puts everyone else in this room to shame. Does he know that you’re staring at him? You hope not.

After the ceremony, you lose sight of Matt in the masses. He doesn’t owe you a goodbye, but you still feel a little disappointed when you return to the dressing room and finally peel the satin dress off of your very sweaty skin.

At the party afterward, he’s still nowhere to be found. You give up. Not that you want to spend the evening with him anyway, but you kind of do. You drown your sorrows in a glass of vodka cranberry and a bowl of olives. They taste like rotten meat, but there are too many people by the buffet for your liking. The last thing you want to do is mingle and get asked stupid questions by people you don’t even know. So, you stay back, and you watch from afar as everyone is having the time of their lives not so far away from you, but far enough for you to breathe.

“And here I thought weddings were supposed to be a joyous occasion,” Matt pipes up beside you, and you twirl around in your chair to face him with wide eyes.

You didn’t expect to see him back here. “Hi!” you exclaim. “What’re you—I thought you left.”

“Nah,” he says. “I just had to take care of some things.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, that’s why I asked.”

Folding his cane, Matt lowers himself down on one of the chairs beside you and orders himself a beer with the bartender. “Let’s just say that I have an important court case coming up and I had to make a call.”

You take another sip from your drink. “That sounds a lot more exciting than my life, to be honest.”

“You are sulking at a wedding. Thinking about an ex?”

“More like life in general.”

“Ah, yes, the eternal fear of dying alone.” He raises his bottle to yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

A laugh escapes you. “That was cynical,” you say.

“And you’re not?”

He beats you at your own damn game, and he finally gets that smile he has been vying for.

“Are you smiling?” his voice is barely above a whisper.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips. “Maybe.” But the smile is audible in your voice, giving you away.

Matt smirks, nodding his head. “Good girl.”

The sharp vodka runs down the wrong pipe. You cough. Did he just—

He did.

He pats your back, and his hand lingers a lot longer than it should. He looks so smug. Pleased with himself. That part of him is stupidly attractive to you, even though you would usually hate such cockiness in any other man. But Matt isn’t like any other man.

You apologize for your reaction, but he should be the one apologizing to you for throwing you off your game. What is he doing? You can’t read him. You wish you could because that would make this so much easier, but that’s probably the point. He wants to tease you. He wants to mess with your head. He’s a dick. A fucking attractive dick that could tell you to do just about anything and you in your flustered state would go along with it without hesitations. That’s the kind of control he has over you, and you just met. It feels like a twisted form of destiny, but you can’t quite believe it. Yet.

“Do you always do that?” you dare to ask.

He frowns. “Do what?”

“Flirt with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests?”

A playful smirk plays on his lips.

“It’s been known to happen,” says Matt.

You poke your tongue against the soft tissue of your cheek. “Cheeky,” you murmur.

“That’s also been known to happen.”

“What, being cheeky with—”

“—with women who were forced to be bridesmaids even though they were only supposed to be guests? Yes.” He’s catching on quickly.

You laugh and nod. “Yeah, that.”

“I do have to say though,” he adds, and for a second you think he might ruin the joke instead of playing it out further, but Matt is full of surprises, “Out of all the mismatched bridesmaids I’ve met in my thirty-something years of, um, living, you’re my favorite so far.”

With your hand, you start fanning your face rather dramatically. “I feel honored,” you say.

Again, he chuckles. “You should be.”

“Why, because you’re so irresistible?”

“I was going to say that I don’t like a lot of people because, you know, they’re dicks, but that works too.”

“Wow.” You take another sip. The liquor burns its way down your sore esophagus. “You have balls, man.”

“Is that a problem?” he counters with a question.

The answer comes naturally. “No,” you say. “I like it.”

“Good.” Hearing you clink the ice cubes against your empty glass by swirling it around, Matt concludes that you need a refill. “Can I get you another drink?” he asks.

The question sounds so innocent, but the look on his face renders you speechless. His hand inches dangerously close to yours on the counter, his knee brushing yours, and the heat shoots straight to your neglected cunt.

Fuck this.

“You could do that, or we could skip that part and just…you know.”

One brush of your hand against his thigh, that’s all it takes for him to know.

Pushing you through the door to his apartment a few minutes later, his lips are on you. The door falls shut with a loud bang, and he presses you against the wall of his hallway.

His lips feel like a silky cloud of lewdness. The way he kisses you is utterly erotic. Your lips part in a delicious moan that he swallows with a grunt of his own. He swallows it all, shoving his tongue into the tight confines of your mouth, and exploring every inch he can reach. He tastes you. He consumes you.

His hands desperately search for an ounce of bare skin. He’s tugging at your clothes, sliding and tearing them aside. Once his fingers finally brush over the bare skin of your stomach, he melts.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. Your leg hooks around his waist. You can’t wait. He has ignited a fire within you that no one has been able to light before. He’s touching you with a precision that puts your former lovers to shame. He’s paying attention to your every breath and heartbeat, and with every touch, he asks, “May I?”

You don’t even make it to the bedroom. Once he has successfully removed the bottom half of your clothes, he falls to his knees. He is a sight to behold. The disarray of colors that shines into his apartment illuminates his face, bathing it in a selection of hues that bring out his best features.

Matt has yet to take off his glasses, and you take the opportunity to tear them away from his face. You’re gentle though. You ask him, “May I?” mirror the question he has been asking you throughout the night, and after a thick swallow, he nods.

You caress his cheek as you remove his glasses, and when you finally see his hazel eyes in all of their glory, you have to bow down to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper. “So fucking beautiful, Matt.”

He whimpers. You could have sworn to have imagined it, but when you stroke his cheek with such a gentleness it almost makes him recoil in anguish, you know that you didn’t imagine the sound from his lips. You kiss it away. You kiss all of his insecurities away. You want him to feel as good as he is making you feel. You don’t know him, but you want to get to know him, and if he’s ready to surrender himself to you, you are more than ready to do the same for him. He can feel that with every brush of your fingertips and every kiss you deliver to his plump lips that taste like heaven and hell in itself.

Your words don’t leave him cold. His cock is aching in his pants—you take note of his impressionable size, which only makes you more excited for what’s to come—but he refuses to take it out. Not until you’re fully satisfied. To be honest, you could come just from staring at him on his knees in front of you, looking like he would lay the world to your feet and kill everyone who has ever dared to hurt you, but that is not enough for him.

He needs the experience. Feeling your skin, tasting you, and breathing in all facets of your natural scent mixed with the artificial one from your shampoo. He can’t get enough of it. Of you. Of everything about and within you. He’s as attracted to your body as he is consumed by your soul. You’ve got him in a deadlock, but he would never complain about that.

You gasp when Matt grabs your thigh and throws it over his shoulder. Your panties are gone within seconds, torn on the floor somewhere. You’re completely bare to him.

You want to warn him that you didn’t shave, but he doesn’t care.

Before you know it, he has flattened his tongue against your pussy, and he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

“Fuck!” you cry out, reaching for support on the wall behind you.

He flicks the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue, testing the waters before he sucks it into his mouth.

His grip on your thigh becomes bruising. Matt eats you out like he has been starving for years and you are his first and last meal. He sucks on your clit, and he fucks you with his tongue. Your pussy is the altar he worships at. Your arousal is his holy water. He dives deeper and deeper into the wetness between your thighs, and he moans loudly when you pull at his hair.

“Fuck, Matt–” You’re clawing at whatever you can find. It feels so good. You’re higher than you have ever been.

The sound of his mouth working your slick folds toward eternal bliss is obscene and utterly sinful. His stubble scratches against your inner thighs. The pain grounds you in the here and now, making you focus on the tidal wave that is about to crash into you and tear you to shreds.

You can’t even warn him before your orgasm takes over, and it takes you into another dimension. You come with a shout of his name. It’s nothing short of explosive. The orgasm drags on through his mouth on your clit, relentlessly sucking until the nerves jump, and you’re begging him to stop.

His face glistens. With every kiss up your body, Matt marks you. By the time he has reached your quivering lips, he still tastes like you.

“You did so well,” he whispers. “Such a good girl for me.”

You exhale. Without his shoulders to hold onto, you would probably lose your footing. “You’re crazy,” is all you can say.

He smirks. “In a good way, I hope.”

“Yes. Fuck.”

“Regret coming home with me?”

“Absolutely not.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He lifts you with ease. “Then I’m going to make it worth your while.”

And when your back hits the soft mattress and silk sheets of his bed, you don’t doubt that he is going to make good on his promise.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #daredevil x reader #reader insert #lizzi’s vault #charlie cox

254 notes · View notes

ghostie-gengar · 6 months

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three four eight three!!

relationship chart and their swim forms :3

hcs under the cut (ages are as of splat3)

Captain

real name Sango, aka DJ Sango, nicknamed Agent Ick (squid sisters)

she/her, played with he/him during OE

robust clubhook squid

splattershot main but can work with anything

pretty chill and stoic but tells really good stories if she's in the mood

loves her girlfriend agent 8 so much and thinks she's the most amazing girl in the world <3

pretty blunt with the rest of the splatoon but with eight she's so warm it's like she's a totally different person (can you tell im obsessed with agent 24)

she sees a lot of herself in Neo but doesn't really know how to talk to them so she just. stares at them

acts fed up with Neo's antics but secretly finds them endearing. likes to pick them up and throw them

huge scar on her eye from being sanitized (the eye glows tho so thats cool) and has various others all over

Agent 4

real name Shoyu, nicknamed Sho (marie) and Four-Brains (captain)

he/him

firefly squid

dualies main

his freckles and spots glow! his tentacles are sparkly and so is his ink thanks to a condition he has. it's about as common as freckles

super busy college student trying to balance his hobbies with agent duties and schoolwork

hobbies include video games, music, parkour, clam blitz, and hanging out with his friends

knees are usually scraped

wears mismatched socks

he's a super cool guy, but he tries a little too hard sometimes so he can be kinda cringefail but we love him!!

super nosy and pays a lot of attention to details, mild perfectionism

shortest of the agents other than Neo, but give them like a year and they'll be taller than him

Agent 8

real name Umiko, nicknamed Eighty (captain)

she/her

bimac octopus

mains heavy splatling and e-liter

she's shy when you first meet her but she's super sweet and friendly once you get to know her

hides in small spaces when she's scared, easily startled

besties with Four, they play just dance together

she thinks Captain is soooo cool and has a huge crush on her (yes they're dating)

prefers to be called Eight over her real name. only Captain gets to call her Umiko <3

lives with Captain, but stayed at Four's place during splat3

has some burn scars on her back (from failed OE missions) and post side order one of her tentacles is bleached (same side as captain's sanitization scar <3)

Neo Agent 3

real name Trip, aka Inkborn Harbinger Of Destiny, nicknamed Newbie (squid sisters and captain)

they/them

bigfin reef squid

splatana main (they modded their splatana wiper to have the firepower of a stamper)

they lie about their age to play turf wars- this led to them being recruited into the NSS

autism swag

they love love love shiny things and also spiderman

looks up to Captain but is also terrified of her

loves it when Captain picks them up and throws them

when they get scared/overwhelmed during missions they go and sit near Captain. they don't even say anything, it's just comforting to be near someone they know has been through worse

had an enormous crush on Shiver until they met her, when she genuinely tried to kill them

has a strong sense of wonder and is fascinated by all that alterna has to offer

the back of their head is fuzzy, and they have various scratches all over

homeless for most of their life, briefly lived with the Salmonids, then was able to snag an apartment with special arrangements for their rent to be cheaper since they're a kid

they scrape by selling the treasure they find in the desert

they see Miso as their equal and treat him like a younger sibling. they get extremely offended when people assume he's their pet, as does he

hates Mr. Grizz with a passion.

Neo Agent 3 Jr.

real name Miso, aka Miso Soup With Tofu And Green Onions With A Side Of Dumplings And Fried Rice, nicknamed Little Buddy (Neo)

he/him

smallfry salmonid

was rescued by Neo from Grizzco before he hatched, where Mr. Grizz had full intentions to kill him

he hatched from a special golden egg that glowed brighter than all the rest, it was prophesied that he would leave the salmonids and rise up against a great evil

always hungry, will munch on anything (including Captain's shoes)

extremely loyal to Neo and loves them very much. the two of them look out for each other and live together

he and Neo lived with the salmonids when Neo couldn't nail down a permanent place to live, then they had to leave due to an unfortunate incident with Grizzco.

79 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 7 months

Text

Destination Destiny

Note: my goodness that title makes me want to vomit, but I can't come up with anything else soooooo... also hey look!! it's the never used before enemies to lovers trope nobody asked for!

Warnings: 18+!!! smut.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You met a handsome stranger on your way to work.

wordcount: 5k

Masterlist

You rushed through the crowded train station, a hot coffee in one hand and your phone in the other to check the time. You were running late this morning, again. You sprinted up the stairs to the platform from which your train would depart with only a few minutes left, and as soon as you stepped onto the platform you felt a hard blow against your body from the left, followed by a splash of hot liquid. You had run into someone who was rushing to the same train as you, and you were both splattered with each other's fresh coffee.

'Fuck!' the man groaned, wiping his neck with the sleeve of his black coat.

'Goddamnit!' you huffed and looked down at your ruined outfit.

You quickly covered your white coffee stained blouse by zipping up your jacket and you wiped your face with a napkin you had snatched from the kiosk when you had bought the drink you never got to enjoy.

'Thanks a lot!' the man hissed and threw up his hands.

'Yeah, well, at least you're wearing all black so you won't look like an idiot with coffee stains!' you snarled.

You looked up at the man who you had bumped into, and you were so angry you didn't care that he was taller and much stronger than you. His hair was tied back into a bun, which allowed you to get a full view of his scarred face and the tattoo on his neck, and you would usually cross the road if you'd see a guy like him when being alone. But right now you were furious and surrounded by countless people as it was rush hour at the train station, so you didn't butch. He stared at you with wild mismatched eyes, which were filled with rage, and you both opened your mouth to have a go at each other but you were silenced before a word came out as you heard the whistle of the dispatcher, announcing your train was about to leave. Without thinking you both began to run to the train as the doors were about to close, and you both managed to get on board just in time. Only when you heard the doors shut behind you, you realised how packed the train was and you were pushed up against the man who had spilled his coffee all over you, like sardines in a can.

'Great,' the handsome man muttered as he looked down at you, and he rolled his eyes.

'Oh, I'm sorry, mister,' you mocked, heatedly.

Your clothes were still warm from the coffee and, when the train departed and you lost your balance, you found out the stranger's coat was also still warm and soaked. You stumbled into him as you had nothing to hold onto, and you heard his drenched coat squelch as your cheek landed onto his chest. A muffled and strangled shriek sounded between your clenched teeth upon feeling the warm and sticky fabric touch your face, and the man grumbled as he grabbed your shoulder and gently pushed you back, keeping you from fully tripping while the train swayed.

'Thanks,' you mumbled and wiped your damp cheek with a grimace.

The man didn't speak, but you could tell he was clearly amused that you had smashed your face against his wet coat. The rest of your half hour train ride was awkward and uncomfortable. You felt disgusting as your clothes stank and didn't dry as fast as you hoped, and the fact that the man you had run into reeked of coffee too didn't help your mood either. What also didn't help was that every time the train swayed, which was often, you kept stumbling into him and he eventually became so annoyed with you that he simply held your shoulder to keep you from falling against him time after time. You looked up at him as he stared out the window behind you while he held your shoulder, and you thought he was actually very good looking. It was a shame he was such an asshole though.

When the train finally came to a halt at your destination you were relieved to breathe in the fresh air as the doors opened. You attempted to step out of the train but were immediately pulled back by the strap of your shoulder bag after it had somehow caught onto the button of the man's coat sleeve, and you were launched back at him again. This time your back was slammed against his still wet coat and you felt the coffee seep through your thin jacket. You didn't know what happened at first so you pulled again, hearing something clatter onto the floor while the people behind you began to murmur and complain you blocked the exit. The man scoffed as he looked down at you, and then held up his hand.

'Thanks,' he sneered, and you noticed you had accidentally pulled off the button from his sleeve.

'I- I'm sorry,' you stammered and felt your cheeks heat up as the other passengers began to push past you to get off the train, 'I will pay for that, we can sort it out-'

'Honestly,' the man cut you off, 'I'd rather not see you again. So it's whatever,' he sighed, 'this is my stop so...'

'This is my stop too.'

'Fantastic,' he said, unimpressed, and then shoved past you out the door, 'have a good day, lady,' he feigned a smile.

'Yeah, you have a good day too, mister,' you retorted.

Your day hadn't improved since the rocky start that morning, and you were glad to see your train arrived in time at the station to take you back home after your workday had finished. It was once again crowded, but at least it wasn't as packed as in the morning. You searched for an empty seat as you made haste through the wagons, wanting to find a seat before the train would depart so you wouldn't lose balance and stumble again, as always. You kept your stained outfit hidden as you held your jacket closed, covering yourself up, and you were glad you didn't stink of coffee anymore. Your eyes scanned the third wagon you hopped through and you finally found an empty seat, or so you thought, because when you came closer you saw some asshole had reserved the seat for his backpack. You sighed, as there was nothing you hated more than people placing a bag on the seat next to them while it was busy.

'Excuse me,' you said, 'may I sit-' you stopped talking abruptly when the owner of the backpack turned his face towards you, 'oh, for fuck sakes,' you sighed and couldn't help but chuckle.

'You've got to be kidding me,' the handsome man from earlier that day groaned upon seeing you.

He contemplated his options but then removed his backpack and allowed you to sit next to him. After a few seconds the foul smell of old coffee penetrated your nose and you made a face.

'Christ, you reek,' you mumbled.

The man snapped his face towards you and flared his nostrils.

'I wonder why,' he growled and looked you up and down, 'you stink too by the way,' he said and looked out the window again.

'What? Really?' you asked, but he didn't pay you any attention.

He did see you in the window reflection though, and he had to hold his laugh when he saw how you discreetly sniffed your blouse, thinking no one saw you. And he was right, you indeed smelled too. You had just gotten accustomed to the stench that you hadn't noticed anymore throughout the day, and you felt embarrassed.

'Well,' you feigned confidence, 'you owe me a coffee.'

'Excuse me?' he looked at you with disbelief, 'yeah… I don't think so, sweetheart. You ran into me, not the other way around.'

'You clearly ran into me.'

'No, you obviously ran into me-' he argued.

'You ran into me!'

'Whatever, I'm not buying you a coffee,' he shook his head, 'my coffee was spilled too, so where's my compensation?'

'Your clothes weren't ruined.'

'My clothes weren't- lady,' he said curtly, 'my coat is made of suede. It's absolutely ruined because I couldn't dry it!'

You had no snarky remark to that so you kept quiet and muttered an apology, which he accepted with a grumble. You both quietly stared out the window as the train continued back to your home town, and as the minutes passed by you started to feel bad about the whole ordeal. Meanwhile the man next to you had pulled out his phone and scrolled through social media. You saw his lips curl into a smile several times when he saw some cute dog videos on his feed, and you then realised that a man who softened at the sight of dogs couldn't be all that much of an asshole, so you sincerely apologised to him and introduced yourself.

'What's your name?' you asked and held your hand out.

'It's Sihtric,' he said and smiled softly as he shook your hand, 'apology accepted by the way. And I guess I owe you an apology too.'

'It's fine. We were just both in a rush. But, hey,' you looked at him, 'I really ruined your coat,' you pointed at the sleeve which missed a button, 'I know you said you didn't want to see me again, but since I'm here now anyway I might as well offer again to pay for the repairs.'

He looked down at his coat, 'I really appreciate that, lady, but I don't even know if it can be fixed. I'll have to see if it can be dry cleaned first.'

'Well,' you thought for a moment, 'how about I give you my insta and then you can do with that whatever you want? If you want me to pay for the repairs then you can send me a message. If you never wish to hear from me again you can just block me.'

'Yeah, sure,' Sihtric chuckled and shrugged lightly.

He had nothing to lose so he handed you his phone and you typed in your username. You left your page open on his screen and handed the device back, leaving it up to him to either follow you or delete you from his search results. Sihtric locked his phone and shoved it in the pocket of his coat as the train neared the station where you had crashed into each other that morning. You both got up while the train entered the station and you waited silently at the doors. Then, when the train came to an abrupt halt, Sihtric was the one to bump into you this time from behind and he accidentally pushed you up against the doors with his muscular body before you could press the button to open them.

'Auch!' you groaned after you bumped your head against the glass.

'Shit, I'm sorry!' Sihtric said concerned and he spun you around, 'are you okay? I'm really sorry, it was an accident.'

'Sure,' you huffed and rubbed your reddened forehead, 'just admit this was payback for this morning.'

Sihtric fought a laugh and opened the doors for you. You both got off the train and felt awkward when you noticed you walked into the same direction to leave the station, having to exit at the same side. Once outside you were finally freed of each other but you both couldn't help to glance at each other before parting ways.

'Have a good evening, darling,' Sihtric taunted.

'Good evening, mister,' you teased, and you both turned away from each other with a faint smile.

The next morning you woke up and saw Sihtric had followed your instagram. You wanted to check his profile, just to snoop around, but it was set to private. You requested to follow him and saw he had approved your request once you stepped out of the bus at the train station. You didn't have time to go through his posts as you were running late again, as per usual, and you didn't even have time to grab yourself a coffee today. That wasn't a good morning sign, but at least you wouldn't be able to spill your coffee again.

Just in time you managed to jump in between the closing train doors and you were once again trapped between the other standing passengers. You squeezed yourself through the crowd, away from the doors, and you felt silly looking around once you had found a spot, kind of wanting to find Sihtric, and you were surprised when you actually saw him. Unlike you, he was standing rather comfortably between the seats, having some space to decently move, while you were squished with people near the sliding door that separated the seats from the wagon entrance. Sihtric's eyes caught you and a grin slowly appeared on his beautiful face. He then held up his coffee and winked, as if he wanted to cheer with you, and he took a sip before he looked down at his phone. You were jealous of his coffee and then remembered you had access to his instagram page now. You managed to grab your phone, but not without elbowing a few people, and you opened your insta to find a DM request.

Sihtric: how's your coffee this morning? ;)

You couldn't help but smile at his message and you looked up at him, but he was still looking down at his phone. You didn't know he was going through your posts while you wrote your reply.

You: I was in a rush again… didn't even have time to grab a coffee :(

You then opened his page and, after seeing some photos, you figured he seemed like a rather normal guy who was into working out and having a drink with friends. You looked at a shirtless photo of him that was clearly taken at a gym, which was posted only a few days ago, and you smiled at how insanely good looking he was, but then the train suddenly swayed and you accidentally double tapped the photo. You gasped when you saw the red heart appear and felt your cheeks heat up. You panicked and tapped the photo again quickly to unlike it, but as the train swayed a few times more you ended up accidentally unliking and liking the photo two more times. To your horror, you received a pop up notification that Sihtric had messaged you again, and you opened the chat with sweaty hands. Sihtric: no matter how many times you like my photo, I still won't buy you that coffee sweetheart

You: sorry to hurt your ego, mister Look At My Abs, but I liked that pic on accident

Sihtric: on accident? three times? Okay, darling…

You: oh shut up

Sihtric: you really are as annoying online as you are in real life huh?

You snapped your head up and found Sihtric already looking at you with a grin on his face. Then the train started to slow down as your destination was reached again, and you found Sihtric walking in front of you down the stairs while leaving the platform.

'I hope you'll spill your coffee again,' you said as you rushed past him.

'Not a chance, darling,' Sihtric called after you.

But as soon as those words had left his mouth he accidentally spilled what was left of his coffee as someone bumped harshly into his shoulder, splattering the liquid all over his leather boots. Sihtric cursed and flung the empty cup into a bin before he tried to clean his shoes with some cheap kiosk napkins.

During your lunch break at work you saw Sihtric had been viewing your instagram stories throughout the day and even liked one of the memes you had shared. You wanted to call him out on his lurking behaviour, but you knew you had no right to speak since your post liking disaster earlier that morning.

Once your workday was over again you made your way back to the train station. It was a Friday so it was even busier than usua,l as people tried to get home as fast as possible for the weekend. Your train was delayed by twenty minutes, which was kind of a relief to you because that meant you wouldn't have to rush. What killed your mood was the fact that the kiosk at your platform was out of coffee and all the other kiosks had huge lines as everyone wanted to get their caffeine fix. You cursed internally and, to make things worse, you suddenly heard the announcement that your train was not delayed anymore, but entirely cancelled. Everyone on your platform murmured and complained as they began to look for other ways to get home, and then you heard over the speakers that there would be buses available for those stranded. You made haste to the bus stop, but it was so crowded that by the time you arrived the first two buses were already packed and ready to leave.

'Sorry, the next buses will be here in about an hour!' a railroad employee shouted, and you groaned.

You returned back into the train station, hungry and tired, and as you looked around for an empty seat you suddenly saw Sihtric. He was focused on his phone while he leaned back against a wall, and you decided to walk up to him.

'You owe me a coffee,' you grinned.

Sihtric looked up, confused at first but he then chuckled and tucked his phone away.

'No,' he said, 'you owe me a coffee. I spilled mine again this morning.'

'You're kidding,' you snorted, 'I didn't even run into you, so you can't possibly put the blame on me.'

'You just cursed me' Sihtric shrugged, 'you said you hoped I'd spill my coffee and well… it happened. You're just like a curse, you know, following me around.'

'Oh, please,' you scoffed, 'you're happy to see me now that we're both stuck here.'

'Yeah, whatever,' he smiled sweetly, 'you missed the bus too I guess?'

'They were packed. The next buses will be in like an hour, they said.'

'Yeah, heard that too. I was just checking what food places are open nearby. The station is overflowing with people and I'm starving, but I won't wait in line for an hour just to get a cold burger.'

'Yeah, I was also considering my options. You found a place then?'

'I did,' Sihtric confessed, 'there's a pizza place nearby, I was thinking of going there. Why? You're not joining me, are you?' he looked pained but then smiled.

'Well, because you asked so nicely,' you grinned, 'I will join you, mister.'

'Fine,' he feigned annoyance, then grabbed his backpack off the floor and readied himself to go get some food.

You started to truly enjoy each other's company, although it was very easy to bicker over literally anything with him, but it was all good hearted… for the most part. You called him out on his behaviour in the train, keeping a seat from someone by placing his backpack on it, and he told you he just didn't like people. You laughed and said you felt the same, so you'd give him a free pass for being an asshole about it. You both ate a pizza and then decided to go back to the station and see if more buses arrived already. You were both delighted to see it wasn't as busy anymore as before, and that newly arrived buses were being filled with passengers. You and Sihtric managed to hop onto the last bus in line and, as the bus was packed, the only option was to sit together.

'I just can't get rid of you, can I?' you laughed and looked at Sihtric.

'Tell me about it,' he rolled his eyes with a smile.

You both sat down and not much later the bus departed, enroute to your city's train station. The trip would take about an hour and a half, but because the bus got stuck in traffic it would take even longer. It was already dark outside and you struggled to keep your eyes open as the bus moved slowly, its engine humming you to sleep. You pulled your bag up your lap and used it as a pillow. You dozed off after a few minutes and Sihtric saw how you gradually leaned over further and further as you were truly asleep. He eventually grabbed your shoulder and pulled you to sit back up before your forehead could collide with the seat in front of you. You woke up, startled, and it took you a few seconds to remember where you were.

'Let me sleep,' you muttered in your sleepy state.

'You were about to bump your head into that chair,' Sihtric hissed softly, 'do you know how ridiculous you looked? You could at least thank me for stopping you from making a full clown out of yourself.'

'Oh, you're so kind, mister,' you retorted.

'Whatever,' he sighed, 'if you're going to sleep then just use my shoulder, so you won't draw any attention and embarrass us both.'

'Your shoulder?' you scoffed, 'never.'

But several minutes later you were dead asleep, your head resting against his shoulder, and Sihtric smiled satisfiedly. He gently woke you about an hour later when you were finally back in your city. It was late and you were clearly not fully awake yet, so Sihtric walked you to your bus stop, and he waited with you while the cold night air gradually woke you up again.

'Are you sure you're taking a bus home?' he asked after he studied the shady looking crowd that had gathered for the same bus you had to take.

'Yeah, why?'

'It just doesn't look like the safest ride.'

You looked at the people Sihtric was referring to and you agreed with him, but what other option did you have to get back home?

'It'll be fine,' you said, not very convincingly.

'Yeah, well,' Sihtric contemplated, then groaned, 'look, I live in that building,' he pointed to an apartment building across the street, 'let me give you a ride home. I don't think you should get on that bus.'

You thought about his offer for a moment and then declined.

'I appreciate it, but I don't want to be a nuisance. I'll be fine.'

Sihtric laughed, 'Lady, you've been a nuisance for two days already. Come,' he insisted, and you eventually gave in.

The drive back to your home was a pleasant one. You could enjoy each other's presence in silence without it feeling awkward, and you were actually sad you had to say goodbye once Sihtric pulled up your driveway.

'So,' he said and cleared his throat, 'you got any plans for the weekend?'

'Not really, why?' you asked and unbuckled your seatbelt.

'Well, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go somewhere and have a proper dinner with me?'

'With you?' you frowned and made a face, then smiled, 'yeah, sure. I'd like that.'

'Cool,' Sihtric smiled, 'I'll message you when I'm back home then.'

'Sure. You still owe me a coffee by the way.'

'You can forget about that coffee,' he chuckled, 'but how about a kiss?'

'A kiss?' you felt yourself blushing, 'hmm… tempting, but I'm not sure.'

You both smiled as your eyes darted between each other's eyes and lips, and you then leaned in at the same time. Sihtric cupped your cheek gently and he gave you a soft but firm kiss, which caused you to feel light headed once he pulled away.

'That was fine,' you rasped, 'but not as good as coffee.'

'You really are a nuisance,' Sihtric laughed and you both leaned back in without thinking.

'And you like it,' you said softly.

Sihtric hummed, 'I do.'

'Really?'

'Mhm,' he smiled and brushed his lips lightly against yours, then captured you in another kiss.

This time he kissed you with more confidence. He kissed you hard yet tenderly while he had your cheeks cupped. You allowed the kiss to deepen and brought one hand up to his neck as you felt his tongue stroke slowly against yours. Sihtric then swiftly unbuckled his own seatbelt and he pulled you over onto his lap with ease, showing off his strength. You straddled him as you made out in his car, slowly fogging up the windows, and Sihtric switched off the car engine. He brought his hand up to your neck, moving into your hair and he tangled his tattooed fingers in your locks to give you a firm tug. You gasped lightly, to which he smiled pleased and bit down on his lip, his mismatched eyes darting all over your figure with lust.

'Backseat,' he then ordered with a low voice.

You didn't even have to think about it and you squeezed yourself between the seats to the back. Sihtric was quick to follow and he pulled you onto his lap again.

'Are you clean?' he asked as he unbuttoned your jeans.

'Yeah,' you breathed while you worked his leather belt, 'you?'

'Yeah,' he husked, then froze for a moment, 'wait, are you on birth control?'

'Yes,' you reassured him with a chuckle, after which he pulled down your jeans with a sly smile.

You pushed off his coat and took off his sweater. You had seen his body before in photos, but you were even more impressed upon the sight of his physique in real life, and your mouth almost watered as you trailed your hands over his muscular chest. Sihtric grabbed your chin and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, before he flipped you over on your back. He teased your dripping folds with his fingers and he laughed softly.

'I just knew you'd be so fucking wet for me, sweetheart,' he breathed in your ear and lined himself up.

'Don't get cocky with me now, mister,' you murmured against his lips and kissed him again.

You dug your nails into his shoulder when he pushed his hardened length inside you.

'Fuck,' you gasped as he stretched and filled you up completely.

'Yeah, just like that,' he laughed darkly, 'clench around my cock like that, darling, making me feel really fucking good,' he whispered in your ear as he slowly pulled out, only to then slam back into you again.

'Ah!' you moaned and clawed at his biceps, leaving marks.

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed softly and looked down into your eyes after he stilled inside you, 'no snarky comeback this time?'

'Shut up,' you hissed and pulled his dishevelled hair, 'just fuck me.'

'I will,' he growled and began to take you with no remorse; hate fucking you but with a gentle undertone, because he had grown to like you.

Your moans and curses filled the car and spilled into each other's mouth in between heavy kisses as you fucked roughly in the backseat of his car. Sihtric then pulled out with no warning, making you cry out at the sudden loss, and he sat back to pull you in his lap again. You sank down his cock with ease now, but you gasped and mewled when he started to fuck into you hard from beneath you, holding your hips in a bruising grip and making you take him all the way until you could barely think anymore. And he chuckled mischievously when he felt your walls clench around his twitching cock, letting him know your climax was just as close as his own.

'You're gonna cum on my cock like a good girl,' he growled, 'you hear me, sweetheart?'

'Y-yes, mister,' you whined.

And the sight of Sihtric throwing his head back as he came inside you with a heavy grunt pushed you over your edge, making your vision blurred and your breath hitch in your throat while you felt his warmth inside of you and slowly drip out after he had stilled his movements. You were both out of breath when you dared to look at each other again after a few long seconds, and you then both bursted out laughing.

'I knew you could be an obedient girl for me,' Sihtric chuckled.

'Shut up,' you giggled and buried your face in his neck, still straddling him.

He pecked your cheek and then wrapped his arms around you, 'Was it good for you too?' he asked.

'Better than coffee,' you smiled, and then ended up kissing passionately once again.

After he pulled out you managed to grab some tissues from your bag in the front seat. Sihtric helped you clean up and get dressed decently again before he took care of himself. Once you were both dressed and had caught your breath, Sihtric pulled you into his arms, still seated in the back.

'You good, sweetheart?' he asked again, quietly, while he slowly stroked your arms with his thumbs.

'Yeah,' you smiled, 'you?'

'More than good,' he whispered and softly nuzzled your ear, 'more than good.'

'Look,' you said slowly, 'I'd invite you in… but my place is a mess right now.'

'Don't worry. I'd love to see your place, but I think we both should get some proper rest. It's been a long day.'

'It has,' you agreed and laced your fingers with his, then kissed his warm hands.

'I'm glad I bumped into you yesterday,' Sihtric whispered in your ear after a moment.

You gasped and turned to look at him, 'So it was you! You bumped into me!'

'Shh,' he smiled and hushed you with a kiss, 'I'll see you tomorrow, okay?'

'You will,' you said and grabbed your belongings from the front seat, then kissed his cheek and got out of his car, 'and don't forget to bring me that coffee you still owe me!'

'I'll consider it, darling,' Sihtric winked, and then puckered his lips to blow you a kiss.

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50 @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305 @carnationworld

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#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #tlk #sihtric fic #modern!sihtric

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fullscoreshenanigans · 2 months

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Assorted bits/trivia/propaganda: • Favorite volume cover poll can be found here, and favorite inner volume cover poll can be found here. • Chapter 47's art is Kaiu Shirai's favorite color chapter cover art per the "Tracks to the Neverland" exhibition book interview (from December 2020): "Amazingly drawn upper arms (and legs!) Everyone is drawn differently for their different ages! I adore the happy smiles of a mother and her daughters. It's a color page published on One Piece's 20th anniversary, so let me applaud the use of the straw hats and One Piece theme. I love it. Only Emma's hat is fringed and that's the best!" • Chapter 75's art is Demizu's fifth favorite color chapter cover art per the exhibition interview: "The theme was graduation, and I had a lot of trouble deciding the color of the clothes, which left a lasting impression on me. The color scheme is a bit mismatched thanks to the combination of bright colors like foreign uniforms and cherry blossoms, but I think I turned out beautifully." • Chapter 119 was the inspiration for the "The Guiding Star" short story originally published in Shounen Jump GIGA 2019 Summer Volumes 1–3 and eventually reprinted in the fourth light novel, "Films of Memories." (First part can be found here, translated by @presumenothing.) • I included the original spread of chapter 153 in WSJ because the "he is always alone" line kills me. This is also Shirai's fifth favorite color chapter cover art per the exhibition interview: "God. Representing Norman’s mental landscape like this..? I want to take a peek inside Demizu-sensei’s brain! The expression on Norman’s face, a burnt land's grief, frailty; Emma and Ray appearing there. It hit me so hard that I used the metaphor for the main story as well. I love it!" • Chapter 181 propaganda by @tutubola and some tag ramblings:

"i really like this actually. ray carrying one of the younger kids? norman w rolled up pants? the vulnerability???? all of them w rolled up pants/skirts actually. gilda looks so cute. and look at sherry she's so obsessed w norman it's so cute. i would make this more elaborate but i cant think rn be back in 46-79 business days (#it's the more-than-earned casualness of it all combined with it being one of those pictures you can hear the sound of #the soft ebb and flow of the waves and cry of the seagulls #with the warmth emanating from this scene of this family that against all odds was able to overturn destiny #and come out together just as close as not more so than where we started with them in the very first chapter #enhanced by the gentle hues of the setting sun to parallel the end of their long and hard-fought journey #and the warm air that's carried by an equally gentle sea breeze~ #shoutout specifically to seeing Anna‚ Don‚ Norman‚ and Ray naturally falling into their elder sibling roles #showcasing one of the fundamental cores of this series #healingly wholesome)

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whitedarkmoonflower · 3 months

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The Curse

Pairing: Sihtric x Skade

Authors note: this story is for you my dear @alexagirlie and @thenameswinter99 I know Skade is not the most popular character and there probably won't be many readers to this fic but I loved her and I think she deserved better. So this is my attempt at giving her a happy ending.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, angst, mention of blood, curses, canon death of a character

Summary: as Uhtred's path crosses with the mighty seer Skade, there is only one way to break the pattern of violence and only one man capable of doing it as the power of love appears stronger than the power of hate

Word Count: 6,8 K 🙈 (I know, I'm sorry)

It was not the chill of the evening air, nor the fresh and cool breeze teasingly brushing its cold fingers against her skin, that made her shudder. She wouldn’t show it anyway. With fists clenched and nails digging into her flesh, her gaze lashed the group of men down the stairs, burning with hatred like a whip striking bare skin.

It was that daunting feeling of utter helplessness, of being tossed and turned by the currents of fate, allowed only a sharp, desperate gasp that seared her aching lungs before being dragged back under the water, that made her stomach clench and her inner core tremble like a candle flame wavering in a draft. But not a muscle shuddered in her pale, sharply defined, beautiful face framed by an unruly swirl of blond hair.

Once again, she was being betrayed and traded, passed from hand to hand like a mere commodity, a piece of silver exchanged for another's safety. In a different life, the naive girl she once was would have cried, bargained for her life and safety, begged not to be given away.

But that Skade no longer existed. She had drowned long ago in a sea of despairing tears, her grave dug by the greed and power-lust of men who saw her as nothing more than a plaything to fulfil their desires, a potion to quench their thirst for influence, a weapon to be used in their conquest for dominion. That small, trusting part of her died, killed by false promises and the realisation that there was no goodness left in those around her.

There had been times when she cursed her gift, praying to the gods to take it back, to release her from its crushing power. She had blamed it for her fate, for the darkness that trailed her, ripping away those she loved and leaving her alone and aching. But that was before. Before she surrendered and accepted the part of herself she had once despised. From the grave of her suffering, a new Skade was born – a proud creature of darkness, leaving a trail of pain and blood in her wake, destined to test those foolish enough to assume power over her, and to punish without remorse those who failed, and she had embraced that destiny fully.

Heasten's ugly smirk and greedy, narrow eyes seemed to undress her with their gaze alone, making every hair on her body stand on end as she raised her head to meet the eyes of the men who dared treat her as a piece of merchandise.

The bearded Irishman's deep brown eyes looked back somewhat sheepishly, as if understanding the absurdity of the bargain struck moments ago. With her head held high, she turned to the young Dane standing on the other side of her.

His cautious mismatched gaze had puzzled her from the very beginning. She had been sure he despised her, anger flickering in the depths of those two pools, as he yanked her hands behind her back and put a gag on her mouth in an attempt to silence her. A coward, she had silently dubbed him. And yet it had been him who brought her fur and a bowl of hot stew on that first night in the dungeon. Why? What did he want from her? What hidden plan lurked behind those large, expressive eyes? What drove him? A yearning for power? Greed? Jealousy?

The annoying sound of the shutters creaking in the wind mixed with desperate cries of some lonely crow, slicing through the insidious calmness of the dark, added another layer of eeriness to the nightly scene. Sihtric could feel Skade’s frame trembling, though she tried to suppress it, to not show it, her words flowing from her full, sensual lips with the certainty of a queen. Yet he perceived it – that hidden inner quiver, the uneven shimmering of her misty breath in the air, her darting eyes like those of a trapped animal, her clenched fists betraying the facade.

Uhtred and his ingenious plans - it was not the first time his lord's peculiar notions of honour and loyalty had brought them perilously close to the great gates of Valhalla. Sihtric did not mind, for it was part of the warrior's path he had willingly chosen when swearing his oath. He would have preferred to fight, to cleave through the Danes, painting the mud beneath his feet with their warm, thick blood. But the choice was made, and the bargain was struck although it didn’t feel right for him.

Skade’s hair tickled Sihtric’s cheek, a fleeting feeling of unexpected softness alerting his already sharpened senses, as she turned her head, voice steady and laced with disdain, addressing Uhtred.

“And you are cursed once more, Uhtred of Bebbanburg and you will wither.”

She was a danger, a venomous snake, her poison deadlier than the sharpest blade, seeping into the minds and souls of those who dared cross her path, twisting their thoughts, corrupting their very essence and bringing out the worst in men. A bringer of madness, a harbinger of chaos – those who underestimated her did so at their own peril. And yet, beneath the all consuming fire in those dazzling blue eyes, there was something fragile, a flicker of vulnerability that captured and didn’t let go of him.

From the moment he first saw her, curses dripping from her lips, Sihtric felt an inexplicable urge to envelop her in the warmth of his embrace, offering a refuge from the darkness that had consumed her soul for too long.

Yet she wanted none of his comfort, her mind fixated on Uhtred from the instant their eyes met. She was a test sent by the gods, Sihtric was certain, and Uhtred was failing it spectacularly.

Skade turned, her burning gaze forcing Sihtric to meet her eyes, and for a fleeting moment the world around him faded into an incoherent blur of sounds and images. "Cowards," her smirk seemed to challenge, or perhaps seek reassurance.

Sihtric longed to speak, but the words froze on his lips, the silent promise in his warm gaze swallowed by the night's darkness. She wanted none of his promises, yet he made one silently to himself - he would find her.

The old wooden steps creaked an eerie, mocking laugh as Skade took her first step down towards Heasten and his men. Unhurried yet unwavering, each measured stride carried her towards her new master and an altered fate, her steady gait betraying the admirable strength of will hidden beneath that fragile and slender frame.

Heasten's extended hand remained frozen in midair, stopped by Skade's icy gaze, as she turned one last time towards the men standing on the top of the stairs. It was that last glance that remained burned into Sihtric’s mind - a warning, a challenge, an unspoken plea all mixed in one single flash of searing vulnerability. For the briefest of moments, her defiant mask slipped, offering him a glimpse of the fragile heart she guarded so fiercely, pleading for someone to finally see the woman beneath the iron shell.

"Sihtric, tell me this. Does Uhtred want me dead?" Skade's voice carried over the crackling fireplace, all eyes suddenly fixing on him.

A chill crept up his spine as he replied, "He's undecided. Can't make up his mind whether to hump you or kill you." The nonchalance in his voice sounded forced even to his own ears. It was the way she looked at him, suspicion sparking in her eyes. Though he may have fooled the men, blinded by ambition and rivalry, he had a feeling neither Brida nor Skade believed him completely. Yet neither woman had spoken against him either.

The atmosphere in the whole camp was more than peculiar, the air was charged with distrust and feuding. The gazes of drunken youngsters, drowning their concerns and boredom in ale, spoke of uncertainty and eagerness for something to happen, while the spirit between the older warriors ranged between cautious and openly disapproving. Ragnar's death had left the Danes completely rudderless, crushing their fighting spirit. And the pathetic pissing contest between Heasten, and Bloodhair only made things only worse.

“And what about you?” Skade continued, her scrutinising gaze not letting go of him.

“What about me?” Sihtric tried to pretend clueless.

“Do you want to hump me or kill me?”

Under the weight of all eyes awaiting his answer, the gentle roar of the fire seemed deafening to Sihtric's ears.

The flickering patterns of light and shadow danced over Skade’s face, making her look like some creature from an old legend. A small burst of sparks erupted from the fresh log as it slowly became engulfed in the blaze, dancing around her like small fading stars.

She is like the fire itself, Sihtric thought, beautiful yet dangerous. Just as the flames could bring warmth and life or rage with destructive force, so too did she radiate a bewitching power that could either ignite a man's deepest passions or reduce him to ashes.

"Would you believe me if I said neither?" Sihtric raised his gaze from the flames to meet hers.

A mocking laugh escaped Skade's lips as disbelief gave way to a strange mix of surprise and puzzlement, her eyes locked with his unwavering stare.

The young warrior was a mystery for her. Men were usually so transparent, easy to read and manipulate, but not him. What had she missed? And why was he here? That warm light dancing in his mismatched eyes whenever she caught his hidden glances - what did it mean? Time would tell. Few emotions drove men in this life, and sooner or later, the pretty boy would show his teeth and bare his true, ugly soul. Of that, she was certain, but her interest was piqued nonetheless.

The rhythmic sound of whetstone gliding over metal was always soothing to Sihtric, helping him gather his thoughts. So engrossed was he in the process that he almost didn't notice the tent flaps flutter open, only raising his head when a shadow obscured the candlelight.

"What the hell..." Sihtric jumped to his feet, sword pointing at the intruder who had snuck up on him, only to be met by the grinning stare of two incredibly blue, deep eyes.

"I came to see if you spoke true today by the fire," Skade's voice was barely above a whisper as she stepped closer, tilting her head back to let the blade graze her exposed skin. Sihtric remained motionless, muscles taut, his eyes tracing her every movement.

"Go on then, do it," she mocked, challenge dancing in the depths of her gaze. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to bed me?" With the tip of her finger, Skade slowly pushed the sword aside and began circling him like a predator stalking prey. "You crave me, I can see it. What are you waiting for? Claim me, if you dare."

Hips swinging, with deliberate slowness she placed one foot before the other as she drew nearer, teasingly biting on her index finger. The sweet fragrance of rose oil hit Sihtric’s nostrils, his breath hitching involuntary as his grip on the sword’s hilt loosened. Lowering the blade, he let it slip from his grasp to poke the ground.

"What do you want from me?" Sihtric’s voice came out all dry and gravelly.

“Tell me, what is it you desire?” Skade purred, trailing her fingers up his chest to toy with the neckline of his armour. “Power? Wealth? Reputation? Do you wish to be the King of all Danes? Are you strong enough to own me?” her thumb brushed his lips as she looked up at him through the thickness of her lashes.

“There is nothing I cannot give you, but you must choose your path now,” the strange gleam in Skade’s eyes was hypnotic, her voice a lullabying sough, washing against Sihtric’s heightened senses. For a second he forgot about everything – his mission, his lord, his oath, his friends – it all faded away, leaving just the two of them trapped in whatever spell she was weaving.

Was it the gentle whisper of the evening breeze against his skin, slipping through the half-closed tent flaps and extinguishing the flickering candles? Or was it that strange inner voice that had saved his life on the battlefield countless times, warning him of impending danger? Sihtric couldn’t tell for certain, but a profound sense of presence enveloped him, an ineffable and tender force that broke through the veil of magic surrounding them and made him see her again – that scared little girl who had looked at him from behind those guarded eyes on that first night in the dungeon when he brought her a blanket and a steaming bowl of stew.

It had been just a fleeting glimpse, but he knew she was there, buried beneath layers of hatred and spite. This was the Skade he longed to pull closer, to embrace, to shield from the demons that haunted her. This was the Skade he reached out for as eyes radiating warmth he leaned in closer, and with a deep, rumbling sigh pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was achingly tender, his lips brushing against hers with the delicacy of a butterfly's wings. Sihtric's calloused fingers cradled her face with a featherlight touch, as if she were a fragile flower that might wither under firmer pressure. His mouth moved against hers in a slow, reverent dance, savouring every sensation without demanding or taking. It was a kiss born of pure affection, free of any desire to claim or possess.

Gradually, the kiss deepened, but the tenderness remained. Sihtric's tongue teased along the seam of Skade's lips, seeking entry, and when she parted them with a soft whimper, he tasted her fully – a sweet, intoxicating blend of innocence and longing. His kiss was worshipful, reverent, treating her like the most precious and delicate of treasures. It was the sweetest and breathtaking kiss that had ever touched Skade's lips, leaving her quenched and thirsting for more all at once.

A soft moan escaped her lips as Sihtric pulled away, his palm resting on her neck, and he tugged her back until their foreheads touched. "I don't want to possess you or demand anything from you," Sihtric murmured, slowly withdrawing himself from her space. "I'm not playing those games of yours. I simply want to know you, the real you." His tone was soft but resolute.

Skade tilted her head to the side, her large, inquisitive eyes scrutinising Sihtric's face, searching for deception, a trap, the real reason behind his withdrawal. The longer his gaze remained steady, locked with hers, the more she felt anger coil in the pit of her stomach. How dare he think he could understand her? How dare he reject her under the pretence of caring?

A wry, mocking laugh tore from Skade's throat as her beautiful face contorted with fury, anger replacing the lingering warmth that had blossomed within her from Sihtric's kiss. He kept his distance, unmoving, and the icy rage of a spurned woman flooded her veins.

"You have chosen your path, Sihtric Kjartansson," the words left her mouth like arrows unleashed from a taut bowstring, meant to pierce and maim. "And you have chosen doom. You are cursed from this moment on, just as your former lord is cursed. Your life belongs to me now." Her voice grew louder, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, as she fought back tears—a crack in her defences she could not afford to reveal to anyone.

Sihtric's kiss had awakened something she thought long dead and buried—her hopes, her dreams of another life. A life where love's tender caresses might have a place. A life she had convinced herself she no longer wanted nor needed.

"What have I done to deserve your wrath?" Sihtric's simple question just intensified the fury burning within her.

"It's not about what you've done," Skade spat venomously, her voice quivering with shame and embarrassment. She couldn't admit, even to herself, the depth of the scars Sihtric's gentle kiss had reopened, scorching her soul and ravaging her heart. "It's about what you inevitably would do, what men always do. Traitors, cowards, cravens—you are either too weak to accept me or you use me for your purposes, only to discard me once the tide turns. No one has ever cared for me. Don’t pretend you do."

With those last, searing words, she whirled around and stormed out of the tent, fleeing Sihtric’s unblinking gaze.

Skade could barely recall how she stumbled back to her tent. Her vision blurred with tears she could no longer suppress, Skade collapsed to her knees, a soul-wrenching cry ripping through her. Her trembling fingers brushed against her lips, desperately trying to summon the memory of Sihtric's kiss—the tender touch of his mouth on hers, his uneven breath mingling with her own, the slight tremor in his fingers as they caressed her cheek, betraying his own nervousness. That feather-light, gentle touch had burned her to the very core, shattering the unyielding walls she had built around her heart, leaving her defenceless and raw.

Skade's chest heaved with sobs. She had convinced herself that she needed no one, that she was untouchable. Yet, here she was, brought to her knees by the simple, honest touch of a man who had dared to reach out to her. The gentle caress that had felt like a promise of something more now felt like a cruel reminder of what she could never have.

As the tears streamed down her face, she realised that the walls she had built were not just a defence against the world, but a prison that had kept her from feeling anything real. And now, with those walls in ruins, she was left to face the raw, aching truth of her loneliness and desire.

The clash of steel and the savage, earsplitting roars of the combatants filled the air, drawing an ever-growing crowd of spectators to the makeshift square at the camp's centre. The Norns, those inexorable weavers of fate, seemed to favour Bloodhair. With a deft manoeuvre, he disarmed Haesten, and the thunderous crash of Bloodhair's war axe against Haesten's splintering shield reverberated through the assembled throng.

At that very moment, as Bloodhair raised his axe to deliver the deathblow, the scales of destiny tipped with cruel inevitability. Sihtric's eyes locked onto the fearful, bewildered expression contorting Bloodhair's face. The mighty warrior's body seemed to betray him, refusing to obey his commands. Following Bloodhair's stricken gaze, Sihtric's eyes fell upon Skade.

With a beastly roar, Bloodhair swung his axe again, but realisation struck him like a dagger to the heart—the battle was inexplicably, irrevocably lost. He could do nothing but attempt to drag the source of his downfall into death with him. But Skade was faster.

Her knives shimmered in the air, winking maliciously before burying themselves in Bloodhair's flesh. Blood splattered Skade's hands in crimson droplets as she watched the warlord's body crumple to the ground and a satisfied smile curled her lips.

It was late when Sihtric finally returned to camp, having used the ensuing chaos to slip away unnoticed. He paused outside his tent, listening to the sounds of the encroaching night. It was quiet, even too quiet, the usual raucous laughter and drunken banter around the fire pits conspicuously absent. Bloodhair’s death so soon after Ragnar’s had hit the Danes hard again.

"They all want me dead," a voice greeted Sihtric from the corner of his tent, and even if he shuddered innerly, he didn’t dare to show it.

"I'm not surprised," he responded, slowly removing his heavy fur cloak and draping it over a bench. Turning, he faced Skade, sitting on the layer of furs that served as his bed, arms wrapped around her legs with knees pulled up and chin resting on them.

Sihtric lit a few candles, and their flickering light danced over Skade's face. He carefully approached her, stopping just before her small, crouched form on the ground, his well-built frame towering over her. Skade looked up at Sihtric, but quickly averted her gaze. Or did it merely appear that way? Had something truly changed in the way she regarded him?

Sihtric slowly crouched down before her. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Defiance suddenly tainted Skade's voice.

"Why did you kill Bloodhair?"

"He wanted to kill me. Everybody saw that, he swung his axe at me." Sihtric could sense her body tensing again, the protective veil of anger and resentment clouding her beautiful blue eyes.

"I'm not judging you. I just want to know. You poisoned him, didn't you?" Sihtric was certain of his guess. There was no other rational explanation for what he had witnessed.

Slowly, he extended his hand, carefully brushing a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. Skade flinched at his touch, her breathing quickening, but she didn't attempt to avoid it as her gaze fell and fixated on the uneven ground before her feet.

"He deserved that," she finally spoke, her voice hoarse and lacking its usual mocking hardness.

Sihtric waited, keeping his eyes on Skade. The remarkable change in her demeanour both puzzled and filled him with hope. He didn't want to push her, but he couldn't shake the strange feeling that this was precisely what she had come for – to tell her side of the story.

Lowering himself to the ground, levelling with her, he began as the silence stretched, "You know I've never left Uhtred's service." He knew she didn't truly trust him, so offering her leverage might help. "You're too smart to believe that fairy tale of mine. Uhtred is here. He's come to claim you back, just as he promised."

Skade raised her head, eyes locking with Sihtric's for a fleeting moment before turning back to the ground, her gaze strangely empty.

"Winter was closing in," she said, her voice trembling as she tightened her arms around her knees, as if trying to hold herself together. "The harvest yielded little due to the unrelenting drought. Then the priests arrived with soldiers, taking half our meagre stores as tithes to the church and king. Father protested that as Danes we owed no dues to the church, but they would not listen. What remained could never nourish five hungry mouths."

Skade fell silent, but Sihtric patiently awaited her words.

"The slaver must have paid a hefty sum. At first, I didn't understand mom's reddened, tear-filled eyes when she pressed a small bundle of bread and cheese into my hands. It was my own father who took my hand and led me to that man, telling me to be a good girl and obey him. Only when father's hand opened to accept a weighty purse of silver did I grasp that this journey would never take me home again."

Sihtric rose to his knees and slowly crawled nearer until he settled on the furs beside Skade. He ached to enfold her in his arms, to draw her close, but hesitated, not knowing whether his solace was welcome.

"Can you...hold me?" Skade's whisper was barely audible, her gaze still fixed on the ground before her feet.

Cautiously, Sihtric slid his arms around her shoulders, pulling her slightly trembling form against him. To his surprise, she leaned into his embrace, resting her head against his chest as her eyes slipped closed.

"Is this alright?" he murmured, lips grazing her hair.

"Yes," she breathed out, the word a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

There was something so calming, so innocent and pure in the way he held her. His embrace, firm and unwavering, grounded her, his heartbeat beneath her ear setting a new steady pace for her own racing heart. The warmth of his body gradually seeped into her chilled skin as the taut tension in her muscles yielded to a soothing lassitude.

"The next stop was a Danish settlement, where Bloodhair noticed me...and I was sold again." Skade's voice drifted away to a near-whisper. "It was there that I learned to curse each new dawn I awoke, not yet granted death's release. Half a year later, my first vision came," she continued. "I saw his brother and right hand crushed beneath a falling tree, so vividly, as if I were there. I told Bloodhair, but he only laughed. Three days later, a huge storm ambushed the scouting troop in the woods, and it transpired exactly as I had seen. I went to sleep as a pleasure slave and woke up as a seer."

Sihtric tightened his embrace, pulling her deeper into the protective circle of his arms. His calloused fingers began gently carding through her hair, stroking the unruly strands into soft waves.

With each soothing caress, he could feel the rigid tension slowly ebbing from her slight frame. Her breathing deepened and steadied against his chest and Skade melted further into his solid warmth.

Sihtric continued the tender ministrations, he mapped the contours of her face with feather-light trails of his fingertips - the delicate sweep of her brow, the curve of her cheekbone, the line of her jaw. Reverently, he smoothed away the worry lines etched around her eyes and mouth, as if he could wipe away the years of suffering with loving strokes.

"I'm scared, Sihtric," she said softly, her voice catching. "I have fulfilled my oath, I have revenged myself. The only purpose that kept driving me, that kept me alive, is gone."

Sihtric was silent for a long moment, holding her close as he gathered his thoughts. "There is so much more to this life than revenge," he murmured finally. "If only you would let me, I could show you. If only you could believe me, if only for a little while."

His motions slowed but did not cease, a silent promise to stay at her side for as long as she would allow. Sihtric planted a tender kiss to the crown of her head, then simply held her, letting the profound silence envelop them.

The solitary tree at the far end of the camp greeted them with outstretched branches like giant arms casting eerie shadows across the moonlit ground. Skade's gaze found him from afar - Uhtred, his broad frame leaning against the ancient trunk, waiting for her arrival.

She released Sihtric's hand, her steps measured and unhurried as ever. Yet she could not resist a backward glance, seeking reassurance in the tender warmth of his eyes. Something had indelibly shifted; her heart stuttered wildly in her breast, a hummingbird trapped behind bone.

Uhtred stepped towards her, one arm extending in mute invitation to draw her into his embrace. "I'm ready," he murmured, a wan smile ghosting across his lips though it failed to reach his eyes.

"I'm sorry..." Skade's voice emerged softened, lacking its usual steely edge. "But I'm not."

Bewilderment creased Uhtred's brow as his arm dropped limply to his side. "What do you mean?"

Meeting his stare unflinchingly, Skade replied with a melancholic smile, "You were never cursed, Uhtred of Bebbanburg. I wanted you to believe it, and like most men, you were easy to deceive." She shook her head slowly. "This is your life, shaped by your choices alone. You must learn to shoulder the weight of that responsibility, and it is no light load. It is always easier to blame others - a curse or the whims of gods."

Uhtred's face slowly contorted in rage. "You lied to me all this time?" he snarled, grabbing Skade's arm in a forceful grip and pulling her closer.

Sihtric watched the scene unfold with rising concern, jealousy coiling like a venomous snake around his pounding heart, sinking its fangs into vulnerable flesh. Had her vulnerability meant nothing? Was it merely a fleeting moment to be forgotten and cast aside at the first glimpse of a new prospect?

Uhtred did not love her; he despised her, feared her - of that, Sihtric was certain. And yet there she stood, smiling up at the man, allowing herself to be drawn into his embrace. Sihtric's jaw clenched as he wrenched his gaze away, struggling to maintain an impassive front.

"I merely told you what you wanted to hear, Lord," Skade said evenly, resolutely freeing her arm from Uhtred's grasp. "I'm sorry, but I have found a greater man to follow. Someone who does not fear who I am, someone who truly cares for me."

"Who? Haesten?" Uhtred's jaw went slack with disbelief that the woman he had risked everything to retrieve could choose someone as despicable over him.

"Sihtric, Lord," Skade corrected with a soft smile. She took a resolute step back, then another before turning to where Sihtric stood, chewing his lips bloody. His eyes widened as she approached, pausing before him to extend her arm. He could not help but reach out hastily, grasping her outstretched hand in his calloused palms and drawing her nearer.

"Show me," she said softly, averting her gaze in insecurity. "Please, show me that other life. Life beyond revenge and hurt."

Slowly, he reached up to tilt her chin towards him, thumb hovering over her lips as if struggling to believe the words that had left them.

"He is here! Uhtred is here!" A shout pierced the night's silence, and Sihtric's grip tightened around Skade's hand.

"Sihtric!" Uhtred's stern voice gave him pause.

"Lord, she is with me," Sihtric stated firmly, meeting his lord's gaze without a hint of hesitation as his hand cradled Skade's like the most precious treasure and in the next moment, they were propelled into frantic motion, running towards the boats.

The first rays of the rising sun streamed through the window, casting the small room in a tender glow of orange and blue. The bed's gentle creak elicited a soft giggle from Skade, the only sound breaking the serene silence that enveloped them.

Her head nestled on Sihtric’s bare chest, she listened to the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Her fingers traced lazy circles over his abdomen, while his rough hand drew slow, deliberate patterns on her back, sending delightful shivers through her. Even if a horde of Danes were to storm into the room this very moment, she wouldn't notice; every fibre of her being was absorbed in the profound sense of peace.

Their forms pressed together, skin against skin, she welcomed the warmth of Sihtric’s body, letting it seep into her bones and dissolve any lingering chill.

“Am I still cursed?” Sihtric asked with a playful chuckle, his hand never pausing in its gentle caress of her back.

“You know you never were,” Skade replied, her voice dreamy and soft.

“But what if I don’t mind?” he teased. “What if I want my life to belong to you?” His tone grew serious, and Skade raised her head to meet his gaze. His eyes, one blue and one brown, held a warmth that had captivated her from the moment they first met.

Slowly, she draped her leg over his waist, encircling him with her thighs as she shifted to prop her head on her elbow. Sihtric reached for her other hand, bringing it to his lips to place tender kisses on her palm. The combination of his soft kisses and the gentle strokes of his fingers against her back filled her with a lightness that seemed to lift her soul.

The gentle sunlight grew warmer, and the room seemed to breathe with the slow rhythm of their embrace. Skade sighed contentedly, letting her head fall back onto Sihtric’s chest.

“You make me forget there’s a world beyond these walls,” Sihtric murmured, his voice a soothing rumble that vibrated through his chest. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

“Maybe that’s because, right now, there is no world beyond these walls,” she whispered back, her eyes half-closed, basking in the feeling of his hand on her skin.

Skade leaned in, letting her tongue savour the salty tang of Sihtric’s skin. She grazed his waistline with soft, teasing kisses, her lips and teeth exploring the terrain of his body. She moved upward, her warm breath fanning over his skin as she kissed her way to his chest. The hot sensation of her firm tongue circling his nipple, followed by a gentle nibble, drew a sharp hiss from Sihtric. His fingers involuntarily dug deeper into her soft flesh, a mix of pleasure and need rippling through him.

Sihtric’s hands glided down her spine, over the curve of her buttocks, and along her upper thighs, their hold tightening as he pulled her on top of him, legs on each side of his body to straddle his lap. A soft yet needy moan escaped Skade’s lips, feeling his hardening cock pressing against her core.

Her fingers trailed up his chest with a delicate touch until her hands rested on his broad shoulders. She leaned in closer and ran her fingers through his hair, her touch as light as a whisper.

Sihtric’s calloused fingertips grazed the skin of her arms, further up over her shoulders until his hand rested on her neck. He pulled her closer and his mouth claimed hers in a searing kiss. This wasn't the achingly tender caress from before that had melted her resistance and crumbled her walls of protection. This kiss was hungry, passionate, a clash of wills and wants. Sihtric's tongue delved past her parted lips, tasting her, claiming her. His large hands slid into her hair, angling her head as he deepened the kiss with a low groan rumbling from his chest.

Skade melted against him, her nails digging into his shoulders as if he were the only thing anchoring her. She met his passion with her own, teeth nipping at his lower lip, her tongue dancing with his in a heady duel, fanning the heat kindling in the pit of her belly to a searing flame. Wetness pooled between her legs, as her hardened nipples brushed against Sihtric’s chest.

Hesitantly, unwillingly their lips let go of each other, chests heaving, and she buried her face in the curve of Sihtric’s neck, teeth scraping his skin, nipping and sucking marks on his sensitive flesh, sending a delightful shiver through Sihtric’s body.

Sihtric let his hands wander down her spine, teasing sensual strokes tickling her skin before he gripped her hips and urged her down against his crotch. Low groan rumbled through him at the feeling of Skade’s hot and dripping core sliding over his length, covering it with her slick.

Skade’s slender fingers traced the lines of his face with her fingertips, memorising every curve, every angle. "I was so lost before I met you," she breathed, rolling her hips against his, a breathy moan leaving her lips as Sihtric’s cock brushed against her perl. "Wandering through life like a ghost, haunted by my past. But you... you brought me back to life."

Sihtric looked at her, a gleam in his mismatched eyes, his hands cupping her breasts, eliciting another moan from Skade as his lips wrapped around her nipple, suckling on it gently at first. She moaned loudly and, feeling her body responding, he sucked harder, breathing in the floral aroma of her skin mingled with the salty scent of sweat.

Sihtric’s lips were warm and inviting, the pink of his tongue gliding teasingly over her nipples as he tasted her. Skade’s hips started to move faster, needy moans and hisses rolling over her lips.

She trembled, feeling arousal and pleasure building up in her with each lap of Sihtric’s tongue, each move of her hips, brushing her sensitive bundle against Sihtric’s fully hard and weeping cock, coating it with her wetness.

Sihtric moaned in pleasure, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He was burning with desire, but the last thing he wanted was for her to feel as if she didn’t have the choice but to give herself to him. He wanted it to be trully her decision.

Skade felt her core starting to throb with a greedy need to feel him inside her. The way he surrendered himself to her touch, giving her the choice, letting her determine what will happen next, made her want him, desire clouding her mind, yet she hesitated, a strange fear lingering in the back of her mind, a remnant from her past.

"I'm choosing you. All of you – the pain, the rage, the softness, the yearning. I want to know every part of you, if you'll let me," Sihtric’s voice was raw, thick with a mix of lust and longing. His eyes fluttered open, locking his gaze with Skade’s. “Will you let me? Will you have me?” he asked, the earnestness in his voice the final weight tipping the scales.

Skade’s hand travelled down between them, aligning Sihtric’s cock with her cunt. A heavy sigh quivering in her chest she slowly sank down, taking in the whole length of him, savouring every inch of his thick and long cock filling and stretching her. They both moaned heavily as her hips met Sihtric’s, and he was finally fully sheathed within her.

Sihtric remained still, his hands on her hips and his large, tender eyes studying Skade’s face.

She felt her walls adjusting to Sihtric’s cock, embracing him and pulsing in arousal as she started to move. Sihtric groaned in pleasure, his hands grabbing tighter her hips.

Palms pressed against Sihtric’s chest, Skade steadied herself, the grounding feeling of his warm and slightly sweaty skin filling her with a strange feeling of elation. She fastened her movements, snapping her hips against his pelvis, and soon the air was filled with heavy whines and moans, rolling over their parted lips.

Sihtric’s hands landed on her buttocks, holding them in a firm grip, as he started to thrust his hips up against her, his movements growing faster and deeper with each thrust as her back arched and her nails dug in Sihtric’s flesh, leaving marks in their wake.

Skade didn’t expect her climax to build up so quickly, but there was no escape from the pleasure building up within her with increasing speed, her walls spasming and clenching stronger and stronger with each thrust, delight infiltrating every cell of her body.

“Oh, Sihtric, I’m so close …” she whined, supporting herself by grabbing the edge of the headboard, her knuckles turning white from the restraint.

“Don’t fight against it, let it go. I got you,” Sihtric whispered.

“Oh gods,” a loud moan ripped through her trembling body as Sihtric licked his fingers and reached between them, placing his thumb at her sensitive perl and starting to move around it, putting just the right pressure to make her breath catch in her chest.

For the first time in her life, Skade felt ready and willing to let go, to surrender control and entrust herself to Sihtric’s gentle yet passionate touch. His hot, heavy breath teased her skin, leaving her trembling and aching with desire—craving more—more of his kisses, more of his heated touch, more of everything he had to give.

Breath panting, she whined, as her eyes started to roll back in her head.

“Good girl!” Sihtric praised her. “Cum for me. Let me show you the stars,” he whispered, watching as Skade rode him, bouncing wildly up and down on his cock, her last remnants of self control being washed away by the raspy sound of his voice.

Tears of raw happiness streamed down her flushed cheeks as she submitted herself to him wholly and completely, with no hesitation, no regret.

Skade came with a loud moan, her walls spasming around Sihtric’s cock and body shaking in waves of pure bliss, her climax sweeping her racing mind empty of all thoughts, all emotions apart from one. Love.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly loved, and it was beautiful. It was indescribable, like taking her first breath after a lifetime of suffocating.

Sihtric felt Skade’s walls spasming around him as he kept fucking her though her orgasm and after a few more thrusts he followed her, his groans filling the air as he spilled deep inside her, imprinting himself on her walls.

Skade crushed against his chest, and Sihtric’s hands wrapped around her quivering body, pulling her tightly in his embrace as they both gasped for breath.

"I want to stay like this forever," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sihtric smiled, a mixture of mischief and sincerity in his expression. "Forever is a long time," he said, his fingers trailing down her spine, sending a delightful shiver through her body. "But I would gladly spend every moment of it with you."

“Then your life is mine, future Lord of Dunholm, but your path is your own.”

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