#my dog laying on my legs: why do u betray me mother

[queens-webhead]

i’m a few hours into Stray at this point and my mind has simply… made up its mind that every time the cat makes the one noise after they jump is because they’re pissed at me for doing a wider jump than usual (since it doesn’t happen every jump)

so basically it’s been hours of just:

cat: *brgh*

me, aloud: sorry

[stilinskitpose]

Pining over him // Peter Hale

Pairing: Peter Hale x female reader

Warnings: nsfw , smut , slight daddy kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex, tonnnn of dirty talk and just a lot of sexy sin (plotless kind of)

Characters: Peter, Derek, Stiles, Scott, implies pack, y/n

Summery: The young reader has been fantasising about the feeling of being with a real man for a while now, a real man being no other than the notorious Peter Hale. However, it’s hard to be taken seriously when Peter thinks you are no more than an annoying little teenage girl.

Word Count: lost count it’s a ton

Authors Note: This is my first time posting on tumblr, let alone posting a smut imagine soooo I don’t know how this will turn out. I’m just going with the flow of my hormonal teenage instincts ;)

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“Y/n, did you even listen to a word that I just said?”

The deepness of the voice made you snap out of you staring at the entertaining spider that was crawling up the corner wall of Dereks loft, which caused you to jump suddenly on your squished position on the coach, trapped between two clowns, Scott and Stiles.

The quiet yelp you let out made Stiles stiffle a snort causing you to elbow him in the shoulder. The fucker deserved that. You let out a content sigh and an evil smile when you heard a sound of pain from your annoying brother from another mother. What can I say, the pain he feels makes me wither in complete pleasure. I snort at my chain of thoughts and look up to see a confused Derek Hale.

"Yeah sorry, I was just-", Trailing off mid sentence thinking of a viable reason for not listening to the former Alpha. Thinking it would be funny to tell them about the entertaining spider that just crawled under the crack of the wall on the other side of the spacious loft.

“There was a spider” You answer timidly, grimacing at yourself for sounding so stupid in the room full of your pack. Derek looks at you quizzingly, you giving him the most innocent look you could muster, he sighs before letting a small smile come across his features from your utter randomness.

“I was just telling you how we need to keep you somewhere safe incase the Darach decides to pay you a visit” Derek says quickly, you sigh in annoyance hating being treated like a defenceless little girl. You understood that you weren’t anything supernatural or anything but you would think Derek would have a little faith in you since you were so handy with a frying pan from being in a near death experience with the twin Alphas not so long ago. You chuckle subconsciously at the memory.

A mutter of agreements are heard from around the loft from your oh so fellow pack members. Betrayed and defeated, you try voice your opinion on the matter.

“What? No” You probably looked like a kicked puppy. You definatly felt like one. You continued “I’m not some helpless human Derek. Stiles is more helpless than me!” You whine flicking Stiles in the head which he repeated the action harder on me causing me to poke him in the ribs.

“Why has this suddenly turned into bash Stiles day? You know I have feelings too” Stiles offendingly says, his arms spazzing at his sides to try and prove his point.

“When am I ever nice to you” you scoff jokingly earning a chuckle in agreement from him before he went back to listening to the arguement infront of him wishing he had a bowl of popcorn to go along with it.

Derek ignores Stiles and resumes telling me that it’s for my own good. Blah blah.

“Where will I even go anyway? It’s not like I have a line of people waiting to protect me from the looming and pending doom of death itself” You replied, words laced with exaggeration.

“I’ll look after her, it’s not like I have anything better to do”

The husky voice came from the corner of the room shadows dancing across the body of the person that is wanting to ‘look after her’. What am I, a dog? Y/n replied in her head afraid to reply that response out loud since the deep voice belonged to a man she have been shamefully harbouring a crush on for some time now. Peter fucking Hale.

It’s not like she was afraid to converse with him, it’s just that she was terrified of making a fool of her self by stuttering out a few syllables before halting and staring at his piercing blue eyed that made her legs buckle submissively from the dominance they give off. She doesn’t know how he does it, makes her feel like her skin is on fire whilst her heart pounds faster than humanly normal. Without even meaning to aswell. It’s like he was a complete natural at turning her into jelly without even noticing. It riles her up to no extent.

Your eyes widen in shock and your heart beat began to rise much to your dismay, knowing that he probably knew the effects he had on you, since he had spectacular werewolf senses, made you want to crawl into a ball and wither away in embarrassment. But he never made any indication that he knew either from being completely oblivious or because he wanted to salvage that slither of pride you had left for yourself. You prayed the first. But you doubted it since Peter isn’t exactly known for being the nicest human in the planet.

You knew you were probably over exaggerating and stressing about this whole situation way to much but you just couldn’t comprehend what you would do if Peter found out the way you feel since he is abit older than you, being still only a junior in highschool yourself and him being a fully grown mature man that you wanted to pounce on all the damn time. Jesus I need to get laid, preferably by the man invading my dreams at night but desperate times cause desperate measures.

“Look after me? I’m not a child, I don’t need watching over, I have things to do like watching the last season of The Vampire Diaires even though I’m shitting scared to because Stephen dies” You ramble a butt load of word vomit wanting to shut up but your nerves were your worst enemy in situations like these.

“Hey don’t aim your anger on me I’m just volenteering to keep the weak and innocent out of harms way, that’s character development if you ask me” Peter replies smugly as his gaze burns into the your own. You muster up a harsh glare at Mr Hottie before pivoting to face Derek who was evidently waying the little options he had.

“Your not seriously considering this right? You hate him, everyone hates him” I bitterly state, relunctanly turning around to meet Mr Hotties patronising gaze. The evident smirk plastered on his handsome face tells me that he’s enjoying being the cause of this conflict. Mockingly sending a small wave as if proud of the past he has with the pack before him.

Everyone once again agrees with my statement causing Peter to let out an annoyed sigh before saying “I thought we all got over this anger that has been directed towards yours truely, It will give you wrinkles if you frown at me like that sweetheart”, he humours the situation by sending a wink in my direction. Ugh.

“It’s not like we have a lot of options right now y/n, as much as I don’t like it we need as many people focused on defeating the Darach. It will only be for a few days at the maximum. I promise. Please?” Derek had is puppy dog eyes displayed making it very hard for me to deny him, so I bit my tongue and agreed.

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Derek had dropped me off at Mr Hotties apartment with my bag laying heavy on my shoulders ready to stay for a few nights. This whole situation is bitter sweet if you ask me. Bitter because you didn’t know if these few days will hold a wave of awkwardness between the two of you and a lack of communication since the both of you have never had a proper convosation other than yesterday when he offered to keep you hostage in his apartment. And sweet because you’d have eye candy for a while. I was not complaining. It’s a win win situation.

You stroll around the apartment amused “I’m not going to lie I have always wondered if you lived in a secret lab or in an underground network of tunnels or something like that but this will do I guess ” you snickered and joked. Peter lifted an eyebrow and smirked saying “I’m not a complete animal darling”. My stomache filled with butterflies at his statement and I cleared my throat looking around the apartment once again.

Peter leaned on the doorframe and cocked his hip against it whilst his arms were crossed. Damn. He gave me a once over eyes lingering on the exposed area where my mid thigh length skirt lay. “Aren’t you a little young to be wearing that?” I frowned and looked up at his defined features past his broard strong shoulders.

“I’m nearly 18 I can wear whatever the hell I want” I scoffed. Peter held his hands up in mock surrender before strolling into the kitchen with his back facing me. I could see the defining back muscles from the outline of his green v neck and the way his bisceps flexed when reaching into one of the cupboards for two mugs. His hands. Oh holy Jesus his hands. The muscular and veiny hands gripped onto the coffee mugs send a wave of arousal downstairs. My mouth turned into an o shape as I imagined all the things those hands could do to me. All the filthy things. A girl can only take so much! As my eyes began to travel down the werewolf in front of me I started to bite my lip at the way his jeans hugged his cheeks as they clung amazingly against his thick legs that held rippling muscle. I have got to ask him what his leg day routine is.

A hand started to wave across of my face as if trying to get my attention, I averted my eyes away from the goodies to see Peter staring at me with a wide smirk along his smug face.

“Are you okay there y/n? You look a little flustered. Something on your mind?” He walked towards me untill I could feel his lips skimming the top of my ear. I gulped in suprised as my eyes widened and started stuttering out an excuse.

“Oh u-um I was just— nothing” I hung my head to look at my feet awkwardly as they began shifting from nerves.

“Hmm okay let me show you where you’ll be sleeping” he his voice rasped against my ear which sent shivers around my body.

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He knew exactly what he was doing. I mean how couldn’t he? It was like we were playing a game of cat and mouse. More like werewolf and human. I snorted out a chuckle at my pathetic joke as I lay down on the bed in the spare bedroom that Peter allowed me to use. Glancing down at my lack of clothing, an oversized t shirt that said ‘bugs life forever’ and a pair of white lace panties I let out a heavy sigh clocking my head untill it reached the my phone saying it was 2:45am. My throat was dry from overthinking earlier with Peter, how he got so close to me, pressing his body against mine. Why would he even do that? He thinks I’m an annoying teenager. A child.

Wanting to wet my parched throat I hopped towards the kitchen quietly, attempting not to wake Peter from his room and not bothering with putting on sweatpants as I didn’t suspect anyone to see me in this state. I reached my arms out to the highest cupboard in the kitchen, straining my arm at the height of it and huffed when I couldn’t reach it. A deep voice made me freeze in my position and slowly turn around.

“Did I say you could use my kitchen without my permission?” I gasped as I saw his shirtless form, rippling muscle clouded his chest with light scattered chest hair in the centre that led towards the waistband of his sweatpants. Atleast someone thought about wearing sweatpants.

Holy Jesus for I have sinned. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with it since you offered to imprison me inside the walls of your apartment” I muttered angrily starting to once again reach for the glass that I am determined to get. Little did you know that Peters eyes wandered past the hemline of the oversized sweatshirt you were wearing that was hiked up from you stretching to reach the glass, this eyes lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs and the white lace panties that hugged the underline of your firm ass. Having these sudden dirty thoughts that clouded his mind from his previous dream feels wrong since you are much younger than him. But Jesus did it feel so right to him.

The feeling of someone pressed against you from behind startles you. You move to spin around when a deep voice interrupts you. “I’ll get it for you, don’t strain yourself darling” Peters voice seemed strained as if he was trying to keep himself together as you let out a choked sigh at how close proximity you both were to eachother. As he reached up to grab you a glass and handed it to you, your response make you regret the day you were born. Started from your hands brushing you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Thankyou daddy” Both his and your eyes widen at your statement.

Oh my god. Did I really just say that out loud? Judging by his expression, I’m pretty sure I did. Shit. What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone please just kill me right now. A werewolf could come up to me right now and kill me and I would say thankyou.

This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with others

As he was about to say something but you step back abruptly and close your eyes from shear embarrassment.

A husky voice made you jump on the spot, “ say it again” His eyes glazed over in pure hunger as he watched me like I was his prey and he was the predator.

“I-I don’t know w-what your talking about” my voice sqeaked in pure humiliation

“Say it again” he repeats himself before stalking his way towards you and wrapping his hand round your throat as he squeezed lightly sending an electric feeling of pleasure towards your core. You whimpered at the contact and threw your head back at the sight of this heated haze that bore into yours and so he could reach more of your exposed throat.

“Yes, you do. Say it again. I won’t ask a third time.” He growls and you can feel yourself begin to dampen at his forceful tone.

“Thankyou daddy” You coo.

Fuck.” He curses before lunging forward and taking your lips with his. You immediately open your mouth to his probing tongue and moan when it brushes over yours. Peter pulls away from your wet lips and traces his tongue down your throat as his lips begin to suck along the side of your neck surely leaving marks as he does it making you whine and shudder in pleasure. His impossibly enormous hands glide their way to my chest before capturing my breasts through my sweatshirt starting to kneed and pinch my nipples as he held intense eye contact with me.

“These-” he stopped to grasp them harshly before tearing the fabric of my sweatshirt off making direct contact with them this time with his warm and inviting hands that made me choke a whimper as I was being dominated by the man that I have pined over for as long as I have known him. “Are mine” he finished with a growl flashing his blue luminous eyes. His lips began to assault the hardened nipples, swirling his warm tongue round the bud then biting them teasingly.

“Say it, say that you are mine little girl” he demanded as his hand reached down to cup my pussy through my white lace panties.

“Oh god- oh god yes! I’m yours” I managed to stutter as I became a moaning mess as his magic fingers circled around my clothed clit before he moved them aside and plunged two fingers inside my tight walls.

Barely forming a grammatically correct sentence from the immense feeling of pleasure that I was going through, I reached down bravely to palm his prominent bulge that twitched under my palm.

He growled as his hands ran down your back, grabbing your ass between his hands touching outline of your pussy through your thin lace panties. He pushes you back into the kitchen until you feel your back hit the kitchen table. Peter pulls back away from your lips and flips you around, bending you over the table.

Shocked from the turn of events you let out a yelp, “What are you doing?” you moan and cry out as his hands pull down your panties, kicking your legs open with his feet.

“Giving you what you want baby” He husks as his hands pull down your shorts, kicking your legs open with his feet. You hear him unbuckle his belt before shoving his hand between your legs. “Your soaked” he groans before shoving his cock deep inside your pink and wet pussy.

“ Did you not think I’d notice how you feel about me baby? Your arousal always in the air for me to smell all the damn time I’m around you baby girl, you don’t even realise how hard it was to resist the urge to fuck you everytime I saw you” You purr in content at his sinful string of words.

“Peter please” you beg. He slaps your ass hard causing you to let out a loud moan. “That’s not my name” he glares. Realising what you meant it took you no time before pleasing him again.

“Daddy! O-oh fuck yes!”

“That’s a good girl, I’m going to fucking ruin you” he growls in your ear making you whimper. His dirty words only spurring how turned on you are.

“Please don’t stop what your doing” your desperate gasps are all that he needed to fuck you untill your screaming his name.

He begins to ram his cock in and out of your pussy as you let out a stream of loud and sinful moans, pounding you into the table, making the table legs squeak against the hard floor. He reached round to grip your hair as the other slings around your throat holding you in place as he begins to whisper dirty words into your ear that makes you eager to feel your pussy pulsate around his hard and thick length.

“Who knew you were such a naughty girl y/n? Desperate to feel my cock inside you, I bet you like it when I fuck you don’t you? Huh? Rough and hard?” You managed to humm before it turned into a stuttered moan as you felt yourself beginning to quiver and your legs to shake he continued to pound you with his cock.

Suddenly the feeling of a knot forming below your stomache makes you stutter out a moan “ holy shit, yes, yes!” You scream as you come undone around him as he continues to pound you through your orgasm. A stream of grunts follow after yours as he came inside you, milking your walls with his hot cum.

“Wow, that was unexpected” you grunt as you try and catch your breath, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You started it, calling me daddy and all” he teased whilst he send you a smirk.

“Well I’ll call you daddy as much as you want next time” you reach out to pull at his short hair leaning to give him a subtle kiss on his lips that lingered.

“Darling, next time I plan to fuck that warm little mouth with my cock” he growls.

That can definitely be arranged

[honestsycrets]

Irreplaceable PIX: Spoken Words

See my masterlist for the rest of the series.

A/N: When your wives are acting crazy. XD Gif belongs to kimskew. This is the last thing I’m posting tonight, I’m sorry for all the tags. It was requested early.

For all of Ivar worried that you may have injured your womb, the rest of your pregnancy progressed as easily as your first. Perhaps in a way, he was more aggressive about your care after this scare. You expected him to be. But if he was aggressive… it also meant that Kitta was more aggressive as well. Especially when the Queen was rejected from helping you through your labour.

“You don’t want Kitta here?” Ivar’s hand is at your back, rubbing you through another set of contractions. The pain that sears your legs apart was nothing like the anger that built up in your heart over the last few months sharing your life with Kitta. First, she humiliated you. Second, she spilled the secret of your first love. Now you were not even sure if Ivar knew who it was.

“Why would I want her here? She has made a fool of me!” You push down on a contraction.

“She was here last time.” Ivar says. Your heart is closed, knowing Kitta is with Uxi while Ragnhild stays with you. In a way, perhaps you were punishing her. She must have known so as well. That was why she insisted that Ivar could not let you do this. Sorrily for her, he was too weak to do anything with the wrath of Frigg threatening to overcome him.

“The gods know and see how she has changed.” You hiss, back curling upwards. The contractions came closer and closer-- and you knew this is the stage of true labour in which there are no true breaks. All you want is to be able to labour in peace on all fours without Ivar insisting on Kitta being there in the room. Ragnhild is between your legs with an older thrall, learning the fine art of being a midwife. Dropping the issue, Ivar grimaces and sits helpless to change anything. It was better to stay quiet than incite your rage when you were in labour. Any man knew that.

At the end of it all, you gave birth to his second son, a healthy baby boy. He was a hungry thing, bonding to your breast quicker than Uxi had. By no time at all, you were in bed with your husband. Two years was a long time to be without a baby in the home. Or so Ivar thinks when he finally has his son on his tattooed chest, tiny hands on his body. He's never felt broader. The Great Hall is quiet again and with it, the peace of the moment. He looks over to you, clean from your warm bath that scrubbed away the pain of labour.

"He does not look deformed." He lets his hand come to his son's back. By the gods-- the little boy looks like Uxi had during birth. "He's healthy."

"Maybe I am descended from the bride of the Vanir." You snuggle your way closer to him, taking the one hand that is not on your shared child. Ivar affectionately runs his fingers over your knuckles like he so enjoys to do with Kitta.

"Maybe." He agrees.

Little Veifnr is a slight and handsome boy. By now Ivar had learned to shift days, giving you four while Kitta had only three with her husband. Though if you didn’t sleep because of Veifnr, he quickly went back on his word to her to bond with her son. Kitta didn’t understand. Wasn’t that Ragnhild’s use?

Of course things couldn’t stay so perfect for you. From the steps of the throne you watch the Yule log crinkle and pop while Uxi jumps beside it like an eager dog, listening to the oaths of men. Veifnr long since fell fast asleep in a bassinet beside you as you enjoyed the vigil to your ancestral goddess on Mothernight.

“You’re enjoying yourself, my wife?” You glance over to your husband as he leans over his armchair towards you. It has been bizarrely quiet. Kitta, who does not sit in her throne, almost a pleasure that night. You sit on furs slung across the steps by his chair, drinking of the horn he hands to you when you hair his following request.

“Good. Then as the gods have given us another son, I want to take Kitta to see the lights of colours that I’ve heard such things about.” Ivar proposes.

Of course you know what he means. He means the sky that lit up in brilliant greens, heavenly blues and nearly fragrant purples, painting the sky like wisps of the gods chariots. It was rumoured, or so you thought, that Freyja would ride her kittens in the lush green stripes. That was the streak your father always told you about and the one that you eagerly you wanted to see. To see if your mother Freyja really did ride the heavens. But it is Kitta’s moment to be spoiled.

“Ah… then you would like me to care for things?” You suggest.

Ivar brings his horn back from your fingers and presses it up to his cracked lips. “Yes, Princess. I’m sure you’ve done it for Faksi.”

“Of course.” You nod— of course you had. You had done it more than once as he raided frequently. The public of Kattegat seemed to enjoy you enough with the births of Ivar’s sons. It would be fine. You would just be at home like you always were.

“Hvitserk will stay behind to care for a portion of the army.” Ivar leans down, taking your chin in his palm. “So I better not hear that you’ve betrayed me when I come back.” He gives you a clear warning, but to you, it is a message. Ivar doesn’t trust you.

You pull your head free from his palm. “I’m not a loose whore to be sleeping with your brother.”

Kitta comes from the crowd, pushing past the clusters of drab woolen clothes until she finds you both speaking. Ivar drops the conversation quickly-- seeing his jewel coming forward. He reaches for the hand she extends for a kiss, falling into Ivar’s flirtatious tug closer. She drops into her chair almost as if she’s cocky of what she is doing. Your eyes fall away to Veifnr’s bassinet, acting as if you are rocking it.

“Are we going?” She’s almost gleaming in excitement-- and in response, Ivar seems to glow. His skin, cleansed before dinner, brightens.

“I told you I would take you.” For his efforts she gives him a kiss, sliding onto his lap with her slender toes in black laced flats nudging you just slightly to move a step or two lower. You slide closer to Veifnr instead; nudging his little cheeks with your fingers. He’s fast asleep.

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” She says. “I haven’t had him alone in years. It will be perfect for so many years!”

Maybe her words are genuine— but as a woman that never had her husband to herself, you snort. Your teeth knit into their grooves, disrupting an otherwise peaceful moment when you swipe back at Kitta.

”I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a man to myself.” You say.

Kitta’s joyful moment is cut short with her hand in his hair and lips against his. Her momentary smile against his lips quickly turns dark. She pulls away long enough to stare at you– because you’ve just disrupted something beautiful.

But you don’t honestly give a fuck. They would go and have fun, bathe naked together in the rumoured hot springs or lay under the glittering stars at night while you stay nothing more than a mother with Ragnhild. Ivar turns his gaze to you slowly, fiddling with the strings of Kitta’s dress. Here it went again.

“What, are you jealous that you can’t whine your way out of this one?” Kitta snips back, beginning to rise. Ivar pulls her back onto him by her slender hips. Kitta huffs as Ivar combs his hand through her flaxen hair and worships her lips in kisses to keep her tranquil.

“Not at all.” You say and look between to the king and his queen. “I know he feels bad that you are soo alone. So go.”

Dully you raise your hand as if to metaphorically shake her off. Yes, she watches Uxi. In the day she could pretend like the little boy was hers. She would be dragged to see this, that and the other by him. She would feed him foods familiar to her and sing him songs. But at the end of the day? He came to you to sleep because he was your son.

“I think it is that the second wife is jealous of how he spoils me. You get shiny gifts to be shown off as his trophy wife– but I get him to my own to see wonderful things that you will never.” Kitta nudges the silken ties of your back with her foot. Ivar throws his head back, rolling on the axis of his neck until he looks down at you.

“I will take you next time, wherever my princess wants.” Ivar speaks as if you should ignore anything his bitter queen was saying. Before you could really even smile at him, Kitta stands off his lap and ambles around you. She bends in front of you and reaches out to cup your chin.

“Oh, he will… after he takes his Queen. Because his second wife will always be second best.” Those words are the last words you could take and strictly on instinct, you slam your head forward into hers, tumbling her down the steps of the throne room. The room drops its liveliness. The loud cackles die down into nothing more than strangled gasps to the tune of the crackling yule log. Shooting out from the silence though, a dull crack. It was your fist meeting the side of Kitta’s face, yanking your skirts up to straddle her in place. Her legs thrash underneath you and yet-- even the call of ma! ma! Does not shake you.

“(Y/N).” Someone calls out.

You hear your husband falling off of his throne, dragging himself down the steps until he climbs over you like a tree, yanking you back. You knew he was going to so you wound your palms tight around Kitta’s sputtering airways. A hiss tears through your lips as Ivar pulls you by the waist and chest.

“She’s choking her.” Hvitserk comes to Kitta’s side, unpeeling your fingers to the best of his ability. To no avail, Hvitserk uses the assistance of a sharp knife that would slice you just enough to shake you. The shock is enough for Ivar to yank you to the side off of his first wife. As Kitta flings herself into the opposite direction, Uxi breaks from the hold on one of the thralls that watches him to doddle up to his other mother.

“You’re insane!” She coughs and coughs. But you didn’t give a shit anymore, pushing off Ivar’s firm arms.

“What the hell was that?” He ask. You stand, staggering until you gain your balance. Then as you look at Kitta, your eyes narrow. Your breath is uneasy and sharp, rubbing away the blood from one sole punch that hit your lip in the flail.

“May Frigg smite you Kitta… for, for how you treat the woman you claimed to bring in with good heart. I pray that Loki will bring you ill repute and Skadi will give me my revenge, you… you snake!” You spit, the words becoming more venomous than the last. You feel your husband’s eyes wandering up to you in what might have been wonder or horror. Whichever one it was, you aren’t sure, but, you know that the hate you feel right raging in your stomach.

You look up to Ivar and scan him, your tongue against your raw lip. “Look at the woman you’ve made me.” You exhale, shifting around the bassinet as Kitta turns herself to Ivar.

“You aren’t going to let her do that to me!” She yells at Ivar. “Pick one of us! It’s her or I!”

You glance to Ivar as if to ask someone to help– but in his place, Hvitserk jogs forth to help you lift the bassinet. You both lift it high while Ivar turns his eyes away from you, thinking slowly of the words you spoke moments ago.

“(Y/N).” He answers, looking back to Kitta.

“You’re choosing HER!?” His Kitta bellows. Ivar twists on his forearms to drag himself out of the Great Hall.

“If you make me choose!”

“It is funny.” Hvitserk laughs, arm slung over your shoulder as you waved in bed. “She thought she would put you in your place and you put her in hers!”

You quickly escaped the Great Hall hours ago. Ivar and Kitta's screaming back and forth eventually died off. Now Hvitserk finds it all too funny that you had not only cracked Kitta’s head with yours but cursed her with something so dark and heavy. Not that he thought the gods would really do anything about Kitta! While usually you might be straight laced and tense– the booze down your throat for the last few hours left you giggly. Your head rests on his shoulder.

“Only a little.” You slur.

“Only a little, she says.” Hvitserk laughs.

The days that had pass are like this. While Ivar took Kitta out to see those beautiful lights, Hvitserk fills you with booze and you look would both look at the heavens. It’s a good distraction when Hvitserk sleeps in your bed and wakes up to little Uxi climbing over his body. For all that the young boy has seen, he is resilient. It shames you, in some way, to know that Uxi saw you beating his other mother. At this age, you hope he won't remember. Another one of those drunken nights passed when you wake to shouts throughout the Great Hall. There was a great deal of stomping and yelling by Ivar's warriors. You recognize the favourite of his men responding to Ivar's calls. He must have been home from Kitta's wonderful trip. Hvitserk rolls to sit up in the bed, shirt out of sight.

“What are they doing?” Hvitserk pushes his loose hair from his eyes. You consider what might be going on when you heard his booming voice rippling in through the other room– waking both babies at once. You stumble through the darkness looking for a shawl to pull over your naked shoulders, knocking your foot against carved wood.

“(Y/N)!” The King calls again.

You take Veifnr to Ragnhild as Hvitserk lifts Uxi up onto his slender hips. Then as you step out of your chambers, you realize something. It was Kitta’s cool body over a stretcher, contorting painfully as she stares– but does not speak. It is a better look for her.

“What is it?” You come close. Ivar’s hands sweeps over Kitta’s pale cheek.

“You cursed her.” He says. And as you remember it– you did.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou , @kylobien , @titty-teetee , @breathlessouls , @nejijjeoroo , @bcat1291 , @readsalot73 , @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @ateliefloresdaprimavera , @ailucascen , @michaeliskindahot , @ilovemyangelforever, @directionlessbuthappy , @hizz-hizz-mothertruckerz , @some-blondes-unicorn ,@atequila, @rekdreams247 , @ivarswonderlust , @writingeverynowand-then , @hp-hogwartsexpress , @minarawr , @haliannej, @strangunddurm , @cbouvier23 , @peachesnpisces , @elenawrit , @Equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck , @ilvebeenabad , @vikingsmania , @the-geeky-engineer , @huntingbears , @my-little-wolfe , @mitchiri-nek0 , @seize-the-droid , @Certifiedpoison, @hotshotstar , @a-writers-dreams , @quaint-and-curious-being, @ivarthotbrok ,  @mitchiri-nek0 , @dakotacheyenneee-blog, @salimahbicharara-comun, @capstefanbrandt, @kickbacksnextdoor , @alicedopey , @imagine-this-motherfucker, @zoetrope1997 , @kingniazx , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @amandaseibaek , @queenmissfit  , @calaena-banrion , @memememememe1-blog , @lost-and-wandering-alone , @rubyquartzshades   , @naaladareia, @lisinfleur , @abwrites, @zueserra, @mintandfigs,

[marauders70s]

Hey anon! Thank you so much for the compliment. I’m a big fan of followers like you. Not to sound like a rebel or anything, but consider a VPN (hides your IP) and a proxy (hides your location and history) for more privacy. Great VPNs are available here, here, and here for free. Good free proxies are here, here, and here. Also, I love wolfstar and marauders <3 thank you again. Lots of love. 

Join the Fic Celebration!     |    G U I D E L I N E S

YEAR 7, MAUNDY THURSDAY APRIL 12, 1979

“Shut up,” said Sirius lazily, carding his fingers through his long bangs to push them back from his face.

James only laughed and toed off one of his perpetually muddy trainers. It fell the few inches between his long leg and Sirius’ head and hit his gelled hair squarely.

"Oi!” Sirius barked, glaring up at James. James was floating three feet above the train bench, biting into his fourth fizzing whizbee, the sherbet ball dripping a bit down his chin as he broke the tart exterior.

“James,” sighed Remus, scooting further from Sirius so as not to be dripped on by lime sherbet on his open book. “We’ve told you not to eat whizbees on the train.”

“Or in bed,” added Peter helpfully. “You always get tangled in the curtains.”

“Or the rafters,” agreed Remus, turning a page of his book thoughtfully and scowling when James’ socked and rather smelly foot smacked him in the ear.

“Can’t help it,” said James grandly.

“You very well can,” Sirius said irritably, rubbing his head where he had been kicked. “You might have caved my skull in.”

“Would not,” said James breezily. “You’re too thick headed for that.”

“I’m thick headed?” Sirius asked incredulously. “You’ve got prongs sprouting out your swollen head.”

“You’re just lucky Lily’s not here, or she might deflate you,” Peter added, grinning up at James, who had now risen so high he was half flattened against the compartment ceiling and looking stubbornly like he wasn’t bothered by the fact.

“She would not,” James said flatly. “She’d come up and join me.”

"Put your shoes back on. I’m suffocating,” Sirius complained.

“You put them on.”

Sirius glanced at Remus, and they both grinned conspiratorially. They took out their wands.

“With your hands! Your hands!” James yelped as they both said:

"Waddiwasi!”

Both James’ fallen trainers ricocheted from the compartment floor to brain James hard: one in the ribs, making him yelp, and one between the legs, which made his face go so white he dropped suddenly out of the air, the spell knocked out of him. He landed face first on Peter, who made a funny crumpled sound.

"Sirius,” gasped James, his face very red.

The other three laughed and Peter pushed James upright to lean against the window, his hands balled in his lap.

“It was a low blow,” Sirius agreed, grinning.

“I’m dead,” James said dramatically, his voice slowly losing some of the tight pain. “You’ve killed me.”

“Only your ability to bear children,” Sirius retorted cheerfully.

“Yeah and we’re still confused why Lily would sleep with you,” added Peter.

James thumped him with a backhand slap across the chest, and Peter yelped like a wounded dog.

“Hey!”

“Yeah, it’s only true,” Sirius grinned.

James tried to kick him, but Sirius grabbed his socked foot and Remus leaned forward with his wand, running it along the soles as James twitched.

“Betrayal!” James bellowed. “Betrayed by my brother!” he gasped dramatically, managing to wrench his foot out of Sirius’ grasp and kick him accidentally across the jaw.

“OUCH,” yelled Sirius back, despite being very flushed and pleased with being called James’ brother. He had declined the formal adoption proceedings Aunt Mia had started, especially after James’ father had died at the end of last year. It had been too painful for her to try to adopt Sirius without her husband, and so he was only a son in heart, but not in name.

“And you,” yelled James, oblivious of Sirius’ thoughts. As always, James had a problem with volume control. He had taken Remus’ betrayal more seriously, as Remus wasn’t the constant wrestling partner, companion, and prankster Sirius was. “You’ve finished me off. The only loyal one here is Peter!” He flung his arm around Peter’s shoulder and leaned onto his shorter friend.

Peter flushed red at James’ unexpected praise and then grunted as James let his whole body go slack. Peter unceremoniously dumped him to the floor where James lay like a deboned fish.

"James,” sighed Remus. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve killed me,” James said, his eyes squeezed shut behind his glasses. He didn’t look remotely dead. His face was scrunched in concentration to lay still. James had a great deal of trouble staying still.

“Is this your funeral?” Sirius asked sarcastically. “As we stand over your grave?”

James’ eyes popped open as he stared up at the tangle of legs over the bench seats of the train compartment. He grinned delightedly. “Yes. Absolutely. Someone give a eulogy. Peter, as my only true friend, you’re first. Make it good. Make us all cry.”

“Er…” said Peter, glancing in bewilderment at Remus and Sirius.

"Wow,” said James, not waiting five seconds for him to begin speaking. “Not even a word? Not even a tear? Cold, Pete.”

“Give me a chance!” stammered Peter.

“Yes, well we better prepare James for burial,” said Remus with a straight face, shrugging out of his robes and draping them like a parachute over James so he was hidden in a shroud.

“Hey!” James’ voice was muffled and indignant from under the robes.

“Time to throw dirt,” said Sirius, also enjoying the baiting. He scattered crumbs from a half finished Cauldron Cake.

“Hey!”

“Lily will be crushed,” said Remus somberly.

“She’ll live,” said Peter.

“HEY!” yelped James, wrestling the hot fabric down over his face. It took his glasses with it and he squinted, blind, at the blurry figures above him. He could tell them by their coloring: Sirius with his black hair, Remus with his light brown, and Peter with his mousy curls.

“Should we give him flowers?” said Remus angelically, waving his wand over James’ head as he struggled to sit up. With a twitch, James was wearing a white lily crown.

Sirius kept him down with a firm foot, his lips twitching up in a half grin which climbed higher over his face as James tried to pinch his ankle and couldn’t find skin beneath his tall ankle high combat boots. "Don’t you think lilies are too on the nose?” asked Sirius lightly, letting James spring to a sitting position, fumbling for his glasses.

“Definitely,” agreed Peter.

“I’ll give him snapdragons,” said Remus, flicking his wand so the flowers shrank. They were still a pure snow white.

“Make them purple,” suggested Sirius. “They’ll really bring out his eyes.”

“Oh, but the white shows up so well in his hair,” sighed Remus.

James, who had reached up to yank off the wreath threw the whole thing at Sirius instead. Sirius’ mouth was open and he sputtered while James frowned:

“No, I don’t want purple snapdragons for my funeral, Sirius.”

Remus relented, offering James a hand up.

James took it, levering himself in the small space between the seats, and flopped down next to Remus, booting Sirius to the other side to sit by Peter instead, handing Remus his robes back.

Remus folded him with a wand flick and they filtered down to his bookbag to fold themselves inside neatly.

“What do you want?” Sirius asked in the silence, and it became very brittle, and very strained. The four looked at each other, suddenly wide-eyed and scared. There was a war on, after all. And three of them, at least, had joined up. They were of age.

James looked down, his brown eyes bright and hard, and the three knew without looking at one another he was remembering his own father’s funeral.

“Family plot,” he said at last, and quietly, into the suddenly changed and deepened atmosphere. “Next to my parents.”

His mother would be buried with his father. It made him sad to see her grave, already prepared, already engraved, the small hyphen waiting for the wand work to set the numbers in stone.

“White lilies?”

“No,” said James quickly. “Not unless…” and he hesitated, shaking his head too quickly, and they understood that he would only want them if she was dead too. If she was there.

They were eighteen years old.

“No purple snapdragons then,” Sirius said, his voice strangely hoarse the way it always got when he felt too much, no longer suave or cool or in control. “Got it.”

“I don’t care,” laughed James, and his laugh was like Sirius’ voice. Too trembling to be real. “I’ll be dead, won’t I?”

They all stared at each other in silence. Each of their faces was very pale. Across from each other, Remus and Sirius touched their knees together. Sirius swallowed. Remus cleared his throat.

“Anyway, pass me my shoes, wouldn’t you Peter? We’ll be there soon.”

Sirius lived in the basement of Godric’s Hollow, in what was once the guest suite. It had a bathroom and even a small sitting area with his bed against the back wall. His aunt and uncle had even brought in an occultineer to put in two windows, despite being underground, shifting light and views so he wouldn’t feel boxed in.

His bed was between the two windows, and he stared up at the stars, ignoring the way his skin felt against the cool sheets. Ignoring the way he was afraid to close his eyes. At the thought, he squeezed them shut defiantly. They popped open when there was a loud pop at the foot of his bed.

“Hey,” whispered a voice. “You awake?”

Sirius lifted a hand, relieved, grateful, in love. He flipped back the covers in welcome, and he smelled him before he could see him properly, the way Remus smelled of honey and tea and his skin of something hot and wild, like burning leaves in autumn.

“You came,” he murmured into his hair.

They were still keeping the relationship quiet. Not from James, or Lily, or Peter, of course. That would have been impossible. But Sirius did think it might be too hard for Aunt Mia to take, to come down and find them…

Well, if they kept their clothes on, they might pass it off as an innocent sleepover. The thing was, raising a son like James, it was very hard to pull the Serbian Sleeping wool over Mrs. Potter’s eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” whispered Remus, turning on his side.

Sirius slept on his stomach, and his arms were up under his pillow. One of his hands was gripping his wand. But he turned his face to Remus.

“Me neither.”

“Is it because of the train?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

There was a silence.

“So…if I had to…plan…the funeral,” Remus said this in a series of stops, of jerky movements, like the words were being forced out of him with an imperius curse, but he couldn’t stop.

“My funeral?”

Remus swallowed, buried his face back into his pillow. It was his, even if he didn’t always sleep there.

“What would you want?” Sirius deflected.

“Books,” Remus responded promptly. It was obvious he had been thinking on it. “Readings from all your favorite passages. All of you.” And Sirius knew he meant James and Lily, and Peter. Maybe even Frank and Alice.

“Flowers?”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about a lot. Just about…about what will be said.”

And Sirius found his fingers beneath the covers. Knew Remus was thinking of his name on the public record. The registry he had been forced to sign on his seventeenth birthday. The one that kept him from applying for healing courses. The one that would make getting a job impossible. The one that made becoming a spy just…easier. Living off the grid easier.

He and Sirius had decided they would share an apartment. It meant nothing to Remus’ parents; they thought they were just roommates, just friends. And while it should have been a big step for them, having grown up living together it would be stranger not to be together than to share a room.

The silence was ruffled by their breaths. By Sirius avoiding the question he knew Remus was etching into him with his toes curling into his calf. A silent contest of wills until finally:

“What would you want?” and it hurt to hear Remus ask it aloud. Where Sirius would have to deny him outright.

“I dunno,” he shrugged, turning his face back in his pillow.

“Do you know if you want to be buried?”

“No,” said Sirius, too quickly. He had never liked small spaces.

“I don’t think I would either,” said Remus quietly. “Maybe if it was just…open. Under a tree.”

"A tree?”

“Like the passage to the Whomping Willow. It would remind me of that.”

"You want me to plant a new Whomping Willow over your dumb bones?” And Sirius fingered his lover’s ribs until Remus shrieked with laughter, clapping his hand over his mouth and glaring reproachfully at Sirius as he shrimped.

“Shut up,” he whispered, and Sirius relented, and they relaxed together in pieces, both watching each other, waiting to see if the other would make a move, towards tickling or romance or...

“Of course not,” Remus continued, as if there had been no interruption. He didn’t have his wand with his pajamas. It felt strange to be without it. But he let Sirius trace the inside of his wrist, where the guard to hold it usually went. “But maybe…my wand wood. Cypress. If I could have a magical trunk. One they might collect for the future.”

“Sure and just add a unicorn to it, right?” mocked Sirius. “We’ll just tie one to it. Make it easy for Ollivander.”

Remus knew he was mocking because he was uncomfortable with the topic, but he still swatted him, burying his face into the pillows in anger and embarrassment.

“Hey,” and Sirius also looked angry and uncomfortable. “Hey. Look. I’m sorry. I just-“

“I know.”

“I don’t have a place.”

"What?” Remus was confused.

“The entire Black family is buried in the same mausoleum. We have plates on the wall. From our birth.”

Remus clenched next to him. He understood what Sirius meant.

“You could…have a place…with me,” he said it slowly. Not unwillingly. Just unwilling to sound cheesy.

Sirius blew a raspberry into his shoulder and Remus laughed in spite of himself.

“You’re the corniest,” he told Remus, but Remus could hear the happiness threading his voice.

“I know. I’m cornbread.”

“Corn on the cob.”

“Corn hash.”

“Stop; you’re making me hungry.”

“Sorry.”

“There is one kind of corn we haven’t named.”

"Yeah?”

“What you are. The kind of corn.”

“Oh thanks. I’m a kind of corn.”

“Of course,” and Sirius flipped on his side now too, freeing up both his hands.

“What kind, then?” asked Remus in amusement.

Sirius reached forward, tickling hard as Remus jumped a foot in the air, shrieking.

"Popcorn,” he said smugly, and Remus had to apparate out mid-shriek when they heard James on the stairs.

“Would you two keep it down?” he grouched to Sirius, who was alone in a rumpled, stripped bed. The covers were on the floor, and he realized how it looked.

“Sorry,” he said, not sorry at all.

“Move over,” grumbled James, padding over to the bed. He glanced down at it, then at Sirius. “Is it clean?”

“Nothing happened,” Sirius assured him, a cheeky half grin creeping up his face.

“Not even hand stuff?”

“You could go back upstairs.”

“No. I’m boiling. Let me in.”

Sirius scooted obligingly over. The basement was the coolest part of the house, and April had been muggy.

“What we you laughing at then?” asked James comfortably, but Sirius knew him well and long enough to hear the thread of loneliness in his voice. He knew James had been in his room, thinking of his father.

Sirius lied for him then.

“Oh you know. Vegetables.”

James looked sideways at him in horror and then leapt out of the bed. “Sirius! GROSS!”

And Sirius thought his face would break from laughing.

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