#oh to have a beautiful women kiss my hand and swear her sword to me

[sapphic-woes]

Where are all the women who would wanna be knights in a medieval setting. I am so very ready to kiss u.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt.4

Summary: In his attempt to get to know his wife, the Darkling realizes he might be getting too close.

Warnings: angst, swearing, sexual innuendoes, slightest bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three   

=================================

Y/N couldn’t sleep that night. Not only did she agonize over the slightest possibility of his words being true, but the lingering of his lips on hers even hours after they’ve left tormented her mind. Instead of sleeping, she sat outside in the darkness with nothing but stars to keep her company. She shuddered with the cold wind as it chilled her, even the kefta didn’t protect her as well as she thought it would.

Sighing, she smiled up at the night sky, watching the stars in their celestial dance. It’s undeniable, she’s envious of them – their freedom is undisputed, their beauty unmatched by anything earthly. No one can force a star to marriage, no one can dull its brightness.

“Are you alright?” Genya spoke up, startling Y/N into a loud gasp.

Turning around, Y/N giggles in slight panic, a hand resting on her chest. “You scared me!”

“I didn’t mean to”, she chuckles too, coming closer to Y/N who let out a relieved sigh, only to look up once again.

“I couldn’t sleep”, she explains, “So I came here to watch the stars.”

“Most people are afraid of the dark”, Genya raised an eyebrow as she fixed her gaze on Y/N instead. She studied her carefully, unsure if she should invest all her hopes and dreams in her – no matter how striking she is.

“Oh, I’m scared of the dark!” Y/N exclaims, pointing up at the sky, “But the night sky is littered with lanterns, meant to guide you home. My mom always told me to look up whenever I feel lost, because the stars will help me find answers to any worry.”

Pursing her lips, Genya frowned, “Does that mean you doubt your plan?”

“No”, Y/N replied with haste, “I am simply trying to understand some of the chess pieces I thought I had figured out.”

Looking back at the Palace, Y/N’s eyes found the window of her room in an instant. A dark figure passed by it, the candlelight revealing the figure is pacing.

“He’s not a bad man, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Holding her breath, Y/N’s eyes find amber ones, “That’s not what I’ve heard. His deeds have spoken plenty about the strength of his character.”

“He’s fighting a war, not just with the outsiders, not just your father, but those on our side as well.” Pausing, Genya steps before her, “Do you know what they call him?”

“The Darkling”, she states, “A starless saint, a demon, a shadow king.”

“So many of those names are meant to demonize him, to shun him from society simply for the power he was born with”, licking her lips, Genya reaches for Y/N’s hand. “His own people are dying simply for who they’re born as – humans, Shu, Druskelle, they’re all sharpening their swords. If he’s not feared, we’re all dead.”

Nibbling on her lower lip, Y/N closed her eyes. Exhaling, she faced Genya once more.

“Does that mean I should applaud him for the way he’s treated the First army so far? How can you defend him when he’s the one who brought you here…to the emperor?”

Retracting her hand, Genya flashed a smile – one too strained to be believable. “He tried to defend me and got himself punished for it. So I’m here and I’m telling you to give him a chance.” Walking past Y/N, Genya stops just a few paces behind her, “He might surprise you.”

All the things Genya said became faint echoes inside Y/N’s head. When she returned to the room, she was ready for a new quarrel with Kirigan. Despite her readiness, he was sound asleep as she slipped her kefta off. With trembling fingers, she lifted the comforter only to stifle a laugh upon a surprising sight. Not only had there been a pillow to separate them, but three to ensure she wouldn’t accidentally roll on his side during the night. Perhaps she did smother him the night before and for once, she didn’t feel ashamed, rather satisfied. If he’s so insistent on sharing a bed, why would she make it any easier on him?

Tossing the pillows aside, she slid onto his side. Pressing her lips in a thin line, she tried to wrap an arm around his middle, but she couldn’t do it with her heart clenching wildly inside her chest. She drew back, forming tight fists at her side as she glared up at the canopy in frustration. If she’s going to play well and win, she’ll have to swallow her pride and withstand some discomfort.

Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N held her breath as she half climbed atop of Kirigan. Waiting to see if he’ll wake, Y/N finally released a shuddered breath. Burying her nose in the crook of his neck, she finally felt herself warm up after being outside for so long.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent – woodsy and clean as if he had just had a bath. She never realized it before, but he smelled the same way on their wedding day…and night. But also earlier when he was pressed against her, devouring her mouth. Just the thought of his arms around her, his tall frame against her and the feverish kiss they’ve shared had caused her heartbeat to quicken with no shame.

And while she drifted off, she failed to realize something else – the Darkling was very much awake.

Instead of moving away when he felt a weight atop of him, he struggled to even his breathing. She smelled like spring, like lilacs and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Most times, he’d crinkle his nose in disgust for strong, flowery scents made him nauseous, but she didn’t have the heavy, unbearably thick air of perfume cling to her – it felt like it’s her natural scent.

Smiling, the Darkling allowed himself to relax once her breathing calmed down and while her hands and feet felt like icicles, her cold nose brought most of the discomfort. Once she warmed up, by stealing his body heat, the Darkling began to drift away too. After all, he was winning.

A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Y/N’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away, but something blocked her way. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was and how she fell asleep last night, she felt her face grow hot as blood rushed to her cheeks. Even her body seemed to blush. She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at where her husband’s supposed to be, yet he was gone – only the pillows she could have sworn she removed remained.

There was no way of knowing it, but each morning, the Darkling opened his eyes and looked at her first. No matter if she was drooling or her hair matted on her face, he quite enjoyed his view. She seemed gentle, almost like a saint sent to remind him light can exist along with darkness he’s been shrouded in.

Disgruntled, she sat up and huffed. She wanted to wake up at the same time as he did. One, she wanted to see his reaction and laugh, two, she really wanted to discuss the kiss from before. Then again, she just wanted to see the general at his most vulnerable state – waking up disheveled, just like any human would. His perfectly styled hair unnerved her and she couldn’t help but wonder if Genya used her power on it because she had never once seen a hair out of place, not even after their kiss.

For the rest of the day, Y/N tried to catch him alone. Unfortunately, she barely saw her husband at all. A fleeting glance of acknowledgement was all she received as they passed each other in the hall, both surrounded by others.

At night, she laid awake in hopes of speaking to him before bed. The faint candlelight on the bedside table kept the darkness away, relieving her fear. Would he laugh at her if she admitted to it? After all, isn’t he the one who can create darkness out of thin air? Perhaps he’d shroud her with it and prove he truly is cruel, but she had no way of being sure. He must never know of it and she truly hoped never to see his display of power.

Lost in her thoughts, she blinked and it was morning.

Wide eyed, she sat up and looked to his side. It was unmade, the pillow dented right where his head was and yet she can’t remember hearing him arrive in the night or leave in the morning. She never does.

“Fuck”, she mutters under her breath as she slams a fist in his pillow. Grunting, she buries her face into it, muffling her frustrated scream.

“Are you done?” Genya frowned at her, waiting by the door while Y/N screamed at the top of her lungs into a pillow.

“YOU’VE GOT TO STOP SNEAKING UP ON ME!”

Scoffing, Genya rolled her eyes. “You need to be more perceptive about your surroundings.”

A knock on the door had startled them both, enough for them to both let out a strangled scream. The door opened before either of them gave the permission and once they realized who it was that entered, they didn’t need a reason as to why.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The Darkling grinned at his wife who narrowed her eyes at him immediately.

“Your voice gives me a headache”, Y/N complains.

Squinting at her, the Darkling wondered if a woman could be so infuriating without wielding some mystic power to make her so.

“I believe you agreed to ride with me.”

“Oh”, Genya smirks, “She’ll ride you –“, covering her mouth, Genya giggles as she sees Y/N’s glare is on her, “I meant, with you.”

“I’ve prepared the horses”, he waited for her to respond, to give him reason to dislike her yet she didn’t.

“I will keep my word”, Y/N stood with her formidable gaze on his. She dared not look at his lips for they brought memories and self-loathing she’d rather avoid. After all, what kind of a woman quivers for her enemies touch?

“Wonderful”, he smirks, “I’ll wait for you to dress.”

Remaining in his spot, his hands at his sides, Kirigan raised his eyebrows as both women stared at him.

“Get out”, Y/N waves him off and he clicks his tongue.

“You may not let me touch you, but I can look.”

Angry, she narrowed her eyes at him, “That didn’t stop you from pinning me to a door.”

Genya’s eyes widen, pressing her lips to stop herself from commenting on their little exchange.

Shrugging, he stepped closer. His eyes raked over her body, the nightgown leaving little to imagination. “You didn’t seem to protest”, he leans in, “Especially since you proved you could easily escape me.”

Swallowing thickly, she exhaled through her nose. She couldn’t argue with that, now could she? If she wished, she could have forced him to unhand her. She could have fought him, but she didn’t. She may have been startled when he kissed her but she barely tried to push him away and still, when she had the option to back away, she was the one leaning in for a kiss when he lifted her onto the table. He played a game with her and she lost that day and now he gets to be smug about it.

“As your husband, I promise to protect you from all others. If anyone harms you, they’ll part with their life. For that alone, I deserve an occasional view.”

Winking, he takes a step back and sends a smile in Genya’s direction before turning on his heel and walking out.

“YOU KISSED HIM?!”

Groaning, Y/N throws her head back, “Sort of. It’s more like he kissed me and I didn’t fight him on it.”

“So, does this mean you like him?” Wiggling her eyebrows, Genya squealed in excitement. “Are you bringing him on this plan of yours?”

Holding out her hand, Y/N shook her head, “No, no and no. I don’t trust him one bit and he isn’t exactly a man who’d go along with it.” Exhaling loudly, Y/N decided, “He must be removed along with the emperor.”

When she walked outside, Y/N breath was caught in her throat. The sight of the general on a horse truly felt like a fabrication. Never had she seen a man as majestic as him, as proud and aggravatingly cocky all at once. With his black kefta and the cape, he rode on a black stallion as if he were a mere extension of his will.

She wasted no more time in mounting her white mare, chasing after the Darkling who seemed to only then notice he’s not alone.

Her horse was not above average size, but she was alert and slender-limbed. Her muscles and good nature allowed Y/N to keep up a fairly good pace, never too far behind the black stallion her husband rode. The stallion was clearly riled up, competitive by nature. Anyone else on its back would be a great danger for the rider, but he clearly trusted Kirigan.

The wind blew her hair back and the cold was rather unforgiving on her skin. Passing him narrowly once they entered the woods, she didn’t look back. Instead, she gripped the reigns tighter and continued to breathe as the cold air made her mouth dry and throat scratchy.

Feeling his gaze on her, she relents, looking back at him.

“Where’s your coat?!” He shouted after her and only then did she realize it must have fallen off. Genya made it pretty for a romantic ride, not quite as practical for a race. But that’s not what truly made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. The hint of worry laced in the words of an angry general is what betrayed him and she couldn’t help but wonder – what if it’s more than just lust for him?

“It was slowing me down”, she couldn’t suppress a victorious smile just as he couldn’t suppress an annoyed grunt. Yet they both slowed down, neither of them speaking as they turned around and headed straight to the palace.

“You’re an avid rider.” The general conceded as he dismounted. Before she could blink, he was beside her, his hands on her hips as he pulled her of the horse and effectively stole her breath away.

The rosy colored cheeks left him defenseless as he stared at her too, a little too intently for it to be innocent. Taking her hands in his, he brought them up to his mouth, blowing at them. She kept her gaze at him, undoubtedly in shock as her cold hands started to tingle with the warmth of his breath.

“I’ll have to leave for a few days”, he speaks before she has a chance. “You’ll have the bed all to yourself.”

“Don’t I have to come? If it concerns my peo –“, she began, but he silenced her.

“It’s got nothing to do with the army. I’m merely doing an errand for the emperor.”

Looking at her hands still in his, she pursed her lips. “Doesn’t he have enough servants to do his bidding?”

A breathless chuckle escapes him, “Why? Will you miss me?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorts, “Why? Do you fancy yourself as someone of importance?”

He looked at her like she's the Sun, angrily squinting at every second she spent in his presence. He never looked at her other than in frustration. At least she thought so. It’s how he looked at her a month ago when they first met on a field stained with Druskelle blood. He stood there, alone and victorious as she stepped over the bodies after arriving on this side of the fold with a Sandskiff.

All of their conversations were arguments – she’d narrow her eyes and he’s squint at her, throwing jabs at each other every chance they get, but this felt different. Something changed after the wedding and she wasn’t entirely sure what.

Achingly aware of their closeness, she couldn’t help but ask. "What is this between us?"

Pausing, he looked at her with wonder. If he could put it to words, it wouldn’t make any sense. His mind could hardly fathom what exactly she meant to him other than being a nuisance, but he didn’t exactly hate her as he believed at first when he admittedly hoped she’d find herself eaten by Volcra while crossing the Shadow fold. What he hated was not having a choice. He hated how arrogant she is and how little respect she has for her superiors. He especially hated her mortality, her species and all the atrocities they’ve committed against him and his kind.

He didn’t love her, that he was sure of. He couldn’t possibly care for her either. Lust, winning this game, feeding his ego by having Zlatan’s daughter at his feet is what he longed for. So no, he didn’t love her, but a part of him feared he might love her in time. For the first time in a very, very long time, the Darkling had a fear and it carried her name.

Perhaps that’s why he reacted the way he did when she asked him if there is something between them.

"Nothing." He grabbed the back of her neck, his lips pressing against hers hard.

He was right, she realized. There was nothing between them, nothing between their lips, not even air.

Pulling away, he smirks as she inhales sharply.

"Did you feel a connection?" He looks her in the eye, his lips set in a firm line.

"Yes", she whispers shakily.

His eyes harden as an ache in his chest reminds him of his fear. Someone like him must give up anything he could possibly love for the loss and disappointment are inevitable. She’s mortal, an enemy behind his borders he can never trust. So he will shut his heart out. Love is not an option for the Darkling, he reminds himself. The last time he allowed himself to love was also the day his heart turned to stone. So, he will not love her and she will not love him. He will destroy that possibility, cut any ties that bind them. Lust is the only thing he will let fester.

Leaning in, his lips brush hers softly as he whispers against them, "That's why you're a fool." Stepping back, he heard her gulp. “The connection you feel is lust, that’s all we have and it’s all we will ever have. Accept it.”

“Is that true or are you just afraid?!” Her voice wavers and she instinctively steps toward him, asserting dominance she felt was lost.

“General”, Ivan calls out, just in case Kirigan needed an excuse to leave.

“Afraid?” The Darkling chuckles dryly, averting his gaze to Ivan who waited for him at the entrance. “I’m not afraid of anything”, he remarks as his eyes lock on her lips again, “Certainly not of my wife.”

As he stepped back, the Darkling caught the strangest look in her eyes. It looked like clarity, total and complete sobriety from the ecstasy his presence gave her. She stood proud, despite the self-loathing in her previously warm eyes that slowly turned them back to the ice she held when she first laid her eyes on him.

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart​

Part 5  

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

A Princess. A Queen. A Wife. A Mother.

Medieval AU

Princess Y/N Stark of York New must marry a man chosen by her brother, by the time she is 21. Her brother's council have the perfect man in mind, one that is terrifying and hell bent on having his Queen. But Princess Y/N's heart belongs to another, and luckily so does her hand in marriage.

'A princess is far more powerful than a king, my love. You have the power of merging families and kingdoms. You have the power of carrying hopeful heirs to the throne. You have more power than you know...'

Bold italics are flashbacks.

Series warnings: swearing, medieval views on women, arranged marriage, smut, bloodshed, violence, 18+ readers only

Part warnings: none

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1

Sometimes you found yourself wondering if you were living the life you should be.

You never had the chance to build a relationship with your mother, a relationship you were desperate for the older you grew. During childbirth due to her age and complications, she passed away. And for that reason, your father couldn't stand the sight of you. You were his second child and a girl no less, there was no need for you or the loss of his beloved wife and Queen.

Although your father died when you were just five years old, the most part of you was glad of it. You had hardly any memories of him, but you were certain you were unhappy in his presence.

Your older brother and Crowned Prince of York New, Tony, reassured you daily that your father did love you but you never quite believed him. Even when Tony had been crowned the King of York New, you were unsure he was telling the truth. You knew your brother loved you, unlike your father, it showed in his brown eyes that he did.

"It's just you and I, Little Princess." Tony smiled lovingly and softly at you as he brushed away your fallen tears.

You sniffled, burying your face in his chest. "A-Are... Are you... you, go-going to sen-send me a-away?" You sobbed.

Tony sat back on the cold stone floor of the throne room and pulled you into his lap. "No, Little Princess, no! You're going nowhere, you hear? I need you by my side. You're my Queen." He whispered pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You and me, okay? You and me."

~~~~~~~~~~

Years and years of Tony's rein passed by before you knew it, but Tony kept his word. You were by his side. Even when his advisors or council tried to have him send you away, he made it clear that you were going nowhere until you were 21 years old.

Even when he took under his wing a young orphaned boy, Tony made it clear you were staying put.

The kingdom was in chaos. There had been a attack the castle and surrounding villages, but your armies were stronger, powerful, and mighty. You had been locked away in the highest tower to protect you whilst your brother fought bravely alongside his men. They fought day and night, long into the following day.

By the time word was sent for you to be taken down to the throne room, you were fast asleep.

"Princess Y/N," A soft voice whispered as you were shaken awake.

Your small eyes blinked open and looked upon the face of the guard that had been assigned to looking after you. "Happy?" You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Sir Hogan, or Happy as you called the slightly grumpy man, chuckled softly. "Come, Princess, His Majesty as called for you."

"Tony is safe?" You jumped up, running for the door.

You ran as fast as your little eleven years old legs would take you and didn't stop until you reached the large wooden doors of the throne room. The guards opened the door barely in time for you to dash through them.

"Anthony!"

Tony grinned as he bent down and scooped you up in his arms, hugging you close to him as he held the back of your head. "Little Princess, I'm happy to see you."

You giggled pulling back and looking at his scratched and bruised face. "What took you so long?" You pouted.

Chuckles from the King's closest friends and Knights echoed around the room as the man himself placed you back on the floor. "My apologies, My Queen." He bowed to you making you grin. "I have someone for you to meet."

Your brow knitted together, "Oh?... the head of your enemy?"

More laughs echoed as Tony rolled his eyes as he stood. He held his hand out towards Sir James where a little boy about your age stepped out from behind him. "Princess Y/N, I'd like you to meet Peter... We're going to look after him." He smiled.

Your eyes widened a little. "... He's a boy." You pouted.

Tony nodded, "He is."

"You're getting rid of me, aren't you?"

The young boy gasped, shaking his head. "Don't be silly, Princess. Everyone knows you're not allowed to go anywhere."

You scowled at the boy. "I'm never silly..." You folded your arms and looked away.

Sir James rolled his eyes with a scoff. "Definitely your sister." He muttered so only the King could hear.

Tony shot his friend a glare. "Little Princess," Tony knelt in front of you. "This boy's family was... killed. He had no parents already, but his Aunt died tonight. There was no one left to look after him, the village was, practically destroyed... What would you have me do? Send him away? Let him die?"

You let out a sigh, looking back to Peter. "Do you like horses?"

He nodded, "I like swords too."

Your eyes lit up. "What about bow and arrows?"

Peter nodded, "I'm the best." He said triumphantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You scoffed, "You haven't seen me, yet."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

~~~~~~~~~~

As the years rolled on, your friendship and bond with Peter only grew, as did the council's worries. They decided it was time Tony took a wife and gave the kingdom a Queen once more. Another feeble attempt of them trying to have you sent away. 'It's time you had an heir, there's no need to have the Princess here.' And as he always would do, Tony told them no. You were still the rightful heir to the throne whilst he had no Son and Heir.

You loathed this part of the evening, where one man tried to up the other with gifts, all to impress the King and make himself look superior to others.

Tony leaned over the side of his throne and nudged you, "Look happy, it's your... cow statue, birthday gift." He mocked the gift currently being presented to you, just as bored as you were by the process.

You lowered your face towards your lap and bit back your giggle.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Steven of Brook," The court announcer introduced the next person to present their birthday gift to you.

"King Anthony, Queen Virginia," The blond-haired Prince bowed before you.

"Prince Steven," The King and Queen greeted their friend, happy to see him after so long.

"How are you this evening, old friend?" Tony smiled.

Prince Steven smiled in return, "Very well, thank you, Your Majesty. How are you?"

Tony nodded, "About ready for another drink," He breathed out glancing down to his empty cup.

You let out a small snicker trying to keep up your ladylike facade, knowing Queen Virginia or Pepper as she was known to her close family, would scold you for being improper.

Prince Steven turned his gaze to you and bowed again, "Princess, may I say you're looking breathtakingly beautiful tonight," He teased, knowing how flustered you could get.

You smiled through your blush. "You do flatter me, Prince Steven."

He let out a soft chuckle. "May I present to you my gift?"

"You may,"

Prince Steven nodded and turned his attention to the servant waiting patiently. He took a velvet square box from the young boy and approached you. "Happy Birthday, Princess." He smiled softly at you as he handed you a box and took your hand in his and bowed to you. "I hope you find it as beautiful as I do. My only fear is, your beauty will outshine and render it ugly." He pressed his lips against your knuckles and made you blush once more.

"You're engaged, remember, Prince Steven," Tony teased, glancing over to the brunette woman who was watching the interaction like a hawk.

"Anthony," Queen Virginia scolded your brother from his other side, putting a smile on your face.

"Please ignore my brother, Your Highness... Fool," You hissed playfully at the King beside you, making him chuckle.

Prince Steven stepped back with his hands up to show no hard feelings. "I know what His Majesty can be like, Princess." He chuckled softly, "Please, open your gift, and ignore his Royal Majesty the fool." Prince Steven grinned mischievously.

Tony scoffed dramatically, making you giggle before you opened the velvet box carefully and immediately gasped, "Oh, my," You ran your fingers over the beautiful necklace that laid inside.

"Prince Steven, this is most beautiful." You smiled, memories of your first time in Brook rushing back to you.

Prince Steven let out an audible sigh of relief. "Is it the same colour? As the sea in Brook."

You nodded, looking up to meet his waiting gaze. "...Yes. Thank you,"

Prince Steven smiled, "You're welcome, Princess. I'll allow you to get back to your other guests." He bowed again, "Happy 16th Birthday, Princess," He whispered before he left to be by his fiance's side.

The guests continued to present their gifts to you and the King, and although they were all unique and beautiful in their own way none were as beautiful and meaningful as Prince Steven's.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Brock of Lower East,"

Your blood ran cold and the great hall fell silent at the mention of that man's name. The dark-haired Prince smirked as he approached you, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Your Majesties," He bowed (if that's what you could call it) to your King and turned his attention to you. "How beautiful you look tonight, Princess Y/N."

You held your head high keeping your gaze fixed ahead of you. "Thank you,"

Prince Brock turned his attention to Tony, "I do hope you've taken my request into consideration, Your Majesty."

Tony's brow knitted together. "There's no need, Prince Brock. My sister is not of age yet and, I'm sorry to say this but you are not who I intend for her to marry."

You gasped loudly drawing the attention of those closest to you, turning in your throne to gape at your brother. "Tony, please-"

He held his hand up to silence you, "Present your gift to the Princess, and we'll discuss no more of this business."

"Very well." Prince Brock nodded with a tightly set jaw as he clicked his fingers at the servant. He snatched the much smaller box from the shaking boy's hands. "It seems somewhat pointless now." He stepped forwards and placed the box in your hands, letting his fingers graze yours. "But, I will buy you a thousand and more if it means you becoming my wife."

"I said, enough!" Tony slammed his fist against the armrest of his throne, it echoed around the silent hall.

"Please, my love," Queen Virginia placed a comforting hand on her husband's arm to calm him.

You scowled down at the box, opening it to find a hideous engagement ring. "I can not accept this-"

"You must. It is your birthday gift... nothing more, thanks to your King."

"Thank you, Prince Brock," You thanked him before Tony could speak, sensing he would most likely order his head to be off or something to that effect. You sighed as you closed the box up, handing it back to the servant. You smiled kindly at him and thanked him.

Prince Brock eyed you before glancing over to where Prince Steven was stood with his fiance and his trusted best friend and Knight, Sir James Barnes. "You know, it's almost unfortunate, you being here tonight."

"I'm afraid I don't follow, Prince Brock. How can my 16th birthday celebrations be unfortunate?" You scowled at the man.

"Well... on one hand, we are graced with your ever-growing beauty and charm, but if it was not for the unfortunate death of your father and King, brought on by those... we shall not mention, you would not be sat where you are." He smirked triumphantly as you visibly paled at the mention of your father.

You felt Tony shift beside you and out the corner of your eye, you saw Sir James begin to disappear away from prying eyes. Anger boiled up inside you, "HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" You shouted and raised to your feet before Tony could stop you. Silence fell over the court as you glared daggers at the prince before you. "How dare you, speak of my father? How dare you show my family and I disrespect, in our own Castle, our own Kingdom.

"The past is the past, Prince Brock, and we do not judge others today by the actions and misunderstandings of others then," You turned and moved over to the servant snatching the Prince's gift back. "If you can not show my family and I the respect we deserve and can only continue to spit evil among our celebrations then I must ask you to leave, Prince Brock, and take your unwanted gift back." You heavily dropped it into his hand.

Silence resumed throughout the great hall as King Anthony stood from his throne and stood behind you. "You heard the Princess, Prince Brock. Leave." He nodded his head towards nearby guards. "Please escort Prince Brock out of the Castle and our Kingdom." Tony placed his hand on your shoulder as the Prince was removed.

"You'll regret this, Stark!"

Once Prince Brock had been removed, you moved over to where Sir James Barnes was stood with Prince Steven and his fiance, hoping the celebrations could continue.

"Sir James, would you care to dance?" You smiled kindly up at him.

Sir James began to blush and glanced to Prince Steven who was being tugged closer by his fiance. "Shouldn't you be asking one of the princes to dance, Your Highness?"

"There'll be plenty of time for that, Sir James. But for now, I would like to dance with a kind man, I hope will be a good friend of mine one day." You smiled.

Sir James began to grin before he nudged Prince Steven's side. "Tough luck, Princey." He jabbed at the blond prince making you smile.

Prince Steven chuckled, "Have fun, Bucky." Prince Steven smiled warmly at you with a nod. "Princess,"

You nodded, "Prince Steven," You looked to his fiance with a faux smile, "Princess Margret."

Sir James lead you into the middle of the crowd as the music began to play, and slowly the two of you began to move together.

The two of you danced in comfortable silence until Sir James cleared his throat, "I must thank you for your kind and brave words, Your Highness." Sir James whispered.

"They were the truth, Sir James."

He nodded, "Still. I know what my father did all those years ago, isn't the easiest thing to forgive."

You shook your head. "But it doesn't reflect the person you are." You smiled up at him. "You're a good man, Sir James... a far better man than Prince Brock." You reached up and pressed a kiss to his cheek before excusing yourself and left through the french windows with Peter.

"Buck?" Prince Steven approached the brunet knight. "Everything okay?"

Sir James nodded and turned to face his best friend and Prince of Brook. "More than, Your Highness."

"You seem to be getting on very well with the Princess, James." Princess Margret spoke from beside her fiance with a hidden look.

Sir James nodded, "She's a very kind young princess, Your Highness."

Prince Steven nodded, "That she is, Bucky." He smiled as he turned to watch you walk out of sight into the gardens.

[lettrespromises]

#LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

──➤ Roronoa Zoro sent you a love letter to celebrate +400 followers, would you like to read it?

@newfriendjen sent a letter : ❝Hi Friend! Congrats again on your 400!! You definitely deserve many more! If you still have a spot open for you event (ignore if you filled them!), can I request: Smut Prompt #15 with Zoro 😏 please and thank you so much!❞ the author sent a letter : ❝dear jen, to say i got a bit carried while writing this is a bit of an understatement! but i hope you’ll like it as much as i liked writing it, all while cackling like a villain as i was writing this. thank you tons for the sweet words, you are such a sweetheart and i’m so lucky to know you! sending you lots of love! sealed with a kiss, nikki.❞

──➤ Prompt used : #15 “Look at what you’re doing to me.” ─➤ Genre : Smut. ➤ Warnings : MINORS DO NOT READ THIS, 18+ ONLY. Sexual intercourse, jealous sex, mild degradation, choking, biting, cunninlingus, penetration, spanking (once), sir kink.

The weather of the New World was often unforgiving, unpredictable, and at times, untamable. Sometimes, Mother Nature showed she was capable of crossing the limit of Nami’s extended knowledge regarding climate (and God knows her brain was severely infused with every secrets regarding the different kinds of weather, rendering her as a living, walking encyclopedia.) But alas, sometimes the rage of Mother Nature would be thrown upon any poor ship unready to face her wrath in the forms of undying tornados and waves that could reach the sky.

Hence why, every morning, Nami’s prediction on today’s weather was awaited by all, very much like a prophecy which was often set to come true— and if said prophecy announced any kind of weather gravitating around the lexical field of a natural catastrophe, one wouldn’t be surprised to perceive Usopp down on his knees in a praying position, diverse and unintelligible wishes to survive Mother Nature’s anger.

Much to the crew’s collective joy, the navigator had announced the most ideal weather— sunshine, a slight breeze and no cloud in sight, what appeared to be a regular weather in heaven. And, why of course, such a hot weather meant that both Nami and the local archeologist, Nico Robin, would bathe under the sun and relieve any kind of tension which had settled in after several fights (or just the exhaustion of having to deal with Luffy on a daily basis.)

And there you were, standing like a mannequin in the girls’ room in company of Nami and Robin, the latter throwing you an amused look at the way Nami was comparing which bikini would look better on you— the red one, an appeal for passion, or the black one, a statement of boldness? Her brows furrowed in unison at her poor attempt to make a decision, comparing how the colors married the shade of your skin.

« Robin, how are we feeling about the red bikini? It’s so cute, but I have a feeling something is missing… » The navigator wondered, her gaze falling on the taller woman next to her.

Robin couldn’t refrain from allowing a giggle from leaving her lips, surely it meant that she had her idea, an ill-intentioned one, that is. And, oh well, to say she had just a mere idea was an understatement : as she remained still, Robin summoned a couple of limbs to look for a green-colored bikini hidden in the drawers only to bring it to Nami’s attention. The two women shared a teasing glance, as if they communicated intentions filled with mischief through their eyes alone.

« I do believe something was missing, too. » Robin trailed off, bringing an index under her chin. « Something that might appeal to a certain swordsman. »

The evil cackle falling from Nami’s lips announced nothing good, and the sweet tone of her voice only deepened that sentiment. « You know how the saying goes : great minds think alike. »

« Hold on, what are you—… » You began, only to be cut off by the navigator, « Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to say, Y/N. We’re not fools, you know? You’re going to look like a real stunner with this bikini on, and I know that a certain someone won’t be able to resist. » She concluded her sentence with a wink sent your way, boy, sometimes you did understand why Zoro called her a witch at times.

« Join us when you’re ready, Y/N. I’m intrigued to see how this will go. » Concluded Robin, accompanying Nami towards the door to let you some privacy so you could change into the bikini, not that you have never changed in front of them and vice versa, but oh well.

You were now all alone, still haven’t moved an inch. Your thumb was brushing against the green fabric of the bikini over and over again until it had become some kind of obsession. But the more the motions continued, the more you realized that perhaps there was no other way to get out of this trap glamorously set by Robin and Nami. A sigh of despair left your lips, swearing to yourself that you’d have your payback sooner than later.

The door of the girls’ bedrooms slammed open, allowing your figure sculpted by the finest hands of the muses of beauty to be exposed to the kisses of the sun. The first sound to rip apart your thoughts was a squeal which left Nami’s mouth, the latter shaking Robin’s forearm with urgency to bring her attention onto you. « Robin, Robin! Look at her, isn’t she to die for? I’d bet all my money that Zoro is going to throw himself on her. I mean, just look at her! »

The same amused smile graced Robin’s facial traits, lowering her shades just a bit to have a good glance at how the oh so awaited green bikini embraced your body. « I must confess that it’s impossible to resist her. »

The words leaving her lips became clearer and clearer the more you approached them, a palette of rosy tones sitting proudly on top of your cheekbones at their compliments. « We saved you a seat, Miss I’m-too-sexy-for-my-own-good. Come with us! » Nami said, patting the empty spot next to her to which you wordlessly replied with a nod, sitting between her and Robin.

« You’re so evil, I kinda hate you for it. » A smile plastered upon your lips as the words died on your tongue.

« You love us and you know it. » Nami replied, letting her hand lingering on your forearm. « Ooh, would you look at that, Robin? The show is about to begin. » She concluded, taking a sip out of her cocktail with a gleam of mischief shining in her eyes.

And by show, the navigator undoubtedly meant the sudden appearance of the Sunny’s resident lover who had stormed out of the kitchen with a plate of different kinds of treats and cocktails for his ladies, spoiling them rotten on sunny days if it meant he could allow his eyes to linger a bit on your bodies in bikinis.

The first act of the show had begun in a flashy manner, as soon as Sanji closed the door leading to the kitchen behind him, the plate he was holding had fell onto the floor, a loud echo reasoning into the swordsman’s ears who was stuck in a deep state of slumber… Until now.

« I must have saved a country in my previous life to be worthy of such a privilege. » Sanji sobbed, falling onto his knees, « Y/N, you’re a goddess amongst us, we’re not worthy, I’m not worthy of your beauty. I will worship you everyday, I will cover you in love until my very last breath! » The cook continued, more and more praises falling from his lips in a continuous cascade as your cheeks were getting more and more red by the second. Alas, the more the blonde sang your praises, the more the swordsman was stirring awake— and if there was one thing Zoro hated with passion besides Sanji, it was waking up to loud noises.

Sanji had approached you, on one knee, the back of your hand pressed against his lips as the tears falling from his lips mixed with the blood leaking from his nose. « Thank you, my goddess, thank you for blessing my sore eyes. Words can’t describe how—… » And he went on and on again, his lips still traveling from the back of your hand to your forearm under Nami’s disgusted stare who yanked you away from him.

« My goddess—… »

« Oi! Do you ever shut up, stupid cook? » And despite the numerous occasions on which Zoro and Sanji have fought, Zoro’s words seemed intensely more acerbic, as sharp as the swords laying to his side, which even surprised Sanji.

« Were you talking to me, mosshead? » Sanji taunted.

« I don’t see anyone else here acting like a damn fool. » Zoro began, his sole eye conveying so much anger you could feel it. « Know your place. »

Nami elbowed Robin once more, the latter having long forgotten about the book sitting on her lap at this point. Sanji stepped towards the swordsman, dangerously reducing the space between the both of them until their foreheads were touching. There was no frown noticeable on Zoro’s face, but a blank expression which let through a pure anger. « She belongs to me, hands off what’s mine. » The swordsman spat, his shoulder hitting Sanji’s as he walked past him, leaving the cook in a stupor.

« Oi! You. » He said, pointing at your frame with his index. « Follow me. You and I are gonna’ have a word. »

He cursed himself for allowing his gaze to fall on your form, knowing damn well that with each second he spent looking at you in this green bikini (this damn color, he thought), the more he was falling under the spells casted by the muses of lust.

« Go get some! » Nami whispered, her tongue gracing her bottom lip.

« We expect all the details afterwards, my dear Y/N. » Robin giggled.

You had barely enough time to form any kind of response that you felt the foreign presence of Zoro’s digits snaking around your wrists and yanking you towards him. « Hey, I’m sure we can talk about this calmly, right? We can chat about it over a drink, I’ll ask Sanji to—… » Alas, your sentence never found its end, your mind going numb at the death glare Zoro sent your way as you mentioned Sanji’s name. But, paradoxically enough, it only fueled your arousal even more.

Zoro led you to the crow’s nest, trapping you and him both inside the same room. And as the silence grew heavier and heavier, until becoming asphyxiating, Zoro’s snicker broke the silence in the most mischievous way. A look of confusion was painted on your face, and you were quick to point at it. « W-What are you laughing at? »

« Do you think I’m fucking stupid? » Zoro half-asked.

You tilted your head to the side, slowly backing away until your back met the unforgiving surface of the wooden wall. « Answer me. » He demanded, one of his hand grabbing both of your wrists in one hold pinned above your head whilst his other hand cradled your jaw so you had no choice but devote your attention onto him.

« I don’t know what you’re talking about. » You pleaded, cheeks burning under the rosy tone as you felt his uneven breaths crashing against the column of your neck.

Wrong answer, Zoro shoved his knee between your already trembling legs. « You like the attention, hah? You love it when that pervert of a cook was throwing himself on you, is that it? Tch. » He was feeding his lust off of the scared expression on your face, blood rushing in the tightest space possible by the second.

« No answer, huh? ‘Guess I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, because it looks like you forgot who you belong to. » And with that, he dug his teeth into the skin of your neck, alternating between biting and sucking motions to form the most ravishing love bite— a symbol of belonging if you will. You squealed at the sudden sensation of his pearly whites inking his name into your skin, giving him exactly the reaction he was anticipating.

You rocked your hips against the thigh settled between your legs, a desperate attempt at getting some friction for your poor and aching core in need for attention. Zoro clicked his tongue once more at your antics, choosing to hush you by continuing the trail of hickeys adorning your martyr of a neck. « Care to explain what you’re doing? Throwing yourself on my thigh because you couldn’t get the shit cook, hah? You’re so fucking desperate, it makes me want to leave you there all alone. »

« Zoro! Please don’t, don’t leave me! I just need you, I don’t need anyone else but you! I promise I’ll be good but please, please, don’t leave me. » You pleaded, a clear veil of despair covering your eyes under his impassible expression.

The façade worn off soon, letting a smirk throne amongst his facial features instead. « Who do you belong to? » Zoro demanded, gliding the hand that was under your chin to your throat and applied just enough pressure to make sure to earn absolute submissiveness out of you.

« Y-You… » You choked out, the lack of oxygen marrying so well with your growing arousal.

His smirk only grew wider, a real testimony of the sick thoughts implanted in his brain that would make a demon blush. Both of his hand retreated to his side, gaze falling on the unmissable erection showing through his dark pants. His eyes alternated between you and the bulge in his pants, your mouth going dry at the wordless order. « If you want to be a whore, then be a good whore and suck me off, yeah? Don’t give me those eyes, you want it. »

You sunk to your knees, tongue wetting your lips in anticipation for what was bound to come. And whilst your eyes were stuck on his form, your fingers were busy tugging down at his pants to reveal his grey underwear stained with pre-cum. The sight of this alone was enough to send yet another wave of arousal down to your core. And as his cock sprung free from the constriction of his boxers, his girth slapping against his exposed abdomen and the tip rouge from anticipation, you were convinced you could’ve come undone from the sight of this alone.

« Suck. » He ordered, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force your towards his aching cock and the veil of pre-cum coating the tip.

And thus it began. You flattened your tongue, drawing a large lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip where you finished with a few kitten licks, knowing damn well the head was where all the nerves devoted to pleasure were hidden. « Don’t tease and put your mouth to good use, whore. » Zoro said, almost betrayed by the groan threatening to be released.

Following the rules of performative language, you began to rock your head back and forth around his cock, making sure that your tongue was coating in a lustful love each inch of his girth whilst hums of pleasure were leaving your lips as you went. The hold of your hair in Zoro’s fist grew tighter and so did the metaphorical knots in his stomach as you went along, until the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat— such enticing sensation earned a growl out of him. Fuck.

« F-Fuck. Look at what you’re doing to me… Ah! Shit. Enough! » He ordered, yanking your head away from his cock, and the sight of the corners of your mouth dripping with the sweet marriage of his pre-cum and your drool could have provoked an orgasm out of him at this very moment.

« It’s too soon, and it’d be giving you what you want, huh? Too fucking bad, I’m going to cum in that sweet pussy of yours and you’re gonna love it. Ya’ hear me? » He asked without really asking, and taken by a rush of lust, you could only nod in return. « Y-Yes. » You stuttered. « You’re missing something. » Zoro added. You swallowed thickly before adding « Yes, yes, sir. » Your response caused an ill-intentioned snicker to fall from his lips. « That’s right. Now get on your back, and make sure to be as loud as you can, I want everyone on this damn ship to hear how I can make you scream. »

Zoro’s glorious height forced you to lay back until your spine touched the mattress where all the sins would soon break free. The smirk on his face never left, a pure testimony of what all the sinful deeds he was bound to accomplish. You were now trapped between his forearms, hips circled by his knees— bending under his dominance. « Did you wear that for me? » Zoro asked, slapping the string of the bikini top against your skin.

« I d-did, it’s all for you because I’m all yours. » Your response caused a chuckle to break from his lips, sweet words feeding his ego some more. And in a flash, his fingers had ripped said bikini top in half (you made a mental note that you now owed a serious debt to Nami), and there you were, (almost) in all you bare glory. « Fuck, if only you knew the things you do to me. »

Zoro wasted no time and threw all caution out of the window as his mouth latched onto your breasts, the motions of his tongue around your bud causing your spine to pay homage to the moon from how arched it was. His pink muscle flickered around your nipple before he swallowed your breast whole, his drool covering your flesh in a sinful veil. And because he was such a giver for his pretty girl, he gave the same treatment to the other breast whilst gasps left your lips over and over again at the methodical motions of his tongue, your anatomy held no secret for him.

« Are you going shy on me now? Did you forget what I said? » He trailed off, reducing the space between his lips and your ear, « I said I want you to be fucking loud. »

And with that, he left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your stomach before tearing apart (once more) your poor martyr of a bikini bottom under your desperate attempts to keep it intact. Were you challenging him? Oh well… Zoro has always been the type to face any challenge thrown his way. « Zoro—… Sir, please! » You pleaded, not knowing really why.

« You’re such a desperate little thing, huh? » He leaned down to face your core, glistening in its lustful glory for him and him only. Zoro pressed a finger against your folds, dragging it vertically to obtain a finger pad covered in your slicks. « So fucking wet for me already? ‘Bet that shit cook can’t make you as wet as me. » He stated, confidence embedded in his every word. « Only you can make me feel this way, sir. » You replied before he crashed his lips onto yours in an uncharacteristically sweet manner to cut you off. « And why’s that? » The swordsman asked, already knowing the answer. « Because… Because I belong to you. » He pressed yet another kiss against your lips for having given the answer that had been lingering on his mind. « Good girl. »

Your reward came in the form of his tongue brushing your folds, flickering motions against your sensitive bud sending you in overdrive as continuous waves of pleasure washed over you ceaselessly, the knots in your stomach tightening each time his tongue touched you. Two of his digits poked your entrance, teasing you to let your torture last before they penetrated you. The sudden sensation caused you to let out a dragged whimper accompanied by his name coated in a sinful tone. « S-Sir please, please just fuck me— I can’t take the teasing, ahh, fuck, fuck! Please, please! » You begged, eyelids shutting close under the pleasure.

But your pleas fell in deaf ears as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, sucking onto your sensitive bud to build an orgasm within you that he was bound to deny. He knew you were close by the way you were holding his green hair, tugging him ever closer to your core to amplify the inferno burning within you. But alas, to your greatest displeasure, all the motions ceased in one go under the hint of mischief glowing in his eye.

« You’re gonna cum on my terms, and when I say so. Got it? » He seethed, knowing damn well that his own end was going to arrive soon. He gave his girth a few experimental pumps, allowing the pre-cum to cover his length before shoving the entirety of his cock in one go inside you, barely leaving enough time for your cunt to stretch correctly— and saying that a elongated moan left your lips was an euphemism, the sick grin plastered upon his face grew more and more as the sounds of pleasure drowned in his eardrums. « You’re so fucking tight, shit! » He breathed out, « Look at your pretty cunt swallowing me whole. »

The rhythm of his hips followed the scheme of a crescendo, each slam of his hips against your derrière drew a clearer portrait of both Zoro’s end and your own climax. The nature of the rhythm itself indicated that he was chasing after his own end, and with his head thrown back and his irises dilated under the hunger to satiate the raging fires breaking loose in his abdomen by the second. « S-Sir, it feels— Ah! It feels so good! »

The tip of his cock kissed ever so precisely the roof of your cervix where a panel of nerves designed to draw a lustful reaction out of you every time he thrusted into you. Your vision became more and more blurry until a liquid veil covered your eyes as pearls of tears gathered at the corners of your eyes. Under the pressure of each of Zoro’s thrusts, your body bent to his will and soon you had no longer control over your legs that used to be around his waist, only to be picked up by the swordsman who threw your legs over his shoulder, thus allowing him to reach a deeper part in you and the cries leaving your lips were just the proof of how good he made you feel.

More and more cries echoed against the wooden walls of the room, your sounds of pleasure marrying the groans falling from his lips in a cascade. « Ah, fuck, fuck! R-Right there, please! Shit…! » You pleaded to fuel him some more. His nails were digging into the luscious flesh of your thighs, drawing rouge crescents in his wake.

« Who do you belong to? » He groaned out, his eye admiring the lustful look on your face.

« Y-You! I belong to you, fuck, you a-and no one else! » You attempted to reply mid-moan.

But as much as Zoro knew your anatomy, you also happened to be an expert of his— and the way he planted his nails into your skin, the raw groans loosing their chains to be set free and the way his thighs were shaking… Everything announced the beginning of his own end.

« Cum with me… Now! » He ordered, letting his hand crash against your buttcheek in the process. And there it was, the marriage of two lovers under the spell of lust. The rhythm of his thrusts reached their apex, all whilst he painted your walls with the white color of passion. His own cum was mixing with your own elixir of pleasure leaking from your throbbing core as your cunt was clenching around his cock in despair. The sounds of his hips slamming against yours were long gone now, the room was solely filled with heavy breaths and his name falling from your lips over and over again like a forbidden prayer.

Although Zoro’s stamina knew no bounds, he felt like the oxygen had been knocked off of his lungs. But perhaps it was the price to pay if it meant he could observe you in all your post-orgasm glory after holding it inside you for so long. God, he was so proud of you, proud of every mark he had left onto your skin, proud of the way your skin gleamed under the sweat, proud of being your lover.

« ’S alright, ’s alright. I’m going to pull out, breathe. » Zoro demanded, the sweet tone reserved for you only finding its way back around his words. His digits snaked around his girth to pull out of you, only to witness the satisfying marriage of your cum and his own. You were so good to him.

And whilst you remained unable to move, Zoro fell to your side, his arms quick to lock you into an embrace as your head rested on his chest, his frenetics heartbeats echoing in your eardrums. You loved the peace of the aftermath of any sexual activity involving Zoro, you loved how peace seemed to bend his facial features in the most enticing way.

He was the first one to break the silence, pressing his lips against your forehead whilst he tugged you impossibly closer to him like a reminder that you were indeed here, and would always be. « So whose plan was this, hah? » He asked, earning a giggle out of you in response. « It was Nami’s, although Robin helped too. She said I would one hundred percent ‘get laid’ if I wore this. » You answered, head tilting towards the poor green bikini torn in pieces.

« That witch can go to hell. » Zoro groaned, but the raw tone of his voice was betrayed by the sweet caresses of his digits down your forearm.

« I mean, her plan did happen so I think it’s a win for her. It’s not like you regret what happened, mhm? » Alas, nothing but silence in return. « Zoro? » You called him, but an angel passed. « Zoro! » You repeated more sternly, and this time you were met with the sound of his snores— of course, typical Zoro fashion.

Well, you knew who you were going to thank now.

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil. 

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough​ 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund. 

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative 

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​ @evelynshelby​ @pomegranates-and-blood​ @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr​ for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe! 

 He knew where she would be. 

 The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of. 

 It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day. 

 It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits. 

 It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation. 

 Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God. 

 But sometimes he struggled with just being a man. 

 Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity. 

 Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights. 

 To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness. 

 And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation. 

 Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them. 

 And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone. 

 "Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress. 

 "I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

 "Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

 Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

 "I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

 She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

 "You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

 "I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

 A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

 She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him. 

 But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.  

 "If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves. 

 "Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him. 

 "I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet. 

 The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers. 

 "Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

 She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

 "I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should. 

 Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other. 

 Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his. 

 "Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out. 

 "Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?" 

 "Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know. 

 Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured. 

 His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of. 

 After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand. 

 "Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station. 

 "Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip. 

 They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished. 

 Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel. 

 *****

 With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York. 

 Captured by heathens. 

 Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok. 

 Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils. 

 What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine. 

 When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her. 

 They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her. 

 *****

 "You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

 "There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue. 

 Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

 "They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

 "What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone. 

 Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper. 

 "You slaughter when it suits you." 

 Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

 But it was all in vain. 

 He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

 "Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you." 

 "But not you."

 "No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God. 

 There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead. 

 The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

 The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound. 

 "I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself. 

 The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement. 

 A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

 That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong. 

 He prayed his nightmares were wrong. 

 Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind. 

 The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested. 

 As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive. 

 "You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them. 

 She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded. 

 "Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

 Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding. 

 "Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip. 

 "Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him. 

 "Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal. 

 "Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze. 

 She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

 "Are they treating you well?"

 Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup. 

 And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her. 

 His nightmare coming to pass. 

 He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

 She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

 Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings. 

 "I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

 She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation. 

 Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again. 

 "Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly. 

 Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her. 

 "Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

 She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

 Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

 "Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

 "Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do. 

 At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him. 

 Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

 She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered. 

 "You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin. 

 Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew. 

 "I said leave, thrall." 

 As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away. 

 The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her? 

 "Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

 The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good. 

 "Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

 Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

 "She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

 "No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

 "You love her."

 "How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.  

 "Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

 "I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering. 

 "Aren't we all."

 He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.  

 *****

 The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts. 

 The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains. 

 Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament. 

 Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

 Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips. 

 All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

 He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets. 

 Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'. 

 He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

 As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone. 

 Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

 Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

 For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment. 

 "Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

 The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also. 

 Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

 Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

 "Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

 The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently. 

 Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking. 

 Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

 Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby. 

 He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile. 

 "He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory. 

 The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him. 

 Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize. 

 Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

 "You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

 Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled. 

 His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe. 

 Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that. 

[wall-maria-fritz]

Calm the Fuck Down, Itadori

Yuuji Itadori x Jennifer Lawrence

Summary: Where Yuuji manages to drag Megumi and Nobara to a Tokyo Comic Con.

A/N: I took this way too seriously, jeezus.

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori”

Megumi wanted to shoot himself in the foot.

He absolutely loathed conventions.

Especially when you got a bunch of idiots with a complete disregard for deodorant and personal space simping around in costumes as if they aren’t fully grown men.

Idiots like Itadori, who was currently wasting his life savings on X-Men stickers.

“Yeah,” Nobara piped in, already side-eyeing a man in a green cape with white and blue wings, and funny looking swords that look like box cutters—he was asking her if he could take a picture with her Petra Ral look.

Who the fuck is Petra Ral anyway? Nobara is SURE she looks way cuter though.

“How are you still so gaga over X-Men anyway?” she continues, with a flip of her ginger hair. “You’re literally a sorcerer, Yuuji. You fight curses in real life.”

Almost like whiplash, Yuuji turns on Nobara with an intensity she’s only seen in battle.

“Never. Disrespect X-Men.”

Yuuji was wide eyed; one hand pointing at Nobara, another clutching a handful of stickers and keychains (when did he buy those?) with a very blue woman on them.

Is she… naked? Nobara wonders, but is immediately interrupted by Yuuji’s incoming sermon.

“X-Men is a poignant commentary on society, Kugisaki. It is a masterpiece that only people with taste can appreciate, with characters so well written—“

But Yuuji’s fanboying gospel was cut short when a smattering of whoops and applause erupted from onstage, as a man dressed as… Thanos in a thong—Thongos, he called himself. Ok.—officially started the day’s most awaited event, and that was to meet X-Men’s Hollywood actors, in the flesh!

It was then that Megumi verbalized what everyone was thinking at this point.

“I didn’t know Itadori knew what ‘poignant’ meant”

Yuuji Itadori raced towards the front of the crowd like it was an orgasm out of reach, tightly clutching onto the barricade (also like he was clutching his [redacted]).

He didn’t know when and how his friends managed to catch up to him, but when X-Men’s glittering line up of beautiful people came out on stage, both Nobara and Megumi looked to each other in complete understanding beside him-- of course Itadori was here to simp for Jennifer Lawrence.

And of course he’d spend every yen to his name just to catch a glimpse of this woman in nothing but a skin-tight blue spandex that left no curve nor valley to the imagination.

“I LOVE YOU JENNIFER LAWRENCE”

Yuuji proceeded to fucking shriek in broken English.

“I EAT AMERICAN FOOD FOR YOU”

Megumi and Nobara both took a step from Yuuji.

‘Nope! The weird guy? They don’t know him.’

To their horror, they watch a grinning mouth appear at Yuuji’s cheek, already salivating.

“Gotta give it to ya, punk. That IS one fine ass,”

Sukuna’s mouth let its long tongue lick around his lips.

“I hope you got us some backstage passes, kid”

Megumi and Nobara shivered.

But clearly, Itadori and Sukuna weren’t the only ones going absolutely bananas for the X-Men, it might have very well been the entire building cheering for the cast.

It was until a bald guy in a wheelchair signaled for the audience to quiet down, did the sea of sweaty geeks calm down.

After a few introductions, and further hyping, the mic was finally passed to Jennifer Lawrence, whose character was apparently named Mystique.

Like a child showing off to his parents, Yuuji looks at Megumi and Nobara, pointing at Jennifer Lawrence as if saying, “Look! It’s her! That’s her! It’s actually her!”

Yuuji then proceeds to kiss three fingers raised up like he was doing a Boy Scout’s pledge, and raised those three fingers in there air, whistling three drawn out notes.

The idiot was giving her the Hunger Games salute, Jesus fucking Christ.

“Ehehe. Yeah, show her which fingers you’re gonna fuck her with,” Sukuna chuckles.

Which Yuuji responds to by forcibly jockeying Sukuna’s mouth off his cheek, shutting the curse up;

Yuuji Itadori drinks enough Respect Women Juice to give the Sahara a year of rain, alright.

Soon, everyone was giving Jennifer the salute.

Jennifer waves away the salutes, and stage-whispers into the mic with that raspy and sexy, according to Yuuji, voice of hers, and says, “Psst! Wrong fandom guys!”

The crowd laughs, as Jennifer awkwardly prattles about how she’s contract-bound to only talk about X-Men today, and that she really needs her job, ok?

And to be honest? Megumi and Nobara are starting to like her! I mean, who wouldn’t? Jennifer’s such a sweet, and down-to-earth girl. They’re glad that if there was anyone Yuuji was going to simp for, it’s Jennifer Lawrence.

“It’s such an honor to meet you, Tokyo!” Jennifer greets charmingly. “I was so excited to meet you guys, I didn’t even need to take a shot before I got here!” Jennifer shrugs with an exaggerated look on her face.

The crowd ate it all up.

“In fact, I was SO excited that I pumped myself up with enough anime references to say,” and in that magical moment, Jennifer Lawrence send finger guns down Yuuji’s way and winks--

“That’s one HECK of a JJK cosplay, man!”

And oh my Lord, it was like Yuuji died and went to heaven.

Even Sukuna was speechless.

But if Yuuji had to guess, Sukuna might have even been proud of him if only wasn’t you know, a jackass.

Megumi and Nobara couldn’t really remember what happened for the rest of the segment, because they might as well have leashed Yuuji with the way he was going crazy for Jennifer, hollering to her that he got her lasagna and Cheetos in his backpack in more broken English.

In the end, the two are left to rein Yuuji in as he eagerly waits for Jennifer out the backstage entrance, fully armed with an X-Men comic book and that lasagna he promised.

Yuuji was practically vibrating in excitement.

“Yuuji, it’s been two hours. Let’s go back to campus,” Nobara groaned, moaning to Megumi how Gojo better pay for their babysitting hours.

“She's almost out, you guys--!” Yuuji cries back, as the stage doors finally open to reveal Jennifer Lawrence in a much more sensible outfit of dress pants and a smart, low-neckline blouse.

“Eyes up, Itadori,” Megumi mumbles at Yuuji, who was already getting slack jawed at the sight of Jennifer’s cleavage.

Yuuji swallows the massive lump in his throat, and snaps his eyes back up to Jennifer’s hooded ones.

“Oh hey! You’re that JJK guy!” Jennifer greets good-naturedly. She was smiling radiantly at Yuuji and his friends, first shaking Nobara and Megumi’s hands as she laughed, “Damn, you even dressed up as the main character’s friends! You’re all like Hermione, Ron, and Harry Potter except… well, your characters won’t actually die, eep”

“Do we tell her?” Nobara nudges Megumi.

“Don’t you dare.” Megumi hisses back.

The dark-haired sorcerer then turns to Jennifer with a polite smile, and says in perfect English,

“Ooh, we’ll try not to spoil it for you, Jennifer.”

Nobara snaps her head to Megumi.

“Since when did you speak White???”

“Shut the fuck up, Nobara,” Megumi grits out.

Jennifer winked at Megumi, giving him an ‘I-get-you’ look and finally turned to sign Yuuji's comic book, only for him to freeze.

They both blinked at each other for a moment. One almost as awkward as the other.

Jennifer Lawrence though, god bless her, took this all in stride.

“No worries, dude, I freeze up, too,” she says while pretending to freeze up in jest. “Do you want me to sign your comic book?”

And if Yuuji wasn’t absolutely head over heels in love with Jennifer before, he certainly was now.

“I-- I…” Yuuji stammered.

Megumi and Nobara looked worriedly to their friend, there was no way in hell they were gonna let Yuuji fuck up now. Not after a whole afternoon of body odor and overpriced tentacle art, no way.

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori and give her the comic,” Megumi whispers to Yuuji.

And in a snap, Yuuji Itadori was bowing as low as possible, arms out with his offerings, exclaiming to the highest simping power-- “I BROUGHT YOU YOUR FAVORITE JENNIFER!”

Jennifer’s face lit up at the sight of the lasagna, “Oh wow! You got me food! Thanks for remembering!”

She takes the lasagna gratefully, and quickly signs the comic, “What’s your name?”

“Errr… Y-Yuuji.”

Jennifer returns the comic book to Yuuji, now signed--

‘Thank You for the Lasagna, Yuuji! You know me soooo well!

Stay Sweet <3

-J Law.’

And as if each and every one of Yuuji’s dreams came true, Jennifer leaned forward and gave Yuuji a quick peck on the cheek.

Yuuji couldn’t even react, because in a whirlwind, Nobara was taking a picture of Yuuji and Jennifer, a coral kiss mark on Yuuji’s wide-eyed face.

~

“Calm the fuck down, Itadori,” Megumi groaned for probably the hundredth time now.

But Yuuji didn’t care.

Jennifer Lawrence just kissed him.

He’s pretty sure he can be a little manic with disbelief.

“Yuuji, I swear to god, if you don’t stop, I’m deleting the photo from my phone.”

Nobara was done.

“NO--”

~

In the end, Yuuji may not have anything to eat for the next two weeks, but it was totally worth it.

He managed to convince Megumi to lend him some money.

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame. 

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real. 

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it  was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist. 

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that. 

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face. 

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.” 

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy. 

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.” 

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”  You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain. 

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager). 

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind. 

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.  “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo. 

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu. 

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed. 

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face. 

“Y/N?” 

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever. 

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.” 

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?” 

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect. 

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat. 

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long. 

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her. 

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.” 

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.” 

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop. 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

[ijustwant2write]

Underestimated-Halfdan The Black x Reader

(GIF credit to @jorindelle​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hi! Could you please write an imagine about Halfdan? If so, with smut please ☺️ thank you in advance, I love your imagines!’

Characters: Halfdan the Black x Reader, Harald Finehair x Reader (brother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: SMUT, swearing, kissing, mention of weapons, mention of battle, fighting/violence, touching/groping, dirty talk, mention of cum, fluff

                                        *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun was beating down on us harshly, despite the season turning cold, but with no clouds in the sky we found ourselves sweating as we trained. I was in charge today, these young people knew the basics, though they thought that meant they were ready. They had a long way to go before they were fully prepared for battle.

"Rest for a short while. Lay your weapons down, have some water, try to get out of the sun. We shall be sparring next." I announced, laughing at their relieved faces.

"(Y/N)?" one of the girls called as they sat under the nearest tree, whilst another girl grabbed a hug to pour everyone a cup of water.

"Yes?" I sat down with them.

"Is it true that on the last raid, you found yourself surrounded by five warriors on the battlefield? And you had no choice but to fight them off yourself?!" 

"Yes, it's true. That was a difficult battle, even without being ambushed. You see, we weren't raiding a helpless village, or a meek town. These people were prepared, since the first viking raid years and years ago, they had been training, just like we do. Although they were not up to our standards of skill, they had courage, which, at first, helped them. I had managed to cut down anyone in my path, until they caught me out.”

"So how did you escape?"

"She didn't." someone else spoke up.

All of our heads turned to look at Birger, who was leaning back against the tree, sipping on his water as he smirked.

I raised an eyebrow at him."Oh? I didn't realise you were there Birger, please elaborate."

His expression didn't falter as he sat up."It doesn't make sense. Anyone with enough sense you see that. You say you're able to fight your way through everyone, and suddenly you're in trouble?"

"Well, Birger, if you had ever been in a battle, or even a small scrap for that matter, you would understand that you cannot control everything. Even the greatest warriors find themselves in trouble at times. That's why training is so important. You might learn something if you paid attention instead of gazing at yourself in the reflection of your sword."

The others snickered under their breaths, causing Birger to scowl.“I am going to be the finest warrior-”

“Yes, you will be due to my training. You’re young and naive, but over time you will learn discipline. Everyone, you have five minutes before we start again. And thanks to Birger, we will start with double conditioning.”

It was cruel to the others, but the look of resentment on Birger’s face secretly brought me joy. It was sadistic, though he deserved it. He was right, he would become a great fighter, just like his parents (who were good friends of mine, hence why I had agreed to take him on). I had no idea where his attitude came from, all of his family were very humble; however, he was the eldest of all their children, who the rest of were girls, and as the only son, he was the one who would carry on the family line. And with parents known for their fighting skills, he also had the pressure of becoming a warrior. 

“Birger, may I talk to you?” I said as I dismissed everyone at the end of the day.

He halted in his steps, and I could tell he rolled his eyes before turning around. “Yes?”

“I want you to keep training, I want to keep training you. But I will not tolerate you speaking of me in such an ill manner and spreading lies.”

He shrugged, looking away.“If what you say is true, why are so defensive about it?”

“I am defending my honour. I have fought beside your parents to ensure that the children of this town, children like yourself, have a good and rich future. There is a thin line between confidence and arrogance.”

“I get this speech every day from my father, I don’t need to listen to you too. Especially from someone who uses her husband’s titles to her advantage-”

“Be careful what you say boy, otherwise you shall lose your tongue.” Halfdan suddenly appeared behind me, causing my head to whip up to look at him.

Birger looked frightened, but didn’t back down.“You can’t do that.”

“Who says?” Halfdan’s arm slipped around my waist.

“My parents would-”

“Your parents would thank me. Go on, run home boy.”

It was easy to see that Birger wanted to bite back, his hand was even on the hilt of his sword (a beautiful piece of weaponry gifted to him, I had been jealous of it). Knowing he would get into more trouble or embarrass himself, he sulked away, picking up his pace to catch up with his friends.

“I can handle Birger.” I moaned to my husband, turning around to face him.

He smirked.“I know, but I love seeing him shit his trousers.”

I giggled.“Yes, so do I. Although I would have liked to do that myself, thank you.”

He shamelessly let his hands slide down to grope my arse, pulling me close as he leaned down to kiss me. I held onto either side of his face, loving how he was treating me in that moment. He moaned against my mouth, and although I could feel myself getting worked up, we had other places to be, and I was in the mood for teasing him.

“Halfdan.” I breathed out as his lips travelled down my neck.“We have your brother’s birthday feast.”

He pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“And?”

I laughed.“We need to get ready. I still need to bathe.”

“Well, we should bathe together-”

“You’ll make us late.” I gently took his arms off me.

“Is there something wrong with you today? Are you feeling alright?” he put his hand against my forehead.

I removed it, kissing his hand before taking it in my own.“I’m absolutely fine. Let’s go.”

It was hilarious seeing his reaction. He was gobsmacked as I dragged him along. Of course throughout our relationship, we had teased each other like this before, but it had been a long time since I had fun like this. Halfdan was used to fucking women whenever he liked long before me, and used to making love to me regularly. However, in this moment he was confused as to why I didn’t want him to take me in the field, especially since we hadn’t slept together for over a week, due to clashing schedules. 

As soon as we stepped into our home, I made a beeline for our room, ordering the thralls to start my bath. Another thrall already had my dress laid out on a chair, along with the shoes and jewellery. I was admiring the pieces, knowing that Halfdan had followed me, and I refrained from giggling when he ordered the thralls to leave. 

“Halfdan,” I faked shock,“they need to run my bath, I have to get ready!”

“Why are you so insistent on being on time? We’ve been late many times before.”

“Because we have a reputation to uphold.”

“A reputation?” he walked closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his chest against my back.“We’re known for loving each other very much.”

“You grow weak in your age Halfdan.”

He tensed.“Say that again.”

“Are you scared you won’t last the night anymore? You’ll cum just looking at me?”

He quickly turned me around to face him, pushing me against a nearby wall.“You think I can’t fuck you all night? Afraid I won’t be able to make you scream my name until your throat is hoarse, and make your legs shake so much that you can’t walk the day? You don’t think I can kiss every inch of your body, making you squirm so much that you just beg me to take you? You know how you look the next day, marked by me so everyone knows what we did the night before, and everyone know how good I can fuck you?”

Although I could feel myself getting wetter, the stubborn part of me wanted to keep us this act, because when Halfdan was riled up, the sex was on another level.“Halfdan, I need to get ready.”

The shit eating grin that had slowly formed on his face as he teased me instantly disappeared. He was pissed off. Slowly moving away from me, his fingers lingered in mine.

“R-right.” he mumbled.

“I’ll be as quick as I can. Go, I’m sure the thralls have everything ready for you too.” I pecked him on the lips before ushering him out, becoming giddy at the thought of us fucking later. 

With a smile on my face the entire time I was getting ready, I caught the thralls exchanging looks, they knew what was coming tonight. I felt slightly bad for them, they couldn’t escape the noise we created. But Halfdan and I had never been afraid for other’s to know how much we loved each other.

Surprisingly, Halfdan didn’t try anything on the way to the hall. He knew I wasn’t giving in so easily. We greeted Harald upon our arrival, who was already in the midst of a group of friends. Guests were trickling in, we were just on time. Harald’s smile beamed as he spotted us, arms opening for a rough, manly hug with his brother, before gently embracing me with a light kiss on both cheeks. Our thralls added his gifts to the growing pile as we were handed drinks, starting off the night that was sure to end well.

“Brother, you seem tense this evening. You have your beautiful wife beside you, what could you be upset about?” Harald laughed as we sat at the head table, just finished with our elaborate feast. 

“No I am not.” Halfdan poorly defended himself.

“Speaking of wives,” I interrupted, leaning across my husband, hand resting on his thigh,“shouldn’t you be down there dancing with eligible young ladies?”

Harald cleared his throat.“Well, I’m not much of a dancer-”

“Nonsense! You need to find yourself a wife! They’re all dying for you to even glance in their direction. And if you don’t find someone tonight, it’s your birthday, you should be having fun.”

He grinned at me.“Well, if you insist. It is my birthday after all.”

I laughed as my brother-in-law practically ran down to the gaggle of women in the room, seeing him manage to convince one to dance with him. The music was upbeat, a lot of people were now dancing, the alcohol in their systems giving them more confidence. They were singing as they danced, laughing the whole time. Looking at Halfdan, you wouldn’t think you were at a cheerful celebration. He noticed me suppressing my laugh, but when his foul eyes darted to look at me, I couldn’t contain it any longer. Heads still turned to look at me as I laughed, despite the volume of the music. 

“I’m glad you are enjoying yourself.” Halfdan spat.

I struggled to speak, talking between laughs.“Yes...I really am...I’m sorry my love....but your face!”

He just scoffed at me, downing the rest of his drink.

“Oh Halfdan, you grow grumpy with age.” I leaned over, fluttering my eyelashes at him.

“Now you call me old.”

I hummed, slowly sliding my hand across his thigh.“You are so tense, as if you were made of stone.”

“I will not play your games.”

“That’s shame.” I lowly said, rubbing my hand on the inside of his leg, moving further upwards.“I can always stop if you want.”

He took in a shaky breath, looking out at the crowd dancing. I placed my hand on top of his crotch, grabbing him firmly through his trousers, enjoying it as he closed his eyes. I moved myself to sit on his lap, nothing out of the ordinary, there were many couples doing just the same. With one arm still working on his crotch, and the other wrapped around the back of his neck, I started to kiss him. Halfdan took no time in grabbing my arse, trying to pull me closer to start grinding on him. Using my dress skirts to cover his lap, I used that to hide my hand disappearing into his trousers. Halfdan’s head tilted back as I gripped onto him, working him like I know I could and how he liked it. His moans were quiet, he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, though I could tell he was starting to struggle.

As my pace sped up, and his body began tensing up even more, I kissed him one last time before completely stopping, even standing up to expose his hard member. He rustled with his trousers, glaring at me as I started to walk away. I managed to make it outside before he grabbed me.

“You think you can just leave me unfinished and exposed like that?!” he snapped.

“I just did.”

“All day with this foolery! Well it stops right now.”

He laced his fingers with mine, dragging me away from the hall, and I started to get excited until I realised we were headed towards the stables. I ripped my arm away from him, holding up my arms as he tried to grab me again.

“You are not fucking me in a smelly stable, we are going home to our bed.” I sternly demanded.

“I cannot wait that long.” he growled.

“Halfdan, I’m not a whore. I’m your wife and you’ll do well to remember that.”

As soon as the last word left my lips, I stormed off in the direction of our home, smirking when Halfdan let out a loud groan. But he soon caught up to me, holding my hand again, kissing it to try and get me on his good side. When he saw my lips twitching up into a smile, he grinned, pulling me along, urging my feet to go faster.

We ran through our home to our bedroom, and I was immediately pushed against the door, Halfdan’s fingers already working to untie my dress. Having done it so many times before, it easily fell off my shoulders, causing me to shiver at the sudden coldness that hit my skin. Halfdan’s hands were warm as he ran them down my body, squeezing my breasts before travelling further down. One arm wrapped around my waist as his other hand started to rub my clit, slowly circling it. I let out a breathy mouth, already rotating my hips against him. His hand on my waist gripped me, it kept me in place as he slipped in a finger, despite wanting to write against him. As he entered another finger, he got onto his knees, driving his face in between my legs, his tongue working with his fingers to pleasure me. I gripped onto his hair as my knees buckled, trying to keep myself standing.

Whining as he stopped and got back onto his feet, my mouth dropped open as he licked his fingers in front of me.“Get on the bed.”

I moved instantly, sitting on the edge of it. He kept eye contact with me as he stalked over, his steps agonisingly slow. Knowing how this usually goes, I started to spread my legs for him, about to move back onto my elbows when he stopped me. I was looking up at him through my eyelashes, knowing what he wanted. It was my turn to undress him now. As he removed his shirt, I unbuckled his trousers again, pulling them down as I cast my eyes on his dick It was still hard, and I took him into my mouth as he grabbed the back of my head, tugging at my hair like I had done to him. I moaned around him, using my hands to take what was left of him as he pushed my head back and forth on his dick. I used to struggle to take him on with my mouth, but after so much practice, I could do it whenever I wanted to please my husband without hesitation.

Removing his hands from the back of my head, I took in a big breath of air as I pulled away from him, wiping away the saliva around my mouth. I didn’t want him to cum in my mouth, I wanted him to cum inside of me. He pushed me onto my back, flipping me onto my front. I raised my arse in the air for him, spreading my legs and reaching through them to touch myself. He hated when I did that, only he wanted to pleasure me. Grabbing onto my arse cheeks, he used his dick to tease my clit, sliding it along it and using my wetness to soak him. 

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.” he growled.“You deserve this, you’re going to be screaming, begging for me to stop because it’s too much, but I’ll keep going until I’ve cum inside you.”

“Please...” I said,“please Halfdan, I want you inside of me.”

I felt the head at my entrance, he slowly slid inside of me, both of us moaning at how each other felt. Halfdan wasted no time, starting to thrust into me, hard and slow at first before getting faster and faster. His fingers made my skin sting as he gripped at it, pulling me back and forth harshly. At one point he stopped, pushing my knees together to make me even tighter. 

“Fuck, Halfdan!” I cried out, head shoved into the bed as I clung onto the furs beneath me.“You’re so good!”

He slapped my arse.“You feel so good! Shit, I’m going to cum.”

“Not yet.” I managed to say, somehow crawling away from him.

I already missed the feeling him inside of me. Moving further up the bed, I rolled onto my back, opening my legs for him. He climbed onto the bed, lining himself up with me again. Halfdan laid on top, kissing me as he slid inside again, his fast pace picking up again. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he pined my arms down. It was intense, he was looking down at me as he continued to fuck me. I held eye contact with him for as long as I could, but the pleasure was all too much. As I got close, I threw my head back, crying out his name. He cried out as he came inside of me, but kept thrusting to finish me off. Sitting up, he put my legs over his shoulders, reaching down to rub my clit to send me over the edge. My legs shook as I came, screaming out his name one last time.

He gently lowered my legs, enjoying how much they were still shaking and how sensitive everything felt. He laid beside me, pulling me close to him and kissing me softly. 

“That was fucking amazing.” I breathed out, cuddling close to him.

“You’ve been bad today, on purpose.” he smirked.

“Yes.” I giggled.“But isn’t the sex worth it?”

He reluctantly smiled.“Yes.”

“I like teasing you. Have you noticed I’ve got better over the years?”

“Indeed you have. but you learnt from the best. Look at you, you’re still shaking.”

He cupped me, and I winced, clutching onto his arm.“Yes. Just a few more minutes.”

“Hm?”

“You didn’t think that was it did you?”

“Oh, there’s more?”

“Tut tut Halfdan. You grow tired in your old age.”

He suddenly straddled me again.“I’ll show you old age.”

[let-it-show]

Safe and Sound

Hello hello! This here little ficlet was written for wonderful @junglekiing who had been looking for writing of their Tiger!Elsa AU that would also be FLUFF.  Here we have Anna and Elsa in a moment to themselves, and Elsa makes it clear how happy she is. ------- Every single day Anna learned something about the friend she had taken home with her from the woods. Hybrids were uncommon in Arendelle, even if a handful were known to live and work in the kingdoms. Those individuals were part of the community and as much as they intrigued Anna, she could never get herself to approach them and ask them a deluge of questions. She had so many! But, well, she also was always teaching herself to squish her excitement aside to avoid being rude, and so she tried to stick to the books so could find about them. The books never prepared her for Elsa.

Since returning to the castle with her and inviting her to stay, Anna's curiosity was constantly through the royal roof. Everything the part human, part tiger woman did was fascinating, even when it shouldn't be. Elsa licking a cut on her hand instead of cleaning it like a normal person? What! That was so strange but she liked it. Elsa helping her wash dishes even with those bizarre part human and part cat hands? She had to take it in!

On a particular day, Elsa had lounged on the library couch in the sun with Anna and closed her eyes.

That in itself wasn't unusual. Elsa was still adjusting from a nocturnal life to time her own schedule with Anna's. She'd been stuck to her side since that day they returned from the woods, and Anna had no complaints there. She was reading one of her favorite stories during some afternoon downtime and Elsa loved to just exist with her. She couldn't read herself, not yet.

Elsa's head was leaned against the back of the couch, the rough pads of her feet - her paws - whatever - against Anna's thigh where there was a split in her green dress. Her tail dangled over the front of the couch and the end of it twitched every now and then. A pillow was held in her arms, both hands digging in as though she were kneading. Elsa was clad in an elegant, sparkly blue dress she'd made herself with her own powers.

Because of course she had powers, weird icy ones. Anna had no idea if that was normal, but it sure was their little secret and drew her to Elsa even more.

Anna sighed with contentment and set her hand on the top of Elsa's foot. "Sleepy thing," she said quietly, smiling.

Then she startled as her words were quickly followed by a soft response. "I'm not asleep. I'm quite awake, thank you."

"O-oh! Sorry! I'm used to you drifting off...this must mean you're making it through the day better, then!" That would be great! Anna had been able to coax Elsa into snuggling with her, something the blonde had been terrified of at first because she didn't want to hurt Anna. When no harm had come, Elsa was eager to curl up with her. Anna wasn't sure what they were, yet, but she knew she wanted to sleep through a whole night being held by her. "You're not tired at all?"

"No," Elsa answered gently. "Just...safe."

Anna blinked and lowered the book she had been reading. She turned to look at Elsa, her eyes still closed. "Safe?"

"Safe," Elsa repeated, then opening one eye to look back at Anna. "We big cats only close our eyes and truly relax when we feel very, very safe."

"But you sleep in the day all the time!" Anna blurted, before covering her mouth with her hand. "I mean, I'm not judging or something-"

Elsa laughed. The sound felt just plain GOOD. It tickled her heart with warmth. "I know. I know. That's where you have to remember I'm not all cat, and I know I need to rest and sleep no matter what. But rarely have I ever allowed myself to relax, like this."

"Oh." Anna lowered her hand from her mouth, feeling a bit silly.

"It feels wonderful," Elsa murmured, and that one eye closed again. "It feels...like the weight of the world has slipped away, and I can simply be."

"I love when I feel like that." Anna didn't feel like that too frequently as she was Queen, but she handled the stress well enough to be able to relax.

For a moment, silence hung in the air. "I have not felt like this is many, many years. I was on my own for a long time when you found me, Anna."

Anna had learned snippets of Elsa's past here and there. She knew she had left her family for some reason, and sometimes caught that she was outcasted. At the same time, she had also picked up hints that-that Elsa herself held some sort of powerful position in her family. In her herd...no, that didn't seem right in her head, did tigers even have herds? What would a group of tigers be called anyway? A stripey surprise?

Her thoughts were distracted when Elsa spoke again. "I never....never thought it could be like this again, either."

"Elsa!" Anna's heart felt like it exploded, or imploded, or whatever. "Why? Did you really think you'd always be alone in the northern forest?" Anna had completely closed her book, Elsa's soft, fuzzy foot gripped in one hand.

"Well...yes."

At that answer, Anna swallowed and made an immediate and very firm decision. "You'll never be alone again! Elsa, I swear, as long as I am alive and Queen, and those two are the same because I think I only stop being Queen when I'm dead, UNLESS- nevermind, I don't know where I'm going - I swear you will always be a part of this castle. Of this family. This...family of you and me and that snowman you made a couple of weeks ago who keeps popping into the kitchen unannounced, which reminds me, the staff who know about you are family-"

Something swatted Anna's ankles. "Anna, Anna hush, I get it." Elsa lightly got her with her tail one more time. "I'm honored you would trust me so much and accept me and I...well...I..." Elsa opened both eyes again, the striking blues rendering Anna speechless. "...Thank you, for everything, for your patience and kindness. I love...I love...being here," Elsa said and as the last two words came out, she seemed to lose a little steam.

Behind a locked door in her mind there was more struggling to come out and even someone as bubbleheaded as Anna could see that. As much as she wanted to draw it all out at once, Anna knew she couldn't force anything. And she wouldn't.

"I love having you here, Elsa. Always felt a little empty before, and now...um...well, it doesn't."

"Hmm. 'It' meaning the castle?" Elsa asked her, releasing her pillow with one hand and reaching toward Anna. The fingers on her other hand dug into the pillow in a hastened rhythm, almost excited.

"Meaning...a lot of things..." The castle, her heart, her life, and time as a whole. Elsa felt like the piece Anna often felt was missing, though the tail was a surprise. The ice was...also a surprise. Anna took Elsa's hand, her cooling fur always kind of blowing her mind.

Elsa pulled slowly, drawing Anna down with her on the roomy couch. The sunlight danced on the cold glitter of her blue dress, making her strange friend even more beautiful than she usually was. That was an amazing task; Elsa was absolutely stunning.

Both women shifted as Anna laid her head on the pillow Elsa held, resting just below her chin. Elsa adjusted briefly to kiss the top of Anna's forehead and Anna felt tingles all over her body. She wanted more, she almost ached for more, wanting to kiss Elsa in honest. She had kissed her on the lips a couple of times and it was chaste, but set off sparks. However Anna was patient.

Elsa's arms wrapped around her and casually started undoing her elegant, regal bun. Anna didn't stop her. She never really like wearing it; it was a little tight. Some viewed her double braids as childish, though.

Elsa thought they were cute and would bat at them.

"I've never felt safer than I do right now," Elsa whispered, and Anna smiled.

"Good. You're safe. And...you'll always be safe. I-I know how to use a sword." Anna immediately felt silly. Why did she say that!?

"And I can use ice. May we never actually have to use our skills in such a way, but I'll always make sure you're safe as well."

Somehow Anna hadn't know how much she needed to hear that. She had no idea until it went right to her heart. She had never really been concerned about being protected and kept safe, but hearing such words from the person she clearly adored, well...

She didn't know what to say. Elsa had that effect. No one else was quite so successful at leaving Anna speechless, but Elsa could do it without any effort. Anna didn't even want to respond and not in a bad way. She felt good. She felt like that need to push words, to comment, to ramble, it was soothed. Not every thought needed to be voiced, and not every moment even needed a thought.

"I'll always keep you safe," Elsa told her again, her fingers stroking her hair, the very tips of her claws like heaven against her scalp.

Anna closed her eyes. Just like Elsa, she felt safer than she ever had before.

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 2

Masterlist

Medieval AU

- Norman Invasion of England:

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Warnings: mention of rape, a bit of smut

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to stop you,” Henry said with a wicked grin. “We don’t want the whole camp to hear you whimpering for me, do we?”

“I’ll be quiet!” Thomasin whined. “Please don’t make me stop.”

Henry leaned back. “Go on, then.”

Thomasin sighed with relief and bucked her hips forward, grinding her center against the knight’s firm, thick thigh.  

She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten into the Norman’s tent, let alone how she wound up straddling him, skirts hiked up over her hips to allow for freer movement. 

She hastened her movements, desperately seeking more friction as warmth coiled in her lower belly.

“There’s a good girl,” Henry cooed. His smile was still teasing, but there was tenderness in it too. “My good girl. Thomasin.” She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She concentrated on her movements, on Henry saying her name over and over, his voice growing louder with each iteration. “Thomasin. Thomasin.”

“Thomasin!”

She woke with a start, gasping for air after her climax was ripped away mere moments before it happened. She was so shocked that she might’ve fallen from the horse if Henry wasn’t holding onto her. He was far too close for comfort, especially after that dream. The dream! Thomasin was convinced he knew about it. Why else would he wake her? 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Henry said. He kept his pale sapphire eyes straight ahead rather than glancing down at the young lady in his lap. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” Thomasin snapped defensively. She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was far too early to quarrel by her reckoning, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “Why do you ask?”

Henry shrugged one shoulder. “You were restless, to say the least.”

Oh, God. “How so?”

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. “You were making an awful lot of noise.”

What on earth did that mean? Was she whimpering or moaning like a whore? Did she call out Henry’s name? Or was she snoring and snorting like an old man as her sisters had often accused her? That would be embarrassing, too, but she’d much rather be caught snoring than crying for a man to touch her.

“You should get used to it,” she said. “I quite enjoy the sound of my own voice, and I intend to make rather a lot of noise with it.” The end of her threat was lost in a yawn.

Henry chuckled quietly; Thomasin felt his chest bounce with laughter. She flushed with anger, grinding her teeth. She usually had such an easy time driving people off. She meant to infuriate the Norman, not amuse him. He knew this of course, and it only pleased him more.

He was pleased, too, that she seemed to have recovered from whatever dream was plaguing her. He could swear that she was weeping in her sleep, twitching and thrashing to fight off her imaginary attacker. He’d tried to soothe her as best as he could without acting inappropriately. He’d tightened his hold on her waist and tucked her up against him. At one point, he even hushed her and told her there was nothing to fear. He spoke quietly so the other soldiers wouldn’t hear him – perhaps too low for her to hear. She’d fallen asleep just before dawn and snored awfully until she started thrashing a few minutes ago. 

The snoring was loud enough for most of the men to hear. Henry had a hell of a time trying to bite back his laughter so he wouldn’t wake her. 

He woke her when it was clear that she couldn’t be soothed because he couldn’t stand to hear her cry. Henry hated weeping women, partly because they were a bloody nuisance, but also because he simply didn’t like it to see women cry, especially beautiful ones. 

It never occurred to Henry that Thomasin might dream of lovemaking. She was too pure for it. He could tell she was far more innocent than she let on. Thomasin presented herself as confident and worldly, but she had never spent a night outside of her castle’s walls, nor had she ever touched a man save for a kiss on the hand. That was all in the past now. She’d never see her home again, and the Cavill brothers, it seemed, had no qualms lifting or embracing her like a puppy. 

“It is only you and your two brothers, or do you have sisters as well?” Thomasin asked.

“I’m the fourth of five brothers. We have no sisters.”

“Five?!” She managed to turn enough in her seat to look him in the eye. “Your parents had five boys?!”

“Yes.”

She frowned and turned back around. “You’re jesting with me.”

“I’m not,” Henry promised. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Charlie!” he called over his shoulder. His brother urged his mount forward so he could ride beside Henry.  “Lady Thomasin doesn’t trust my word.”

“Oh?”

“She doesn’t believe me that we’ve two more brothers back in Normandy.”

“It’s true,” Charlie said. “Piers and Nik.”

“Good Lord.” 

Every nobleman in Normandy near Lady Cavill’s age must be kicking himself for not marrying her when he had the chance. What woman could be so beloved to God that He blessed her and her husband with so many boys, and didn’t burden them with any daughters?

“I can hardly tolerate one brother,” Thomasin said. “I can’t think of a worse hell than growing up with four Hammonds.” Not that she liked her two sisters much better.

The eldest, Stephanie, was Thomasin’s favorite. She had long since left the house to get married, but she was widowed after only a few months and chose to take the veil rather than letting her father marry her off again.

Perhaps Thomasin should’ve become a nun. It certainly sounded better than being handed off to the eldest son of her father’s cousin, a grand idiot with a sword who’d probably fall asleep on top of her. But living in a convent meant a great amount of being quiet and sitting still, and that was simply out of the question.

“Why did your king send you?”  Thomasin asked after a moment.

Henry smirked. “Am I not a good enough captor for you?”

She ignored his jab. “Why you, though? We were sure King William was sending his great terror for us.” It’s why all the women and children had fled the Latymer keep.

Henry wasn’t surprised that Thomasin had heard of Baron Lawrence. He was a fearsome enemy in battle and a devoted subject of his king – and about as kind as Lucifer himself. He gained infamy throughout England soon after the initial Norman invasion by making an example of a Saxon baron who refused to yield. He killed the baron, of course, and executed the baron’s sons when they refused to submit to the new king. That’s not what he was known for, though; that was simply the way of things when a noble family resisted.

He gained his reputation by beheading the baron’s wife and daughters, along with the servants who attempted to protect them. It was rumored that he allowed some of his soldiers to have their way with peasant and servant girls, and that some soldiers made the women’s husbands or fathers watch. 

Such a thing would be considered a war crime punishable by death if King William hadn’t pardoned him for it.

“The king didn’t think you would appreciate that,” Henry said slowly. “He thought you might be more inclined to cooperate with us.” The Cavills were gentlemanly, pleasant, and even-tempered, which made them ideal candidates to deal with the Saxon shrew.

“My lord!” one of the scouts riding at the front of the convoy pulled up just in front of Henry. “One of the lads found a place to camp for the night.”

“How far is it?” asked Henry.

“Quarter of an hour, I’d say. Maybe a half,” the scout replied.

Henry looked up at the sky. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but they’d been riding since before dawn without a single break. “Fine.”

“Thank God,” Charlie said. “It’s damn cold and I’m bloody fucking tired from all this riding.”

“Charlie!” Henry snapped. How dare he use such foul language in front of a lady!

Thomasin wasn’t bothered in the least. “I’m afraid England is always cold. If you wanted good weather, perhaps your Duke William should’ve invaded a different country.”

“It’s King William now,” Henry corrected. Thomasin made a noise of discontent. 

The spent the next twenty minutes in silence until they reached a clearing deep among the trees. Thomasin found a large rock to sit on while she waited for the men to set up camp. 

There were about a hundred men in Henry’s infantry. They split into groups of seven or eight to work building fires or tending the horses. A handful were erecting a tent with branches and fur pelts. Henry stood nearby, frowning fiercely with his arms crossed over his chest again. His tunic was loose, but holding his arms like that, flexing his muscles, made them fill out the sleeves so they were pulled tight across his muscles. 

Charlie stood next to his brother, talking quickly and animatedly about something Henry clearly wasn’t happy about. Good. Let him be miserable.

The bear-dog sat at his master’s feet, wagging his heavy tail and looking back and forth between the brothers as they spoke. He had the size and strength of a hunting or fighting dog but the demeanor of a lapdog.  He soon grew tired with the Cavills’ conversation and padded over to Thomasin. He sat down and looked at her expectantly. 

“I haven’t got anything for you to eat,” Thomasin said. The dog was unaffected. He opened his mouth, let his enormous pink tongue hang out between his teeth, and started breathing very heavily. “Go away, bear. I haven’t got anything for you,” she said again. The bear chose to lay down. “For heaven’s sake. “You must behave far more ferociously for people to respect you.”

The dog followed Thomasin around for the rest of the day, which she didn’t mind at all. She rather liked the thing. It seemed to please Henry, too; he could concentrate on his work without worrying about the girl. Kal would look after her. He could even do things that Henry and his men could not, most notably accompanying Thomasin into the woods so she could attend to personal matters.

Thomasin didn’t know this part of the country – she didn’t know anything beyond her father’s lands – but it seemed hospitable enough. She found a brook with cool, clear water and took the time to splash water on her face.

“Do you have a name, I wonder?” she asked Kal. “Or does your master simply call you Bear?” The dog wagged his tail in reply. Thomasin frowned at him. “Where does this brook go, do you suppose?” she asked after a moment. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, though. As long as it’s away from here.” She spent the walk back to camp plotting the route she would take through the trees when she made her escape, which she should probably do sooner rather than later.

Supper was ready when Thomasin finally returned: The men ate loaves of thick, unpleasant bread and dried strips of beef as they sat in small groups around the six fires they’d set up. Henry had something roasting over his fire.

“Do you like hare?” he asked Thomasin as she came over.

“Yes.” She sat down across from him. “Why did you go to all the trouble of catching it? I’m sure the food you brought with you would be plenty enough for me.”

Henry sighed. “In truth, dear lady, I worried you would complain over the quality of it. The bread has the consistency of tree bark, anyway.”

Henry cut up the rabbit when it was finished cooking. He gave one portion to himself, one to Thomasin, one to Charlie, and offered another to his dog in exchanged for performing a series of tricks. 

“Your bear has the temperament of a housecat,” Thomasin remarked. “I’ve never seen a fighting dog that acted like he does.”

“He’s not a fighting dog,” Henry said. “He’s a companion.” He was looking at her braid rather than her eyes. It seemed a small miracle that it could be so long and yet untangled. But he was more interested in the color of it. Thomasin’s hair was a pale strawberry shade in the sun, but it became a deep, rich copper as the sky grew dark. Henry couldn’t decide which shade he liked better. Either way, she had the trademark passionate nature redheads were known for; unfortunately, her passion exerted itself in the form of aggression.

He wondered if her siblings had the same hair. 

“I believe I’ll go to bed now,” Thomasin announced, rising to her feet. “Sleep well, gentlemen.” 

The tent was short but fairly wide. That surprised Thomasin. Why wouldn’t they make several small ones rather than one large one? Didn’t Henry and Charlie expect shelter?

 She got her answer a few moments later. 

Thomasin was just settling in for bed when the tent flap opened. Kal came through first. Henry had to crouch to get inside. He didn’t speak. He simply laid down on the other side of the tent and shut his eyes. 

Thomasin lay in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to explain himself. He didn’t. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep,” Henry replied without opening his eyes.

“In my tent?”

“This tent is in fact mine. I’m allowing you to share it as a courtesy.” He was tempted to open his eyes to see the expression on Thomasin’s face. He smirked at the very thought.

Thomasin wasn’t a killer, but she was quite sure she could cut off one of Henry’s fingers and feel no remorse. The man was a savage – an immature one at that. She may be his prisoner but she was not his whore or pet or plaything. But the only dagger in the tent was attached to Henry’s belt. Fine. She could wait until tomorrow to teach him his lesson. Most likely by shoving him off of his horse.

“You are positively indecent. I don’t know what you expect from me, but I assure you it will not happen. I’ll break your nose before I let you touch me. Aye, I will.”

“I have no doubt,” Henry said through a yawn. “Now go to sleep.”

“Do you know what?” Thomasin’s voice was deceptively mild.

Henry sighed. “No, what?”

“I believe your foul-mouthed little brother is more of a gentleman than you, and he is hardly a gentleman at all. Does your poor wife back in Normandy know she’s married a whore of a man with the courtesy of a donkey?”

“I have no wife.”

“Your intended, then.”

There was a pause. Henry opened his eyes and looked up at the roof of the tent. “I have no intended.” He did once, a beautiful young woman he showered with gifts and affection until she quite abruptly broke the agreement by marrying another. 

Thomasin bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She was pleased that he was unattached, but she couldn’t say why. What did it matter? “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Perhaps I shall ask my intended to castrate you once we’ve reached London”

Henry did smile at that. “Which intended? The unknown Norman baron William plans to saddle you with, or the Saxon coward that fled the moment our ships came ashore?”

“You know about Cerdic?” Her voice was more curious than accusatory. 

“Simon insisted we learn everything about you in case your brother or intended or some distant relation came to fetch you before we got to you.” Henry shut his eyes again. “It seems we had nothing to be worried about.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Thomasin thought Cerdic was a horse’s ass and had once told him so. They didn’t like one another in the slightest, and it was no great loss for their engagement to be broken.

“Tell your bear to come to me,” Thomasin said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m cold and he’ll help keep me warm.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come to him. He stays by my side at all times. Or I suppose the two of us could come to you.”

The two of us! Well at least if he came close enough, she could grab the dagger at his hip more easily. Maybe she could stab him with it. Bastard.

“I’ll allow it.”

She lay on her side, facing away from them. The bear-dog fell to the floor with a great thump rather than taking the time to lie down gently. Thomasin scooched until her back was right against his. Henry lay down on the dog’s other side, his side pressed against the dog’s as closely as Thomasin was pressed to its back. 

“You shouldn’t be sleeping so close to me,” Thomasin chided.

“I was in your room with you when you changed your clothes and you’ve been sitting in my lap all day. I think we’re past the point of worrying about closeness, don’t you?”

“If you toss about in your sleep and get too close to me, I promise I’ll smack you.”

“Luckily for you, I’m a very deep sleeper. You’re the one that snores and kicks.”

“Goodnight, Henry,” she said pointedly.

“Goodnight, Thomasin.”

“Do be quiet, Henry. I’m trying to sleep.”

Henry chuckled; the sound warmed Thomasin’s heart. But it didn’t change anything. She wasn’t going to throw him off of the horse tomorrow; she wouldn’t be able to because she wouldn’t be there. She was going to escape. Tonight.

[advena87]

Keira and Lambert's love story because we need one!

.

Here is Part 2

.

Keira: You must be Lambert. I've heard so much about you.

Lambert: All bad, I’m assuming.

Keira: Uh, yes.

Triss: And all true.

***

Keira: I love this whole "good witcher/bad witcher" thing you two have going.

Eskel: It's not really a thing. It's more like I'm nice, Lambert is not.

***

Lambert: I would never say this to Keira's face, but she is a wonderful person and really smart.

Geralt: Why wouldn’t you say that to her face?!

***

Lambert: So, did it hurt?

Keira: What?

Lambert: When you fell down from heaven.

Keira: No, I'm fine.

***

Keira: What can I say? I'm seductive and irresponsible.

Lambert: You mean irresistible?

Geralt, sighing in the background: No, you heard that right.

Lambert: Wow, she is perfect.

***

Keira: This guy has been bothering me. And he always disagrees with me.

Lambert: Kill him!

Keira: No.

Lambert, softer: I kill him for you?

Keira: Lambert no. Just listen up, there are three ways to argue: words, proof and-

Lambert: Murder!

Keira, sighing: See? This is why your brothers hate you.

***

Lambert: I don't understand women.

Geralt: Nor do I. But they understand us. Well, maybe not you.

***

Lambert: Yeah, I've been doing a lot of thinking. And, I've come to realize that Keira is the only woman I want to be with.

Geralt: You mean today?

***

Keira: I’m not gonna say it was love at first sight with Lambert. No, it was more like oh, hell-yes-please, I’ll have that. With a helping of right-the-fuck-now on the side.

Triss: Oh my god! I'm not judging you or anything - but, oh my god!

***

Keira: When I was six years old I sprinkled sugar on my head, convinced myself it was pixie dust, wished myself invisible, and walked into the boys' bathroom at school.

Lambert: I fucking love her so much.

Geralt: It starts to make sense now.

***

Keira: It is nice to see you again.

Lambert: Are you talking to my butt?

Keira: Yes.

***

Keira: Lambert is a good man, if you ignore all the things he does on purpose and concentrate on all of the things he does by accident.

Triss: Okay. I’m going to picture Lambert without his personality.

Triss: ...

Triss: OMG, Lambert might be hot.

Keira: I know, right!

***

Triss, speaking of Lambert: Ok, he is king of jerks but he does have a terrific ass.

Keira: Perhaps that's why you're always making him leave.

***

*Lambert and Keira just had sex for the first time*

Lambert: Promise you won't tell Geralt?

Keira: I gonna tell everybody!

 ***

Triss: Is everything alright? It sounds like you're having sex in here; which I know can't be true due to the fact that you have a homosexual boyfriend.

Keira: Bisexual, Triss, Lambert is BISEXUAL!

Triss, dramatic, without even listening: Lord tells us to love everyone, even the whores and the homosexuals. But it's so hard, it's so hard because they keep doing it, over and over again.

Keita: Did you just call me a whore?

Lambert: Aw, don't be jealous Merigold, someone may one day fuck you too.

***

Lambert, with an arm around Keira: I was lost... but then I met the love of my life.

Everyone: *collectively awes*

Lambert: But he died, and now I'm with Keira.

*a few hours later*

Lambert: Are you STILL ignoring me? Babe I was kidding-

***

Keira, texting Triss: I’m begging Lambert not to do stupid shit and guess what’s doing?

Triss: Are you surprised?

Keira: No.

Keira: Update: He’s doing more stupid shit.

Keira: And somehow it makes me more attracted to him.

Triss: You say that like that’s not the number one thing you’re attracted to.

***

Keira: What was the most inspiring thing I’ve ever said to you?

Lambert: “Don’t be an idiot.” Changed my life.

***

Lambert: Keira isn’t just some bitch, she’s the bitch I love!

Lambert: And don’t tell her I called her a bitch, or she’ll kill me!

***

Lambert: Babe, do the thing.

Keira: *Glares*

Lambert, breathless: Oh my god.

***

Lambert: Keira, there's something else I've been wanting to say, but before I do, I just. I want you to know you don't have to say it back. I know you're not ready and I don't want you to say it just because social convention dictates-

Keira: I love you, too.

Lambert: You said it.

Keira: Oh please, social convention? Not ready? I'm Keira fucking Metz, and I do what I want!

Lambert: I'm so fucking in love with you.

***

Eskel: Lambert, how do I ask someone out?

Lambert: Well, first, you-

Keira: No, don’t ask him. He asked me out in a Kaer Morhen bathroom.

Eskel: 

Eskel: And you said yes?

***

Eskel: So, Lambert, what'd you get her? Earrings? A little bracelet?

Lambert: No, I got her way more than a piece of jewelry. I got her a gift that really says something - a diamond engagement ring.

Geralt: As a joke?

Lambert: No, you guys, I'm gonna ask Keira to marry me.

Eskel:

Geralt:

Geralt: As a joke?

***

Eskel: Did you guys hear about Lambert's and Keira's engagement?

Ciri: Yeah, isn't it great!

Geralt: For him. She could do better.

***

Keira: Did you tell anybody we’re engaged?

Lambert: Yes, Keira, I have no self-control and I told all of our friends we’re engaged.

Keira: Okay, no need to be sarcastic.

Lambert: No, seriously, I have no self-control and I told all of our friends we’re engaged.

***

*Lambert and Keira’s wedding, during the marriage vows*

Priest: Now, I’m gonna need you to swear--

Lambert: FUCK.

Priest:

Keira:

Keira: Swear as in promise, you idiot!

Lambert: But I’m your idiot *pointing at wedding ring* FOREVER.

***

*At Lambert and Keira’s wedding*

Vesemir, raising a glass: To my new daughter-in-law, I say this:

Vesemir: You have released me. This monster is yours now.

***

Geralt: How was the honeymoon?

Keira: Lambert got drunk and tried to set our marriage certificate on fire while screaming "good luck trying to return me without the receipt".

***

Lambert: I love her.

Lambert: Do you think she knows I exist?

Eskel: Well, you’re married so I’d hope so.

***

Lambert, at 3 AM: I think cheese is better than cake, because you can have cheesecake, but you can't have cakecheese.

Keira:

Keira: I can’t believe I fucking married you.

***

Lambert: What are you doing?

Keira, standing on the chair: I live here, you know. I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much.

Lambert:

Keira:

Lambert: Where's the rat?

Keira: Under the table.

***

Keira, trying to get Lambert into yoga: It's a symbol for rebirth-

Lambert: I'm not interested in being rebirthed, thank you. I'm still recovering from being birthed the first time.

***

Lambert: WHO THE FUCK ATE MY POPTARTS I’M GOING TO KI-

Keira: I did.

Lambert: -kiss you and tell you how much I love you.

*later*

Keira, hugging Lambert and whispering in his ear: Drink my coffee again and we’re fucking done.

***

Keira: Why is your back all scratched up?

Lambert: *flashes back to chasing a raccoon around the house after Keira specifically said to leave it alone*

Lambert: I'm having an affair.

***

Geralt: When Keira’s mad at you, how do you make her not mad?

Lambert: First, I apologize. Then I get her whatever she wants.

Geralt: Even when she’s wrong?

Lambert: She’s never wrong.

***

Keira: Be safe.

Lambert: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

Lambert: … But okay.

***

Keira: I bet I can fit the whole world in my hands!

Lambert: Keira, that's physically impossible.

Keira: *cups his face* Are you sure?

Lambert: * blushing *

Lambert: Stop it  woman, I have a reputation.

*later*

Lambert: 911 I'd like to report a robbery.

Lambert: It's my wife, she stole my heart.

911: Sir, I told you to stop calling this number.

***

Vesemir: No Lambert.

Lambert: Yes Lambert.

Eskel: Lambert no.

Lambert: Lambert yes.

Geralt: Prick NO!

Lambert: Prick YES!

Keira *quietly*: Lambert...

Lambert: Lambert no :<

***

Lambert: Keira is finally coming home from her week long Brotherhood of Sorcerers meeting, so you know what I’m getting tonight,

Lambert: Yelled at. I’m gonna get yelled at.

***

Geralt: My goal for tonight is to get Keira drunk enough to tell us embarrassing stories about Lambert.

Keira: Why would I have to be drunk to do that?

***

Lambert: *returns home in the morning, from the contract, after a long absence.*

Keira, grumpy and half sleepy: Either get out of bed or else take your clothes off. I'm not in the mood to compromise.

***

Lambert: Send dudes.

Keira: You mean nudes?

Lambert: That's later. Now I’m in a fight. I need more men.

***

Lambert, holding a big box: If i came home with a child of surprise what would you do?

Keira: What? Why?

Lambert: ...

Keira: Whats in the box?

Lambert:

Keira: Lambert, what is in the fucking box?!

Lambert: I think you know...

Keira: For the fuck’s sake, you moron, do you keep a child in a box? Take it out before it suffocates!

***

Keira: Our daughter keeps getting letters from boys.

Lambert: What? Why?

Keira: Because she’s charming and beautiful.

Lambert: Trace the sender, end his lineage, salt the earth.

Keira: I’m pretty sure he’s 7.

Lambert: Then it should be easy.

***

Keira, teaching their daughter to dance: So remember, the guy always leads.

Lambert: And if his hand slips any lower than your back, call me. I’ll brake it.

***

Lambert: Well, I want it on the record that if the kid was running a gwent game for money under the bleachers, she didn't necessarily get the idea from me.

***

Kid: Dad if I ask you a boy question, will you promise not to be weird?

Lambert: I promise.

Kid: So, there’s this boy-

Lambert: You can do better.

***

Keira: Remember, kid: the only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down.

***

Keira, about their daughter: She can't go in the water this weekend, she's got an ear infection. So no swimming.

Kid: Awwwww, Mom...

Lambert: No, it's OK, princess, we'll have a great weekend. We can go to Disneyland, we can play gwent, go sword fighting, horse riding, whatever you want.

Keira: Lambert, relax. You're starting to sound like a tampon commercial.

***

Lambert: We can't go out tonight. We're getting up early to go to Disneyland.

Keira: "We"?

Lambert: Yeah. I thought maybe you'd want to come with us.

Keira: Lambert, I'm terrified about having one small rodent in my house. Why would I drive 50 miles to see their kingdom?

Here is Part 2

[vikingsagine]

The Aftermath - The Shield-Maiden’s Wrath: BONUS CHAPTER - (Bjorn x Reader)

Summary: Bjorn learns something new. He should have never fucked you over.

Yes, sorry. But they did end up fucking, haha. Sorry if you don’t like it. If you don’t like how it end, I’m open to other ideas. How would you get Bjorn to respect women?

Warnings - Swearing and yep. REVENGEEE!

Part One

 Part Two - where the shit goes down.

ENJOY!! Coz I did!! *muahahaha*

@soleil-dor​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @abonelessgod​ @sadbutatleastsassy​ @heavenly1927​

No, you did not leave Bjorn.

No, you did not forgive him.

No, you didn't hate him.

Instead you stayed.

But, not in the way you think.

“Where are you going?” Bjorn hummed and pulled you closer to his body. His fingers tracing over your beautiful and prominent stomach, eyes lighting up like Christmas lights. His child, his baby, his son or daughter. For some reason, he didn’t mind that much. “Stay a little longer, I know you want to.” Bjorn buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips leaving light kisses. It felt good, nice, pleasant but not right.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” You hummed and tore yourself from his grasp, finally standing from the fur of your bed and pulled the sheets of clothes over your form. Dignity and honor and self-righteousness, that is what you promised yourself from the start.  

“What are you talking about? Of course I did.” Peering over your shoulder, you ogled the great build of your husband. Piercing blue orbs that mirrored the endless possibilities of what he wanted, what he yearned for, what was good for him. “Did you?” 

“Yes I did.” That is the truth. Every time Bjorn touched you it was like entering the gates of Valhalla itself, not because it was the dreamed place. Because it was where you belonged. Full of endless nights of fighting, the familiar burn and call of war, drums beating to the sway of your weapon. It was exhilarating. “But, we are not finished.” Bjorn watched as you stood up and began to dress in a blue silk dress, shimmying down your body. 

��Of course we aren’t.” He is annoyed, thinking that the issue of him cheating on you was over. He sucked you into bed with him like always. Managed to win you back. Earned your forgiveness once again. He didn’t understand. “Why must you always make a big deal out of nothing?” Bjorn heaved up and pulled his trousers on. Waiting for you to turn around and glare at him, you did not. 

“Oh my love, I am a woman and you are a man.” You opened the chest that held both his and your clothes, yanking each one of his clothes out into the open. “You really think I forgive you for betraying me?” You turned around and he finally saw it. Nothing like he had seen before. It wasn’t that fire, that passion like last night, it wasn’t even anger. It was something deeper. Stronger. He opened his mouth to say something but you were quick to intervene, pressed your finger to his lips and pushed him on the bed. “I love you, that is why I married you.”

“Then why are you-”

“You broke my trust.” A press of your finger. “You broke my respect.” Poke in the chest. “You broke my heart.” 

That’s was it was, pain. He could see the hurricane of your mixed emotions behind your glowing eyes, delicate acid that tortured his being. Bjorn gulped, knowing very well there was nothing he could do. Nothing. 

“When I accepted your proposal, I told you I would never leave your side and I won’t. When I found out I was with child, I promised that it was yours and it is. When I told you I loved you, I meant it wholeheartedly.” Not once did your voice crack or your face drop, it was cold and solid. 

“But when I said, if you ever hurt me in any way, I would hurt you a hundred times more.” You pulled back from his solid form, maintaining eye contact, you ripped the necklace from your chest and threw it in the mess of clothes.

 “So, I do hope you enjoyed last night because it will be the last time you ever get to lay your filthy, disloyal and treacherous fingers on my body.” Bjorn reached out, you hissed and he stopped. “I’m not finished.” You walked back and picked up his sword, through it with the pile of his things. 

“I will continue to be your wife for the sake of our child and if you choose to find another lover, by all means go ahead. But in doing so, it will prove to me what a little man you really are.” His furs, thrown.

 “No honor.” 

The jewelry he gave you in declaration of his love, discarded. 

“No respect.” 

Little bits and bobs that were all him, in the pile. 

“No dignity.”

 Stopping in front of the door, you leaned against it and gave him a stare that you gave when ordering men. A master to its dog. “Just a horny boy that can’t control his primal urges.” You swung the door open. 

“I am a shield-maiden, a warrior and a woman. Now I suggest you pick your things up, take them with you and get the fuck out of my face.” Bjorn’s jaw dropped in a complete daze, unknowing. He knew you could be cold, merciless and even heartless. But never understood truly, until now. 

The Bjorn Ironside, for the first time in his life realized-

“You bark and I bite.”

- he fucked up, bad.

~~~

“Where is Bjorn?” Ubbe inquired, noticing his older brother’s absence. You wore a smug smile, biting away happily at your meal. Too joyous. Sigurd and Hvitserk glanced towards each other, picking up on your behavior. “Well?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You turned, realizing that they were looking at you expectantly. It seemed your dear husband has yet told them or anyone. Part of you was worried where he was, the other, not so much. They were still peering at you expectantly. “I kicked him out of the house.”

“Come again.” Hvitserk snapped, checking to see if he had hear you correctly. All four boys were completely stunned at your news, not knowing how to answer or to react. 

“I. Kicked. Bjorn. Out.” You mouthed each word loud and clear.

“But-” Hvitserk was cut off by Ivar.

“This is his home, how did you-”

“I don’t believe you.” Sigurd slammed his hands on the table in disbelief. Never ever has he met a woman or known a woman to be so, so, so, so. He didn’t even have words to describe you. 

“Oh yes, it’s very true. I told him to take his things and leave.” You brushed your fingers over the ends of your skirt and watched all their expressions in amusement. 

“There was no noise.” The oldest of the younger four frowned and scrunched his eyebrows up. It made no sense. He was sure, he would have known of this...this...news. There was no noise this morning, Ubbe thought. There was a loud snapping sound but that was the craftsmen. Maybe it was that whizzing noise, no, they don’t do that. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“But you don’t do that.” Ivar growled and dropped the food on his plate. How could he not see it? “You’re suppose to be all over each other, maybe not even come out of your bed chambers until tomorrow or the day after. This is all wrong. I don’t believe you either.” You sighed deeply and sunk back in your chair.

“I don’t expect you to understand but I’ll say it like this.” You gave each and every one them a stern look. “I do not like to be played with.” Hvitserk gulped and spooned his food into his mouth. “And learn from your brother’s mistakes and treat a woman with great respect and love her everyday and if you don’t, well, if I find out. You have been warned.” 

“What about the baby?” Sigurd motioned towards your stomach and the rest all nodded their heads. 

“A baby does not mean he owns me.” You growled, your tolerance of their behavior wearing thin. “Besides, he can still see the child. If I could give this fat stomach over to him and have Bjorn bear this, I would. Now, would you please just let me eat in peace.” Each in their own way they apologized and continued with their meal.

Yes, you were deeply in love with Bjorn. You still considered him the most fearsome warrior and you would pick up a sword to fight by his side in the blink of an eye. There was this undying care and adoration you had for him and his brother’s, his family. You still would die in his name, for the honor of your people. But having that said, you chose yourself first. 

You choose yourself.

“So,” Hvitserk broke the tense silence. “Does that mean you’ll marry me now?” 

~~~

>sorry I just had to add them in<

“...come again...” “....Um, what?..”

*no words*

“...huh...” 

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Fever Dreams

So here’s my first Uhtred x Reader fix. I hope you guys enjoy it. My requests are still open so if any of you have some story ideas let me know. 😊

Pairings: Uhtred x Reader

Prompt: fever dreams

Warnings: smut, swearing

Your Lord was sick. He was very sick. Ever since he had met Skade his strength had dwindled. He was no longer Uhtred of Bebbanburg, the Dane Slayer, the infamous warrior. He was weak and he was dying. You had been travelling for a while when Uhtred suddenly collapsed, falling from his horse into the snow. You and Finan had rushed to his aid in a attempt to get him back onto his horse but it was no use. That was how you ended up here. Sat in the woods, huddled around a fire, waiting for Uhtred to pass into the next life. “He is not longed for this world.” Osferth said, returning from where he had been trying to feed Uhtred some broth. “He is no longer himself. He sees things.” “He sees someone.” Skade interrupted, from where she was sat tied up by a tree. “Who the hell gave you permission to speak.” You stood up, a marching angrily towards her drawing your sword. “If it wasn’t for you none of this would have happened. I should kill you now and be done with it!” You lunged are her but someone caught your arm, pulling you round towards them. “Let me go.” You snarled. “(Y/n) I can’t let ya do this. You know what the curse says. Ya can’t kill her like this, not now. What happens if she is the only reason Uhtred is still alive? What then? Your not going to sacrifice him like that. I know ya won’t.” “I wouldn’t be so sure.” I said, lunging toward Skade again but Finan once again held you back. “I know ya hurting (y/n) alright. Ya love him I understand but I won’t let you do this.” You froze as soon as he mentioned love. Yes you loved Uhtred with all your heart but you would never admit your feelings for him. He was a warrior and he had been with many women whilst you knew him. Not once were you one of those women. He never saw you like that. You were just like any other member of the group. One of the lads. You were never going to be a lady to any of them and so you excepted this. But it hurt. A lot. As a young girl you had the dream all young women have, that one day you would find the man of your dreams and settle down and have a family. This was not your path. When your village was massacred by Danes you went to Winchester for safety that’s were you met Uhtred and his men. You begged them to let you join them, saying you wanted to learn how to defend yourself. After that you fought many battles with them and fell deeper in love each day with their fearsome leader. Which is how you ended up in your current situation freezing in the woods waiting for the man you loved to die because of some witch. Finan steered you back towards the campfire, seating you between Osferth and himself. “Come on (y/n), have a drink.” Finan said, handing you a cup of ale. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

A few hours passed in comfortable silence around the fire, when Uhtred began to stir. You were the first to hear him, sitting bolt upright and staring across the clearing. “Uhtred,” you whispered, rising from your seat to sit by his side.You took his hand into ours. It was cold and clammy, sweat beading on his forehead. “(Y/n),” he grumbled, looking at you through half closed eyes. “It’s alright Uhtred. I’m here. I’ve got you.” “Don’t go (y/n).” He struggled against the furs he was under. “NO DON’T TAKE HER. NO STOP PLEASE (Y/N)!” He screamed. “Uhtred please,” you whimpered. Finan and the others had joined you now. “(Y/n) what’s happening?” Finan asked, concern evident on his face. “I don’t know it’s like he isn’t here.” “He’s having a fever dream,” Sihtric said, “I’ve seen many warriors suffer from it. The fever burns them out and they begin to hallucinate. What he’s seeing isn’t real, but it is to him.” “How do we stop it?” Osferth chimed in. “You can’t. You just have to wait.” You sighed, defeated. Uhtred began to stir again. “Please don’t hurt her. I love her. Take me not her. Please not (y/n). Not her.” Everyone turned towards you. “Did I hear that right?” Finan asked, confused. “He loves her.” Osferth repeated. “He loves you (y/n).” “No he doesn’t. He can’t. Not me. It’s never me.” You stood up, defiantly. “Don’t repeat what you’ve just heard. Like Sihtric said it’s a fever dream it’s not real.” “(Y/n)!” Finan called to you but you had already made your way back to your tent. Butterflies danced in your stomach as you were filled with hope that what he said was true. Did he really love you?

Within a few weeks Uhtred was back to his normal self, seeming completely unaware of what he had said while he was sick. He treated you like he always did, joking with you like he did with the rest of his men. It was what you were used to and yet it broke your heart even more. That night had given you a small glimmer of hope and yet life had snatched it away from you. Your friends knew this and tried to cheer you up as much as they could, up to their normal antics. You no longer cared for their games though and spent much of the time by yourself down by the river. It was peaceful there. The clear water lapping rhythmically at the bank, in time with your heart beat. You stayed there every day for, dawn til dusk before you headed back to your home. Uhtred had noticed this change in you and mentioned it to Finan one evening. Finan, knowing that you couldn’t stand much more heartache, played ignorant to the situation and Uhtred dropped the subject. Until a few days later when you were bathing down at the river. You had gotten up early and gone down to your usual spot by the river. No one would be around at this time so you stripped off your clothes, leaving them on the bank before climbing into the cool water. Although freezing, swimming in the river made you feel alive, it brightened your spirit and you loved it. Plunging your head under the water, you come up taking a deep breath and pushing your blonde hair out of your eyes. When you opened them, to your horror, you come face to face with Uhtred.

“Good morning (y/n),” Uhtred smiles at you cheerfully. He was sat on the low hanging tree across the river, legs swinging. “Uhtred... I... what are you...” you fumble for your words trying to cover yourself with your hands. “I just thought you might want some company.” He winked at you cheekily. You sighed, “Uhtred please just leave me alone. I’m trying to bathe.” You turned away from him going back to washing yourself. “I know. I also know that you have been avoiding me like the plague and as this is where you’ve been spending most of your time I thought I’d come and see you.” “Uhtred...” “What’s wrong (y/n)? Why are you avoiding me? What did I do wrong?” “Nothing you didn’t do anything wrong. Just… just go Uhtred. Leave me.” There was silence behind you for a moment before you heard the rustle of clothes. You could hear gentle splash of water. You didn’t dare look round. You couldn’t. You couldn’t face him. “(Y/n) please,” his voice was soft and comforting, something you usually sort. “Hey look at me.” Soft hands caressed your shoulders and you sighed, enjoying his touch. “Please,” he begged, taking a few deep breaths you turned round to face him. “Your so beautiful.” He smiled, gently running a wet thumb over your cheek. You closed your eyes, savouring the moment. His fingers began to run down your neck, dancing along your collar bone. “Uhtred,” you whimpered. “Don’t resist it (y/n) I know how much you want this. I want this too.”He smiled at you then. “I want you.” That was the last straw. You grabbed him, looping your arms around his neck, pulling at his hair. His strong hands found their way to your waist, lifting you up so you could wrap you legs around his toned, muscular body. “I love you (y/n),” Uhtred whispered. He looked vulnerable for the first time since you had met him. Stroking his cheek lovingly you put your lips next to his ear, causing him to shiver.“I love you too.” After that it became a frenzy of hands and kisses. Before you knew it you were led on the bank, your cloak underneath you and Uhtred on top of you. This had happened in all your fantasies but you still couldn’t believe this was happening. Uhtred wanted you. You wanted Uhtred. “Uhtred please,” you begged as he began kissing down your neck, nipping at your ear lobe. “Please.” You began grinding your hips against his, trying to create some friction.

He groaned like a wild animal, biting down harshly on your neck. “Don’t tease me (y/n). I don’t know wether I can control myself for much longer.” He whispered, looking at you with eyes full of love.“Oh Uhtred I don’t want you to control yourself. I want you buried deep inside me. Filling me with your seed.” Uhtred need not be told twice, he gripped your hips harshly, pulling you further underneath him. His finger slipped between your legs.“God your already so wet for me love.” He praised. He began pumping his finger inside you, creating friction. You moaned softly as he added another finger, stretching you. “Uhtred. Uhtred please...” you begged. “Please what (y/n) I need you to say it.” He grinned up at you. “I...I...oh... I...shit.” You sighed, unable to form a sentence. “Tell me what you need.” “Fuck me! Fuck me Uhtred!” You all but screamed. “That’s my girl.” Uhtred praised, kissing down your neck. He lined himself up to you, gripping his thick cock between his fingers. “This might sting a little.” He warned, “ if you want me to stop just tell me ok?” “Ok.” You nodded, to say you were nervous was an understatement but you had wanted this for so long you weren’t about to pull away now. Uhtred gave you a tender kiss as he pushed into you. His cock stretched you, causing you to wince. A single tear ran down your cheek. Once he was completely inside you he stopped. “(Y/n) are you ok?” Uhtred asked, concern evident on his face. “I’m ok just... just give me a second.” Uhtred hovered over you, placing gentle kisses along your collar bone. You could feel a tingling sensation in your stomach and you felt restless. “Uhtred please...please move.” At that Uhtred pulled out of you before pushing back into you slowly. The pace was excruciating but he soon picked it up and was slamming into you. Panting and moaning surrounded you, as the coil in your abdomen began to tighten. You scrapped your nails down Uhtred’s hard, muscular back. Groaning, Uhtred bit down on your neck sending shock waves through your body. “Ah...ah...Uhtred.” You whimpered, his pace relentless. You were panting, gasping as you gripped hold of his shoulders trying to anchor yourself. You felt Uhtred’s hand drift from your hips down your thigh before reaching between your legs. He pressed firmly at your bundle of nerves and you shouted his name. “Gods yes (y/n)” Uhtred continued to pound into you. He lifted one of your legs up over his shoulder so he could reach a different angle. “I can’t hold on much longer.” You cried. “It’s alright my love. You can let go. Let go for me (y/n).” With that the coil unravelled and you came shouting his name. After a few more thrusts Uhtred came with a roar, spilling his seed inside of you. You lay on the bank, trying to catch your breath. Uhtred kissed you softly, before pulling out. You could feel his seed running down your leg and were left feeling empty without him. “Gods (y/n) that was... it was...” “Amazing.” You breathed. “...something else.” He finished, “I’ve never been with a women like that before.” You looked at him puzzled. “Your not a v...” “No I’m not a virgin.” He laughed. “No I mean I’ve never been with someone like you. You are perfect (y/n). I don’t know why it took so long for me to admit it but you are.” He pulled you close to him, kissing you. “Well if I’m so perfect.” You grinned, biting your lip. “Then what would you say to round 2?” Uhtred grinned, “it’s like you read my mind.” He pulled you in for another passionate kiss and it was at that point you knew you weren’t getting any sleep that night.

Tags: @sihtric @beowulfsdottir @maggiescarborough @rileybots @finantheagile @bonaofsavoy @geekandbooknerd @lauwrite1225

[let-it-raines]

I’ve been in such a Neverland/3a kinda mood with fic reading lately, so I figured I’d send my fave CS fic writer a prompt! Or not really a prompt... I’m giving you free reign of everything, I just want to read something from you set in that time period ❤️

@dorisquinn you flatter me so because I am the worst at writing canon and/or canon divergence, but I figured why not? I 100% went down the road of neverland smut because, well, I’ve never done that before, and I feel like that’s a right of passage here. lol. If you want something different, shoot me a message and I’ll try to figure something else out! 💕 

thanks to @shireness-says for making me sprint so that I actually wrote for once

found on ao3 | here | 

-/-

She’s quiet tonight, but really, he would never expect otherwise, especially after everything that’s managed to transpire today.

Rarely is Emma Swan a woman of many words, but now? Now when they are in the most dreaded place in all of the realms, at least to him, and she is constantly working to try to save her boy? Now she is more silent and pensive than ever, but the fire behind her emerald eyes burns just as brightly as always.

As someone often on the receiving end of her rage, he knows that look and that flame better than most.

He knows that look because he feels it too.

Or, well, he felt it, long ago, and on occasion, sparks flicker back to life, the fire igniting and burning so brightly that he thinks the inferno will begin again with no chance of being extinguished.

Yet, as he sits with his back against a hardened tree and watches Emma ignore her parents fervently talking, he knows that what he feels is not the same.

He knows that he does not have a child, no matter how much he felt like Bae was his, and while his loss stings far more than Killian is willing to admit to himself, it is not the same. It is not Emma missing Henry, constantly worried over his well-being as she keeps their little group from killing each other, and while he is not particularly fond of any of their partners in this adventure, at least he is not counting on a woman he despises and parents who blatantly do not understand him to save the one person in the world who matters most to him.

Oh, and a dastardly pirate who not a soul trusts even though his intentions are good. He swears of it, but it has been a long damn time since someone believed in him like that.

The Charmings do not seem to find him capable of living up to their namesake, but he can’t blame them. His first impression was not one he would call particularly good.

Lies, deceit, violence and the works, but he was in a different mindset then. He didn’t know these people, didn’t have any inkling as to who they were, and he had an end goal in mind that he would have done anything to accomplish.

Still would, most likely, but there’s decidedly something different now. When he wakes up, his first thought is not of vengeance. Those thoughts creep in often, but they are not everything.

He’s been given a reminder that he might be capable of more than the evil he’s been for longer than he’d care to admit.

Killian has done horrible things, has ruined lives, and he won’t pretend he has not. If Snow White can forgive the woman who ruined her life in more ways than one can count despite the Queen showing little remorse, maybe Killian can be worthy of the same kind of forgiveness.

Though, he cares little for the forgiveness of Snow or trying to get on her good side.

But he is here and helping to save Emma’s lad, and he knows this devilish island better than anyone else here.

Well, the Crocodile is wandering around here somewhere and tends to know more than he should, but Killian prefers to think of him as little as possible lest he get caught up thinking of his own vengeance and not the goal here.

Henry.

Bae’s son, which Killian still can’t quite believe.

Emma’s son.

That’s why he’s here. That is all, even if David keeps telling Killian that he is only here to seduce Emma. Killian chuckles to himself. That might be nice, but that is not his goal.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be out of any trickery or misdeeds.

If he is to win her heart, it will not be dishonestly. That hasn’t been important to him in centuries, but there she goes again, reminding him of things he has forgotten.

There’s a rustle of leaves, and Killian stops sketching words into the dirt with his hook and prepares himself for battle with one of the Lost Boys before realizing that it’s simply Emma standing from her spot.

And walking toward him.

Well, maybe he’ll be preparing for a battle of another kind then.

She settles down next to him, the tree’s width large enough for them both to have a place to rest their backs, and he can feel the heat of her skin flicker across his as her hand accidentally brushes against his own. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t explain her presence, and he silently reaches for his flask and hands it over to her. She takes it and then downs a healthy amount of rum. His preferred kind is strong, likes to burn down his throat despite his tolerance, and there’s a part of him that is always impressed by how easily Emma can handle it.

As those words flicker through his mind, he’s immediately brought back to earlier today, to his taunting and teasing. All he wanted to do was get a rise out of her. It’s simply so bloody fun to see her nose scrunch and her eyes roll, and while he’s wanted to kiss Emma for weeks now, to feel how soft her pretty pink lips are, he was not expecting her to take him up on his offer.

Then again, Emma is always surprising him.

The way she grabbed his coat and pulled him to her sent heat to his groin almost immediately, and there was a hunger in her kiss that he felt in his own. It’s been decades since he felt a fire like that deep in his belly, and Killian was reminded of just how much he likes when a woman takes charge of her own desires.

(Another reminder, another reminder, another reminder.)

He simply did not expect for his desires to turn into a want that he’s dared not hope for again.

It was a reminder that he didn’t want, that good things could happen to him, but he knows who he is to this woman and these people. He’s an outsider, and if David’s words earlier weren’t clear enough, he is not welcome amongst them.

And yet, here is this fierce woman who has been like a siren to him, calling him back when he wants to stray, sitting so close to him that her thigh keeps brushing against his own.

The jungle is quiet tonight outside of their camp. He hears no birds or other creatures, only the crackle of the fire and the words being shared between Charming and Snow White. They’ve been huddled close together ever since Snow was informed of her husband’s condition, and while it is obnoxious to have to view, Killian so wishes he’d had time like that with Liam. It’s not a happy future for the two of them, especially having to be separated from their daughter and grandson should they chose to stay here to be together, but it is a future.

There is a possibility of one, and that’s more than most people get.

It’s more than he got.  

The Queen is hidden behind a tree across camp, avoiding everyone, and truly, it should be the other way around. He’s no saint, but that woman ruined this family. He understands that a young Snow shared a secret that had horrible consequences, and while Regina was certainly a victim there, she is not one now. At least when it comes to this family. Her son is in trouble, but no one in this camp is at fault for that.

He needs to get off this damn island. It’s giving him too much time to think about people he should not be giving a second thought to.

“How does this rum never run out?” Emma suddenly asks.

She hands him the flask back, and he takes his own sip. “It’s enchanted.” “How’d you manage that?”

“I’ve gotten around.” Emma snickers, and he arches his brow. “Something funny, Swan?”

“Nope. Nothing at all.”

Killian hums and tucks the flask back into his pocket. “I’m aware of what the phrase ‘getting around’ means, love. I was in your world long enough to pick up on a few things.”

“Of course you would pick up on innuendos.”

He winks, and there’s that eye roll he so fancies. “I do my best to make sure I’m well versed in things that I need to be well versed in. Makes life easier.”

“Innuendos make your life easier?”

“When it comes to beautiful women such as you, aye.”

“Do you always flirt to get what you want?” “Why, darling, are you admitting that I’m flirting with you? Are you going to return my affections?”

She kicks at the dirt and turns away from him.

Push and pull.

Push harder. Pull further away.

That’s Emma.

“No matter,” Killian continues, waving his hand in the air in front of them. “Did you come to sit with me for any particular reason? Perhaps to get away from your parents?”

She groans next to him. “I can’t listen to it anymore. I mean, I can’t imagine how they feel, but I – you know what, never mind.”

“Pan got your tongue?”

His lips curl up at the same time that hers pull down into a frown. She is obviously not amused by him tonight.

“My apologies, milady,” he sighs before standing from his spot. The leaves rustle underneath him, but no one from the other side of the camp notices his movement. They’re all too wrapped up in their own lives.

Emma cranes her neck up to look at him, and he’s never seen someone so swan-like. She lives up to her name, but with Emma, he thinks it must be the other way around.

“Are you going somewhere?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I, too, would like to have some time away from the doting lovers and the moaning queen, so I thought I’d take a walk. I know this area well enough to know that we’re near the beach. Would you like to join me?”

Her eyes narrow and dart over to her parents and then back to him. “Is that safe?”

Killian pats his sword with his hook. “I’ve got weapons, as do you. I think we’ll be fine. C’mon, love. I know you need to have your mind taken off of things. This island will drive you insane if you don’t find something that calms you.”

Emma’s shoulders sag before she stands and steps up to him. “What was that for you?”

He swaggers closer, the magnetic field around her always pulling him those few inches forward, and then dips his head so she has a direct view of his wink. “A man likes to keep his secrets, love, but if you play your cards right, I might let you in on it.”

“Can’t you ever be straightforward about anything?”

“I find that I’m straightforward about many things. You simply never pay attention because it’s not what you want to hear.”

Killian doesn’t bother to wait for her reaction. Instead, he turns on his feels, grabs a lit lantern, and starts heading down the path they made earlier to make his way to the beach. He can hear the ocean waves already. It’s a sound that usually calms him, one that he’s nearly always searching for, but here, the echo is different. It’s loud and brash even when the waves are gentle, and he aches for the sound of the waves in the Enchanted Forest or even those of the ones in Storybrooke.

Anything other than this.

Anything.

Emma’s boots crunch behind him, and he lifts an overgrown branch until she steps underneath it and begins walking at his side. A part of him doubted that she would actually follow, but deep down, he knew the odds were more in his favor than disfavor. She’s silent as they walk, but occasionally her hand will brush against his arm, and he feels the heat of her touch spread over him.

There are no truly nefarious plans in his mind as to what they are to do on the beach once they get there, and he wouldn’t be opposed to simply watching the moonlight glint off the water. However, he knows what he was implying when he suggested them leaving the campsite, and he knows that Emma does, too.

A one-time thing, she’d said. Emma may possess a superpower for telling when others are lying, but she’s not the only one who is good at reading people.

The beach comes into view past a few vines and bushes, and Killian slashes through them with his sword before putting it back in its holster and stepping over the newly slain foliage. Emma steps behind him, following exactly in his footsteps, and then all of the sudden the sound of footsteps stop when they step onto the sand.

That was the one good thing about these beaches. It’s soft sand instead of hard pebbles.

There’s a scratch of nails down his back, a faint feeling through the thick material of his leather, and Killian twists his head to see Emma standing so close that he can see all of the freckles on her face, counting them one by one until he knows them as he knows the constellations in the sky.

He’s rather more interested in them than the constellations here.

“You were saying something about getting my mind off things?”

Killian nods and reaches his hand up to tuck her loose hair behind her ear, and his fingers ghost across her cheek, feeling the soft, velvet skin. He’s seen many a beautiful woman in his few hundred years, but there’s something different about this one that he believes might not be physical after all.

Though, she certainly is beautiful in that way.

“Aye, love, I believe I was.”

And then he dips his head and slants his mouth over hers. The initial shock is much the same as it was earlier today, but this time, it’s his turn to take charge. He gets to thread his hand into her hair first and pull her into him before she can grab onto the lapels of his coat, and he gets to control the pace. It’s fast and heady, her tongue already swiping across his bottom lip, and while he wouldn’t mind slowing it down to savor the feeling of her, that’s not what either of them need.

That’s especially not what Emma needs.

It’s been awhile since he’s done this, his taste for bar wenches fading away a long time ago, but the movements haven’t been lost on him. The push and pull, the teasing and tasting, it’s all second nature, but right now, it feels new.

Everything about this is refreshing, but he has to push those thoughts down. He’s had too many sentimental ones about Emma today, too many realizations and questions since their dalliance, and this isn’t a time to think of him yet again not getting something he craves because he isn’t good enough. This is the time to let his body take over and to forget.

That’s why they came here after all.

Emma’s hands tug on his lapels before moving to the inside of his jacket. She runs them over his chest and over the chains hanging from his neck before they settle on his shoulders. He can feel her nails much more clearly with only the thin layer of his shirt keeping her from his skin, and his eyes shut even more tightly at the feel of it all as his tongue tangles with Emma’s in slide so perfectly in sync that he doesn’t believe it’s real.

This is real, this is real, this is real.

“You tell no one of this,” Emma grunts against his lips as she works to remove his coat from his shoulders.

“Aye, I understand.” His hook tugs against her backside, and he releases his hand from her locks to help her take off his coat. It’s heavier than he would like, but it’s what he’s needed to keep warm in ports and on the deck of the Jolly over the years. Now, it will be a nice barrier between the two of them in the sand. “It will be a private dalliance between us.”

“Do you always have to talk like that?” “Like what?”

“Like you’re from a Jane Austen novel?”

“What’s that?”

That gets a smile from Emma, and maybe he’ll be destined to only make her smile when she’s teasing or feeling superior over him not knowing something about her world. For now, he’ll take it.

“She’s a writer. She writes romance.”

“Oh? You read those? I didn’t take you for the type.”

“Shut up,” she groans, pushing him down until he gets the idea and settles down on the ground. Emma sinks down onto her knees and settles on his hips before she dips her head and rejoins her lips to his. “Just be quiet, okay?”

“As you wish.”

Her mouth stills at the words, the same ones he used earlier, but then she’s continuing the kiss, and Killian can feel her over every inch of her. His skin is prickling and beginning to become sweat-soaked once more, but now that he’s without his coat, he can feel the cool breeze of the ocean wafting up onto his skin. He doesn’t know how long they lay in the sand with their mouths moving together with no destination in mind until he feels Emma’s hands near his trousers. She’s pulling apart the laces, and as her mouth breaks away for her to get more access to it, he takes the opportunity to pull at her blouse with his hook. She gasps at the touch, but she doesn’t push him away. Her skin is sun-kissed and glistening with sweat, and her chest is heaving, heart obviously beating as quickly as his is. He swears that he can feel it, but he knows that’s not true.

She’s glowing underneath the moonlight and the flickering of the lantern, and this may be the first time he’s been truly fond of the moon here in a lifetime.

There he goes thinking those thoughts again, and he swore to himself that he would not do that.

Ever tried, ever failed.

Finally, he gets her blouse down enough that he can see the roundness of her breast, and Killian groans at the sight. He’s spent more nights than he’s willing to admit dreaming about something like this, but the reality is much better.

Bloody hell.

Her hand brushes over him through his leathers, and he hisses. But the pain is good, a pleasant burn, and Killian lifts himself to lick away sweat that is gather on Emma’s collarbone. Her skin is salty on his tongue, and he savors it.

“Why the hell are your pants so frustrating?”

“I believe it takes a more patient hand.”

“I don’t have any time for patience,” she huffs, and he notices that her hands are shaking and that she really is struggling to get his leathers down. Killian takes the opportunity to lift his hips to help her, and she finally gets them tugged down, smiling as his cock juts out.

Well, maybe that’s another way he can get an elusive smile out of her.

“Aha,” she laughs, almost giddily.

“I don’t believe that’s a reaction I’ve ever had before.”

She shrugs and starts working with her own bottoms. She handles them much better than she handled his, the zipper easily tugging down and the material peeled off of her so that he can see the toned legs she possesses, all of her muscles defined.

Beautiful.

His mind simply can’t get past that.

“Yeah, well, I’m always one for new things.”

Emma kicks her trousers off until they’re resting on the sand, and she settles back on top of his hips, her softness brushing over his hardness. She’s more ready than he thought she would be, but he’s certainly not going to complain, not when he so desperately needs to be inside of her. Maybe if he’s allowed to do this again, which he doubts, he’ll be able to take the time he usually would with someone like her.

Someone who is more than a conquest.

Someone who should be treasured.

“Really, now?” he questions. “In that case – ”

She slaps his chest, and he grabs onto her hand, holding it to his chest as he chuckles.

“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”

“Aye, and while I do so love a woman who takes charge, you have to let a man have a little fun.”

Her groan is frustrated as she tilts his head back, making her neck swan-like again, and all he can think is how much he wants to bite the delicate skin. But that thought is quickly dissipated when Emma takes him in hand, stroking him a few times, before guiding him into her.

Bloody fuck.

It’s better than he could ever imagine to feel her warmth stretching around him and to hear the groan straining in the back of her throat. She’s a vision like this, still half-dressed but entirely indecent, and he almost tells her so before her hands clutch at his shoulders and grab onto the chains around his neck. They’re the only cool thing about this moment, the Neverland heat and heat of their activities consuming him, and it’s a nice touch to feel the mementos he’s collected over the years.

He wishes that he had a way to collect this moment.

“Fuck,” she hisses as she begins a gentle rocking, adjusting a testing out this new position they’re now in. “Fuck.”

“At a loss for words there, Swan?” “Don’t be cocky.”

He juts his hips up at her words, and she moans, and digs her nails into his skin so hard he may bleed.

“Apologies, love,” he says, not meaning it.

In fact, he can’t keep the smile off his face. He’s sure she despises it, but Killian doesn’t care to stop himself when he hasn’t felt this good in ages.

But they’re doing this to forget, he reminds himself, not to remember.

They quickly find a rhythm that works for the both of them. Emma takes control, like he knew she would, and continually changes up how deep he enters her over and over again. It’s like she can’t figure out if she wants shallow or deep, fast or slow, and eventually he tires of it and wraps his arms around her to flip them over, careful not to hurt her with his hook. She gasps at the movement and opens her mouth to say something, but then he’s pushing into her as his mouth deliciously slants over hers.

Emma hooks her foot against his backside, pushing him further inside of her, and he can feel his heart between his ears as he finds the pace that he wants. Her nails keep scratching into his back, and Killian groans before trailing his mouth away from Emma’s to find her ear. He begins whispering to her, working around her rule of him not being loud, and when she complains, he tells her that he’s very much being quiet. Besides, he thinks that words he whispers to her keep her from protesting anymore.

He’s getting close, his high nearing the edge, and he props himself up on his left arm so he can reach between them and rub his thumb over where they’re joined. Emma lets out a long moan that he hasn’t heard before, and then he feels her fluttering, feels her falling around him.

Fuck.

The feeling nearly causes him to fall right there, but he has enough mind to pull out and take himself in hand to finish himself off since he doesn’t believe Emma has any of the potions that prevent pregnancy with her.

This was never really in either of their plans.

Going off of plan is quite possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to him on this damned island.

He’s almost there, teetering on the edge with shaky limbs, and as soon as he feels Emma’s soft hands on him, he’s gone.

Afterward, they don’t spend time lingering on the sand. Before they can catch their breaths, Emma is standing and straightening herself up, tugging her clothes down and back on, and he does the same. Though, he’s much slower than her, partially due to his hand but mostly due to the fact that he doesn’t seem to be fighting the internal war Emma is.

He knows that he just slept with a woman he fancies from time to time, while she just slept with a man she most likely still finds despicable despite them getting along rather well lately.

Nothing like a crisis to bond people.

“Thanks for that,” she finally mutters as she twists her locks back to remove them from her face. She’s flushed, the heat still lingering, and he can see the slightest bit of redness on her chest from where his beard rubbed against her. “It was…”

“Bloody satisfying.”

“Yeah,” she huffs, her lips turning up even as she looks away from him. “But also, a one-time thing. I mean that this time. Today has been complicated.”

“Aye, Swan,” Killian sighs, “whatever you say.”

He’ll respect her wishes with no hesitation, but like he thought earlier, Emma isn’t the only one who knows when someone is telling a lie.

[aurora-teez]

|Chapter 2| Utopia ~An Ateez Fanfic Story~

I know that some would say why would a Women be training others in Combat and Navigation? Well, for one thing...I am the daughter of a Pirate. Yes, My father disappeared and was later wanted for Piracy by the French after Pirates evolved into the cruel nature some of them are. Yet, he taught me the ways and mysteries of the Sea, how to sail, lead,fight for me... to be a captain. As a descendant of a Noble, I was given the opportunity to become an official for the Royal Defense Guard. I was trained by the King himself as his respected my father despite him being a Pirate. I became the best fighter in the Kingdom, Sailor and Now I am head of the defense training program as well. I train Violet and other men and women. It makes me so happy to help others- to make them strong by helping them discover the best parts of themselves. Before my mother died, she told me that she planned for the Navy to build a ship for me for anything. I can remember her voice saying...

“My precious Emerald, a ship will be built for you. You may be a Noble now but do not forget where you came from and who you are- A Pirate at heart, Sailor of the Sea. Being a Pirate may be dangerous but you never know what you can discover.”

After putting on my training uniform, I run down to the training grounds near the  shoreline. The King wanted us to practice near the Ocean for us to feel a connection to Sea as he loves the water and hopes all can explore it one day. Walking into the grounds, I see all 10 of my students all in uniform, prepared with Swords, shiny and sharpened. Violet is one of my best trainees. She is mostly a Navigation Trainee. Each student has a specific aspect that they focus on but all must be prepared to defend themselves. I mean, come on...she is the daughter of Captain Morgan!!!! She knows how to use a sword better than more of the Men in the Royal Defense.

“Afternoon, Now today we will practice sword fighting. I would like to assess how long you can last. No injuries please. Sparring as I taught you. OK you have your partners. Sword up. Eyes Sharp”, I step back and look at them watching as they touch swords. 

“First one to surrender loses, other wins. Begin!!!”

The sound of swords clashing, metal to metal. Each pair has been going strong for about 10 Minutes. Violet, was done in 3 minutes. Ahhh... Violet does not give a Man the satisfaction of bragging that they beat her. She stands by me watching the other trainees. As the sun starts to go down, everyone finishes and i dismiss them. As the moon arises and light shines, I take out my journal from my pocket to show Violet the message. 

A Green Light glows up to the sky and she looks shocked as she sees the cipher written in the cover. 

“Whoooooaaaa that’s really...” She stops in her sentence and looks to the water. 

“What is it? What are you looking at?”, I ask her.

 “Look at that ship. Is that one of our Armada?”, She points to the boat moving towards our land. 

“No, I do not recall us having a Red Ship. We should go inform the King.”, We both run towards the Castle towards the King’s Study.

Knocking on the door anxious and frightened, waiting for an answer.

“Come in!”, We hear our King yell. As we enter, we bow to him. 

“Ahh hello Miss Ainslinson and Morgan, How may I help you?”

 “We are quite sorry for disturbing you at this time but Sir there seems to be a ship in our waters, not of our Armada”, I inform him with my Emerald eyes wide.

“I suppose they seek refuge, allow them in to speak with me but take the defense guard with you both in case there’s trouble” 

“Yes your excellence”, We bow to him and go off to get extra swords from the armory. We tend to fight with 2 swords. Excellent fighting method.

POV (Point of View) of Hongjoong

We arrive in the Kingdom of Aurore. Searching for 2 certain young woman, daughters of Kidd and Morgan. They can lead us to the treasure we seek to find in the Chest of Blackbeard himself. Me and my fellow princes rule the Kingdom of Ateez. Pleasure to meet you, I am King Hongjoong. If you do not know, our kingdom is fierce as we populate the most pirates in the world. Why are we seeking this treasure? Simple, if we find it, we can truly say that we are commanders of the Sea. Thanks to my Master of Trickery, Yunho has developed a plan to kidnap them to make a deal to find the chest.

We dock at the far end of the port and we knock down the guards there, walking across the bridge to the castle. 

“Let’s go. Quietly, please. Keep the masks on please.”, I say as we walk to the front gate fighting with all the guards there knocking them out. We walk into the gates and hide behind the columns. Yunho will be our distraction. 

Back to POV of Emerald

Me and Violet walk to the gates and we see they are open. Running through them, we see all the guards are knock out. Not dead, thank goodness. We see a dark figure in the courtyard before the gates.

“Hello! Who are you?”, We walk up to the man dressed in black pointing our swords at him.

”OK OK Ladies, no need to fight over me”

 “Please I’ll have you begging me not to kill you”, Violet says snapping at him.

 “Really? How can you do that if you are unconscious?’, He says crossing his arms. 

“Wha-”

A cloth covers both Violet and I’s mouth, making us slip into darkness falling to the ground.

1 Hour Passes...

We open our eyes and find ourselves in the Armory, on the floor. Holding our heads, we hear a voice coming from the left side...

“I see you are awake now, sleeping beauties”, I notice that there are 8 men in the room all wearing black and black masks on. 

We both stand up looking at them intensely. All of them walk towards us and take off their masks to reveal....Ateez. We run to the the wall and grab swords and point them at them. 

“Why are you here?!”, We walk towards them. 

“Please put the swords down, we want to talk reasonably”, Mingi says, looking at us smirking. 

Yes we know who they are, there is basically a reward for catching them. I have to say, our criminal poster artist is quite brilliant. 

“Reasonably? REASONABLY?!!! NO! You kidnapped us and knocked us out and you expect me to talk with you?!!!”,I yell at them pointing my sword right at his neck. 

“Ooooo King, she’s a feisty one. I bet you she is Kidd’s little girl”, Yunho says laughing.

 “How do you know who she is? Tell me right now or I swear you won’t be able to in 10 Seconds”, Violet says holding Yunho to the wall pointing her sword at him. 

“You must be Morgan’s. I can tell by the fiery attitude”, Seonghwa says biting his lips. 

“We want to speak about the chest”, Hongjoong says and we step back and look at him.

 “How do you know of that?”, I ask him.

 “ I heard of your father disappearing looking for it and we seek it for the treasure.”

I put my sword up to his neck. 

“Selfish!!! You have no idea what that chest is. You want it for riches, I want it to find answers and it will fix more than greed”, I look at him. 

“I see. So how about we make a deal? You help us find the chest, we take the gold and you do whatever you need to. We can be useful, we command the Sea”, He replies. 

Me and Violet laugh at them. 

“No one commands the Sea, just occupies it but keep believing that”, Violet says standing next to me. 

“ Hmm.. whatever. But before we make a deal, I want to have a little test. To see if you are really Pirates, you seem soft as Nobles. I doubt you know how to use that  sword”, Wooyoung laughs. 

“Wanna find out? How about we spar with each of you one at a time, swords and combat”,I suggest raising my eyebrows. 

“Deal. If we see it fit then we can agree and take off”, Hongjoong says.

 “Oh and if we agree, we are taking my ship. She is much more larger, useful, up to date and faster. Your ship should be wrecked about now, it’s a disgrace”, Me and Violet laugh. “Deal”, Hongjoong shakes my hand. 

“Stay here, we need to change and get our actual swords, these are standard training ones not sharp enough”, We laugh as we go to our rooms quietly. 

I walk up to my chest in the far right of my room and unlock it- revealing my pirate clothes. I haven’t worn these for a while. My mother had it designed after my father as he loved Emerald Green and Black like me. She told me to that I would need it one day so she may it big enough for me to fit it when I grew up. It’s perfect, I have altered it a bit myself so that it can look a little more modern. I place my clothes on the bed. I find my sword and take it out, looking at the sharpness of it as the metal shined. This was one of my father’s swords that his father gave to him. He never used it. Before he sailed off, he passed it on to me. My captain hat is pure leather as well as my boots I am surprised that it is still smooth. Passed down from my great grandmother who was a Pirate as well. Ahh..my compass,and telescope were gifts from the King. Lastly, my necklace, the jewel of an Emerald, my mother made it for me. Reminds me of her every day. 

Violet POV

I know that before my mother died, she told me that I am the image of my father. She told me that I have fire in me. She obviously did not mean literally but she meant Passion. I always finish what I start no matter what. When I met Emerald, both of our mother’s had just died and we were taken in my the King. My father was killed on his ship from attackers. The few who survived brought me the gifts he made for me. My jacket is red as fire similar to him. It is really special to me to have the same colors on as my father. My sword was crafted in China on one of his trips, by the famous Pirate General. My telescopes is an ancient family heirloom. The detailed carving and design is beautiful.  My red necklace that i wear everyday reminds that I will always be safe no matter what. 

We both walk out and look at each other smiling. 

“Ooooo girl you look....Muah”, Emerald says putting her fingers together kissing it. 

“Thank you. But please your father has great taste with making that jacket”, I say and we walk back to the armory. 

Walking into the armory and locking the door, turning on the lights, and see them all laughing and resting on the benches. We put down our compasses, telescopes, guns and jackets on the table and walk to the middle of the floor. 

“So are you going to get up or what?”, I snap at them. 

“Yeah yeah we got it”, Yeosang says standing up with the rest of them. 

“Ok this is how this is going to go. Each of you will get to spar with us, one at a time. You must choose between hand to hand or swords. Now if you want swords go to the right, Hand to Hand combat go to the left. Swords will go first ”, Emerald says with a stern tone. 

Yeosang, Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Mingi go to the right, San, Wooyoung, Yunho and Jongho go to the left. 

General Narrator POV

The first person to go up against Emerald was Mingi. He is quite tall as you know but Emerald does not shy away. She can see a weakness in him- Balance. She draws her sword and looks at his feet. Due to his height, he is very unbalanced on his feet. She smirks and raises her sword nodding her head. She swings her sword to clash with his, he stumbles back but pushes forward to clash again. He swings his sword toward her head but she ducks and does a roll on the floor. Clashing her sword again, she pushes him backwards with speed and force and entangling her sword with his, she knocks it out his hand. Putting her sword at him, he surrenders.

 Seonghwa. A very shady character. Always trying to find loopholes. His mistake was that Emerald has a sharp eye. After clashing swords for a few minutes, she notices that he loses focus very easily. When he looks away, she swipes underneath his legs sending him on the floor. Putting her foot on his chest, she smirks. 

Yeosang. Well... No structure. He can defend himself, but very sloppy. Emerald and him only fight for 3 minutes. His sword fell out his hand. Interesting. Now Hongjoong. Deemed to be the best sword fighter in his kingdom. I do not think so. Emerald and him clash swords and he continues to swing, trying to pin Emerald down. As soon as he turns around to swing his sword, Emerald puts something at his back as she points her sword at his neck- A dagger. She laughs and he looks at her with wide eyes. 

Now Hand to Hand Combat. Hand to Hand refers to physical use no swords. You may use your legs and upper body. Yunho’s mistake was that he thought that since he was taller, he could just push her down, Wrong again. After ducking his fist swing, she spins around and kicks him right in the side leading him tumbling to the floor. Emerald packs quite a kick. Wooyoung looked pretty solid but weak. He swings toward Emerald but she flips each way he swings, blocking it.Swiping his feet under her, She jumps and Kicks him down with one swing. 

San. Now he was trained in Martial Arts from a Chinese Monk supposedly but can he beat her? Getting in his stance, he swings a kick to Emerald, she blocks it by grabbing his legs and pushing him to the floor. Getting right back, he swings his arms towards her with speed but she counters them with kicks. Lastly, she rolls on the floor behind him and kicks him down. He looks up at her and smirks. He is very impressed at how she gracefully moved as she fought, never giving up. He found it... attractive. 

Well now we have Jongho. Do not let his age fool you. 19, Yes. But very strong. They may be the same age but that means nothing. Jongho steps forward and swings at her, this time she gets falls but does a backflip getting back on her feet. Jongho is impressed at her agility and flexibility. He stares at her moment but by surprise she pushes him down with her on top of him straddling his waist, holding her arm on his neck. He smirks and widens his eyes. She stares into his eyes and sees a sparkle in them. She quickly gets off of him standing up, acknowledging her victory. 

 Emerald’s POV

“Ahh that was extremely fun and embarassing for you all”, I laugh and go to sit down next to Violet.

 “Wonderful Job”, She says. 

“Thanks, now go get them. Remember what I taught you- Look for weaknesses and attack.”, I tell her and wink. 

The order remains the same for fighting. The special thing about Violet is that she is a fast fighter. Now with Mingi, it was over in like 2.2 seconds. He swung his sword towards her to far and fell over. I started laughing so hard. 

Seonghwa...pfff he could barely focus for some reason, she swung her sword so beautifully to him that he surrendered. That was very interesting to see. He basically looked her up and down undressing her with his eyes. Hmm...anyways 

Yeosang swung his sword at her and each time she ducked it and swung harder with two hand making his sword fly across the room. He really is a weak fighter. So much for a Prince *laughs internally but really out loud*  

Hongjoong thought he was always the best but is he a better sword fighter than Morgan himself? Morgan’s daughter? Absolutely Not!!! For a few minutes of sword clashing, I can tell that Violet was doing what I taught her- Tire out the opponent to make them lose focus and control. She saw the laziness in Hongjoong’s swings and she grabbed his arm throwing his sword to land in the wall. That’s my best friend!!! 

Me and Violet are the same height. Many see us as being small and weak but obviously we are not. Despite his large size, Yunho swings his arm towards her and she grabs it and twists it behind his back. 

“Nice try, trickster”, She whispers in his ear and twists his arm tot he front and spin kicks him to the ground.

 Almost immediately, San runs up to her and attempts to kick her down but she ducks and does 3 front flips and swipes under his feet sending him on his back to the floor. Wooyoung literally just got kicked in the chest by her and fell on the floor. Haha...Luckily the armory floor is padded for when we train but I can tell they still got hurt. 

Lastly, Jongho. He did try his best but with one punch to the side, he went falling like humpty dumpty. 

“Well this was really sad to see”, She laughs and helps him up. I walk over to her and put my hands on my hip.

 “So do we have a deal?”, I say to Hongjoong as he holds his stomach in pain. 

“Yes, Yes, As long as you don’t hurt us like that again”, He says.

 “Ok, As long as you don’t get on my last nerves!”, I say and he shakes my hand.

 “Deal” He says. 

“Great. We leave at the crack of Dawn. Less people out and we will have more time to get supplies and sail off. You sleep in here. Do something stupid and i will nail you all to the wall with daggers. 

Night Night”, I say and me and Violet walk to our rooms for some slumber. 

What did i get myself into? I doesn’t matter, I can finally go find my father and the jewel. 

Author’s Note: This was a long one lol but thank you so much for reading it. I means so much to me. Shout out to @hwaseongatiny​ for giving me some wonderful suggestions for this chapter. She has such a creative mind. She is the best supportive and sweetest friend. 

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Spring

(AKA, why work on long running fics or that novel you’ve been writing when you can spend the day writing sex-swap porn?)

Ao3 link

The keep they were visiting was tiny, barely more than a large cottage. House Stenn, or Stean or something like that, whatever it was, neither Gendry or Arya could really remember. But, they had been summoned to resolve a dispute, and that they would do. A break from Storm’s End was always welcome, and it was only a week’s ride.

Despite the size, the people inside were much as Gendry had come to expect of nobility. Old, pompous, overly formal the works.

But, eventually the land rights are figured out, and him and Arya are set to leave in the morning.

Looking restless in the afternoon, Arya had asked one of the servants if there was anything to see around the area.

“There are some lovely hot springs up the road,” the woman had said, “But you should stay away from the one with the red rocks.”

Arya stares with confusion, but gains no explanation.

After asking a few more people and getting similarly cryptic answers, Arya finally wrangles it out of a stable boy when she goes to check on the horses.

“Well milady,” he says, blushing up a storm, “It’s magic.”

“Magic?” Arya asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, I mean...the story goes that if a man jumps in and goes under the waterfall, he’ll come back out a lady. And if a lady did the same, she’d come out a man.”

Arya dismisses him then, figuring she’s embarrassed him enough.

She goes and finds Gendry fast though.

“We’ve got the afternoon free, want to go find an apparently magical spring?”

They’re on their horses halfway down the road when Gendry finally asks.

“Why exactly are we doing this?”

A ride into the mountains is a fine enough way to spend the afternoon with his wife, but he’s come to be suspicious of anything that claims to be magic.

“Oh come on,” Arya insists, “After the white walkers and the three-eyed crow, don’t you want to know if everything they say in the world is magic, if it actually is, or if it’s just a story?”

The spring is easy enough to find. Up in the mountains where they are, there are lots of springs, but when the earth beneath their feet turns to red dust much like the Red Mountains of Dorne, Arya knows they must be close.

It’s not very dramatic looking when they find it, it looks just like an ordinary mountain spring, tucked off the beaten path, a deep pool of clear water below a cliff that had a waterfall coming down the side, feeding the pool.

Gendry hasn’t even gotten off his horse when Arya’s dismounted, and stripping off her clothes.

“Arya!” he calls after her as she wades into the spring. She hadn’t said anything about investigating the spring by actually going under it to see if it worked.

She grinned at him over her shoulder.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

And with that, she dunks her head underwater and swims under the waterfall.

Her head bobs up from the water to take a breath, before dipping under again, and then she repeats it. By the time she swims back and begins to emerge from the water, Gendry’s dismounted and begun to remove his own clothes too.

When she walks out from the spring, Gendry gapes. Her gray eyes are the same, her face much too, though Gendry’s not close enough to see if she’s managed to magically get a beard. She’s still slender, though taller, her arms and torso lined with smooth muscle and a smarting of dark hair across her chest and further down…

Gendry swallows roughly. Yes, that is definitely a cock and balls she has. They bob in the sunlight as Arya shivers in the air and walks forward to him.

She spins around, Gendry catching sight of her arse, which somehow looks much the same, round and cute and pinchable…

“I went around a couple times,” she says. Her voice sounds funny in her throat, deeper and like it doesn’t belong to her, “Just to make sure it would reverse if I went in again. How do I look?”

Gendry chuckles. She is still definitely Arya. He reaches and touches her shoulders, the height change disorienting him only a little, but her grin reassuring him.

“Bossy and reckless, just like always,” he assures her, fingers touching the ends of her hair, which is nearly as short as it had been when she was Arry.

“Your hair’s different too,” he comments.

She shrugs, “Magic, I guess. Maybe it depends on how you think you would look as the opposite sex.”

She leans up to kiss him, and though he has to shut his eyes at first, he lets himself lean into it, despite the difference. As her mouth opens to allow his tongue, he runs his hands down her shoulders to rest them on her bum.

He feels a twitch, and opens her eyes when she giggles.

Arya recognizes the pull in her groin, the sensation of heavy heat, but instead of feeling her smallclothes become damp, she feels her new cock get thicker and harder and the skin pull tight and darken to a deep red. Arya’s seen tons of cocks, but they were mostly on dead men, but from her knowledge, it seems the spring was quite generous with size.

“Guess this body likes kissing you regardless,” she tells him, with a seductive eye waggle.

She pulls away from Gendry and sits down, laying herself back on a rock by the pool. She wraps her fingers around her cock, stroking it as she gazes up at him.

“Haven’t you ever wondered?” she asks, practically purring, hips jerking underneath her. Gods, this felt good, how did boys get anything done once they learned to do this? “What it’s like for the other half of the world?”

Gendry shrugs, and comes in a little closer. Arya keeps tugging on her cock, groaning. She’s almost angry how much easier this is than rubbing her clit or fingering herself.

Gendry kneels by the rock where she is, and gently pulls her hand away from her cock. Arya is about to open her mouth to protest the sudden loss of stimulation, when instead Gendry opens his mouth and puts her cock in it.

It’s like being doused with hot water. Arya’s throat lets out a strangled scream as Gendry’s mouth engulfs her, his head bobbing. Under normal circumstances, she loves sucking his cock because he turns into a complete, helpless, begging mess underneath her. Now it seems the tables have turned.

Arya gazes down at him, running her fingers through his black hair, doing her best not to thrust up into his mouth and gag him. He has one hand wrapped around the base, and his lips stretched over the head, moving back and forth, sucking and licking, humming and making hungry little noises.

He opens his eyes and winks at her, and that’s when Arya feels herself come apart, tingling and hot from her head down to her toes, feels her balls tighten and her seed spill into Gendry’s mouth.

He licks his lips and moves up beside Arya on the rock. She’s breathing hard, feeling her sweat pooling. He kisses her once, running his fingers through her short hair.

“So what did you think,” he says with a saucy grin, “of coming like a boy?”

Arya laughs softly.

“It’s strange,” she says, “I still feel like I’m a woman.”

She reaches down and cups her balls and her now flaccid cock in one hand, playing idly with the wrinkly skin.

“Even with these. I remember my mother telling someone when I was little that I was half boy half wild beast. Everyone used to think I must have wished I had been born a boy. But even though I loved swords and wore boy’s clothes, Even when I was in disguise, I’ve never felt that I actually was a boy.”

She looks back up at Gendry’s face, and when she sees his lips, her mind goes hazy in remembrance.

“It was really hot,” she admits softly, “Seeing you sucking a cock, and you sure seemed to know what to do. You’ve never done that before? Not even to some other lonely boy in Flea Bottom?”

Gendry’s face goes hard, and Arya wonders if she said something wrong.

“Even if I’d wanted to...that wasn’t something you even thought about doing, you certainly never said anything about wanting it. Those were the worst words they could call you, sissy, queer, cocksucker. You saw what the Faith Militant did to Loras Tyrell. You heard Daron’s story about what his master did to him when he caught him kissing another boy.”

Arya’s breath catches in her throat. She knows that story, remembers hearing it back on the Nymeria one evening when she, Daron and Tim had been sharing a barrel of ale. It was so horrible, and so unlike nearly every other story that had come out of the two of them before, always easy-going and upbeat. She had cried.

Gendry smiles softly, pushing her mind back to the present.

“I remember talking with Tim, because he’s lain with men and women both. He claimed getting your cock sucked by a man is better because they understand better how it feels. So I wanted to show you.”

"Thank you," Arya says sincerely, "Most men- most men if someone had suggested that would have probably gotten angry, even violent."

Gendry brushes her off with another kiss.

He stands at this point, and Arya notices his own cock is quite hard now. She almost offers to test his theory, when she notices he’s heading for the water.

“You’re going to try too?” she asks, trying not to sound too excited.

“Well I sure won’t have you calling me a chicken back home,” he yells over his shoulder before diving under the waterfall.

Arya holds her breath waiting for him to emerge. What she sees is a vision.

Gendry is still quite tall, his short hair grown to his shoulders in raven waves. His skin is smooth and pale, and his tits-

His tits are huge, Arya thinks, far bigger than her own. They bounce with every step, nipples perky in the cool air. His hips are wide, his arse plump and soft, his mound covered in thick black curls.

When he reaches the shore, he catches sight of himself in the water.

“Seven Hells,” he swears in a slightly high pitched voice, “I’m beautiful.”

Arya laughs. She leans back against the rock and crooks a finger to him.

“Come here.”

He comes and lays beside her on one side on the rock, propped up on his elbow. Arya smiles, and leans in to kiss his (too big, too soft) lips. Feeling warm again, one hand reaches up to squeeze a breast, his nipple hard against her finger.

“Gods,” Arya says against him, “They’re so...squishy.”

Gendry laughs, leans back and squeezes them himself.

“I’ve told you. All tits are great when you’re touching or kissing them, but big ones can’t be beat for looking at.”

He’s gazing down at himself and grinning and Arya wants to smack that grin off his face. She kisses him fiercely, fighting his tongue with her own, and slides her hand down through his mound of thick curls.

“You’re so wet already,” she whispers to him with a twinkle in her eye. “Open your legs a little bit and let me see?”

Gendry lifts one leg and bends his knee, opening him up to her.

“All that black hair,” Arya starts, running her fingers through it, marveling at how pink and wet he is already, “hiding such a pretty treat.”

She slides a finger between his folds at the same time she leans forward and sucks a nipple between her lips, rolling it. Gendry moans deeply, and Arya feels his cunt get wetter around her finger. Even in normal life, he loves having his nipples played with and these ones are more sensitive than usual.

“How many fingers do you think you can take?”

“I’ve gotten four in you before.”

Arya smiles wickedly, starting off by filling him with two, crooking them and feeling Gendry’s hot cunt clench around her.

It’s strange, wonderfully, beautifully strange, Gendry thinks. It’s not nearly as obvious as his cock getting hard, but the feeling of his arousal dripping down his thighs, coating Arya’s fingers, is somehow more all consuming. It’s like his cunt is hungry, and only Arya can satisfy that hunger.

“Well, we have to start slow,” she whispers into his ear, pressing herself close to him, feeling his breasts press against her. She’s using her bossy voice, the one Gendry only obeys without question when they’re in bed, though it sounds a bit more commanding in her deeper voice. “As far as we know, you’re just a lovely maiden here bathing in the spring. Just waiting to be ravished by a passerby.”

Gendry snorts while his eyes continue to roll back with pleasure. She indulges him by adding a third finger and delights in the feeling of him writhing underneath her ministrations.

“You’re mad if you think a body this beautiful is a maiden.”

“Well then,” Arya says, withdrawing her fingers. She stretches out along the rock, stroking her cock, raging hard again already.

“If you’re so confident, come on over here and fuck me. Just like the first time.”

Gendry approaches her with a smile, and only a hint of nerves. It’s not like they haven’t fucked hundreds of times in the years they’ve been married, but this feels different, exciting, electric.

He throws his leg over her waist, reaches down to grab her cock and lowers himself onto it slowly. He moans, deeply. This is it, this is the cure for the hunger inside of him. He’d known Arya’s cock looked good sized just from blowing it. Inside him, it feels like he’s stretched and filled to the brim.

Arya moans too. She knows all the words men use when lavishing praise on women’s cunts. Tight, hot, wet. Gendry is all of those, but men didn’t usually talk about the wonderful softness, the feeling of being squeezed and hugged from all sides. It was fantastic.

Gendry’s eyes meet hers and for a moment, Arya almost feels like she should look away. There’s always a moment like this, just a bit when they’re joined when it feels like they’re really just one person.

Gendry begins fucking her in earnest, deep and hard. He reaches down and brushes fingers over her nipples, making her squeak and squeal. Arya fucked like a minx when she was on top, bucking wildly, making wonderful, breathy little moans when her mouth wasn’t spewing filth. He had no desire to fuck her any less well.

It’s hard though. Arya reaches to cup his tits, playing with his nipples while he impales himself on her again and again. The muscles in his thighs burn, but it’s a good burn. She rolls a nipple between her fingers and advises him,

“Rub your clit at the same time.”

Gendry can’t imagine being anymore sex drunk than he already is, but he takes her advice. Clumsily, he finds the little pink nub and strokes it, quickly feeling a rush as his cunt clenched Arya’s cock as he lost his mind.

Afterwards, he feels like he collapses.

“I can’t,” he says. Arya’s still inside him. She reaches out and her hand lands roughly on his bum.

“Turn around then,” she says in her bossy voice, “On your hand and knees, arse in the air.”

Gendry does as she says, though his muscles feel like jelly. Doing what she says always goes well for him in bed, so he doesn’t mind.

Arya gazes down at him and nearly drools.

“You’re arse is gorgeous,” she tells him, stroking his plump cheeks. It still somehow looks just like his, it must be his back and shoulders, which are just as strong as they’ve ever been. He groans, pushing himself back against her.

“Tilt your chest further down,” she suggests, pressing down on his shoulder blades, “It feels much better like that.”

“Now,” she says, stroking her cock before running it against Gendry’s dripping wet cunt, “Do you want me to fuck you gently? Or should I just pound you until you scream?”

Arya makes noises, lots of noises, during sex. Moans, grunts, little whimpers that only made him harder. But overall, she wasn’t often loud.

Gendry has a flashback, to the last boring feast they’d been forced to attend. Years of residence at Storm’s End had taught them all the best hiding places and when the wine had flowed the most freely, they’d slipped into an empty corner of a drawing room and Gendry had bent her over a table, lifted her skirts, and fucked her until she had screamed. She walked funny for the rest of the night, but grinned the whole time.

“Be as rough as you like,” Gendry says over his shoulder, wiggling his arse in invitation.

Arya grins and swats his arse before plunging him. She moans, it’s much tighter for her like this, and the view can’t be beat. She can see his cunt swallow every inch of her cock, she's in him straight to the balls.

Gendry’s pressing himself back onto her cock as hard as he can. If she had felt big with him on top of her, she felt humongous like this, and he can’t get enough.

Arya reaches and grabs a handful of his hair, pulling it roughly, and Gendry’s cunt clenches even harder around her. He hates that that turns him on but it does, she had laughed so hard when he’d admitted it, saying it was obvious that he didn’t grow up with siblings. It wasn’t fair, he’d had the grace not to laugh when she’d admitted that she liked being spanked.

But right now, her pulling his hair while she fucks him is making him wild. It’s not long before Gendry’s panting and sweating with Arya’s cock pounding into him wildly.

“I”m going to come,” he says, and when she leans forward and uses both hands to push his shoulders further down, he does, with a wail.

Arya shuts her eyes tight at the sensation of him fluttering around her. She will keep going. Multiple orgasms are the best part of having a cunt, and she will not deprive him of the chance to experience it.

Keeping up her brutal pace, she snakes one hand around his front to play with his tender clit. She fights the sound of his moans and the sight of his hips jiggling around her cock until she feels him clench again, this time screaming her name.

Finally about to give in, she holds his hips in her hands and says,

“I’m going to come too, want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you with my seed?”

There’s a moment, then.

“Yes, give it your all.”

Arya grins, squeezing his hips so tight she’ll no doubt leave bruises. She shuts her eyes and with a last burst of energy, keeps pounding, feeling his cunt enveloping her until she gives in and lets him milk every bit of seed from her cock, collapsing against his back, drained.

Gendry’s slumped flat on his stomach on the ground, with Arya still on his back. When Arya’s breathing evens, she wraps her arms around Gendry’s shoulders and kisses the side of his neck.

“You’re the best you know that?”

Gendry grins, but his eyes are closed.

“Can’t talk, fucked too good.”

Arya giggles, leans and kisses him on the shoulder. Then she stands, and before Gendry realizes what’s happened, she’s dived back into the spring.

When she emerges from the water, her old self, Gendry opens one eye at her.

“If your body can go that hard,” he asks, ”How are you not demanding that I fuck you every hour of every day?”

Arya shrugs.

“I’ll do you one better. On your back, knees open again.”

Gendry rolls over without opening his eyes, but they fly open when he feels Arya’s tongue swirling against his cunt.

When he starts to squirm, Arya pats his thigh.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, I’ll be gentle.”

This is different than being fucked like an animal, warmer and slower, but no less good. Gendry opens his eyes to watch as Arya works her tongue against him, mindless of the squirt of her own seed painting his lips. She looks upward through her mussed hair, meeting his eyes as she laps at his clit and he slowly, gently, comes with a kitten’s mewl.

Afterwards, boneless, they cuddle for a while in the sun.

“I wonder why this place is here?” Arya wonders.

“You don’t think it’s always been here?”

Arya shifts onto her back.

“I don’t know, I mean, this is just a fun afternoon adventure for us, but this could change someone’s life. It feels like something that must have been made deliberately.”

After a while, Gendry swims under the waterfall and reverts to his tall, muscled, stubbled self and rejoins her on the rock.

“Maybe it was someone like you all those years ago, someone who had to disguise themselves to stay safe.”

Arya frowns.

“Maybe. Or maybe it was some child who had grown up absolutely certain that they weren’t born the right sex and wanted to make their outside match their inside.”

Gendry ponders this.

“What would happen if a pregnant woman swam under there? Would it just change the sex of the baby?”

“You’re charitable,” Arya responds, “I’m imagining some noble in the old days sending their first borns through there because they dare be born girls.”

Gendry ponders the waterfall, thinking harder.

“I found a bit of one of my uncle Renly’s journals,” he starts slowly, “He was writing about Loras Tyrell when he was a squire. Something about ‘I have seen no lovelier a face, if I saw a woman with a face as yours, I could not love her half as well.”

Arya lifts herself up on one hand, musing on the lives of those who could not love openly just for their outward appearance. Would this place actually fix that? More likely, Arya thought, it would make things worse and she can’t abide the thought of bigoted people learning of it.

“We’ll have to keep it secret, as House Stein has all these years.”

Gendry groans.

“Is it Stein, fuck, I’ve been calling him Lord Stain.”

He rolls and lifts Arya on top of him. She wraps her arms around his neck and his find her hips.

“I’m so glad the world lets me love you openly,” she tells him before a kiss. He kisses back, with intent.

“Are we going to do this cuddly this time?” She asks.

Gendry stands, carrying her with him. Her legs wrap around his waist, and they carefully shift until he’s deep inside her again.

Gendry kisses her neck.

“I think that’s a perfectly good way to end the day.”

They make love like that, standing, wrapped around each other beside the picturesque spring.

A perfect fit.