#warning: don’t open up these tags I went on a very heated and rather unrelated rant cuz I’ve been mad

[poppyseed799]

btw I don’t know if this is a thing anyone is thinking about but I’m not gonna stop drawing Jimmy as a canary. It’s a lovely bird. It’s still something that’s been really important to his series. There’s no reason to drop the canary headcanon just cuz Lizzie fell into the void.

[kiss-inthekitchen]

all that you ask of me | loki laufeyson

summary: you and Loki have a discussion about your kinks, and you learn something about him that you weren’t expecting

wc: 1.5k

warnings: smutty themes!! talk of bdsm, both reader and loki are switches and they aren't chill about it, teasing, light degradation but in a cute way, sub!loki, dom!loki, f!reader. loki has huge bisexual switch energy and i had to put it in a fic

a/n: title is kind of unrelated lol it makes more sense in the next chapter. pls let me know if you like it, i love when u guys leave comments or tags !

It’s been a few weeks since you and Loki had started dating and your sexual chemistry has been insane, which was a surprise to neither of you. You’d started out as friends, and even then, any time Loki had so much as brushed his fingers along your skin you felt something akin to electricity spike through your body. And though he was loath to admit it at first, Loki felt the same. So, once you finally gave in to your mutual feelings for each other, things only got more exciting.

Though the two of you had been having sex for weeks, you hadn’t really done anything too spicy yet, still getting used to this new aspect of your relationship. Now, though, you’d decided it would be a good idea to get it all out there, rather than try to figure it out as you went along. Besides, something about the idea of talking things out with Loki like it was nothing more than a casual conversation was thrilling to you.

You and Loki were sitting on the couch, your legs resting in his lap as he absentmindedly soothed circles into one of your calves. You smiled fondly at the way he always had to be touching some part of you. The two of you had covered a few topics already, going over safewords (you were partial to the traffic light system, and Loki agreed) and some of your hard limits, and now you were on to the fun part. Specifically, a rather exciting interest your partner had just confessed to.

“You know,” you mused, unable to keep the teasing smile off your face, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into submission, what with your whole...thing.”

“My whole thing?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows at your choice of words. You suppressed a laugh. He probably would’ve spent more time on his faux outrage if the look on your face wasn’t so damn cute. “Yes, well. I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

You hummed in response. “I mean, I had hoped you’d be into it. Or, I guess, fantasized, would be the better w-”

“Did you?” He cut you off, sounding all too pleased.

“Oh, for a while now,” you smirked.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, the admiration in his eyes shifting to smugness as he continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to be a dom, what with your whole thing.”

You made a show of rolling your eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Compared to Loki, you were much more bubbly and warm, not that he was really so cold anymore, but he was still… him. On top of that, your style tended to lean more toward pastel colors, though lately you were known to also rock some dark green tones. You supposed that from the outside, people would assume you to be the more submissive one in the relationship. Which you definitely could be, but your tastes went both ways.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you relented. “Now come on, tell me what I want to know.”

“Okay, well. I’ve no problem with bondage, as I’m sure you know.”

“You do seem to end up in chains quite often, my love. But... not sexually?” You’d meant for it to be a statement, but then you realized you actually had no idea, your voice lilting up into a question.

He fixed you with a look that very clearly told you you’d been wrong.

Well, okay then. “Right,” you responded, a little breathier than before, trying not to let your imagination run wild just yet. Loki squeezed your ankle playfully, bringing you back before you could lose focus. “So, is there anything you’re not okay with, bondage-wise? Like, collars, ties, cuffs…?” You trailed off.

He thought for a moment. “No, it’s all fine with me. What about you?”

“Cuffs kinda freak me out, actually. I don’t have superhuman strength and all.”

“Noted. Oh, one thing I do want to mention- I’m going to have to ask that you refer to me exclusively as ‘Your Majesty’ when I’m in charge,” he said, expression unwavering.

Your mouth dropped open for a second before you asked, “Wait, seriously?”

He broke into a mischievous grin. “No. But if you’d really like to, I suppose I wouldn’t stop you,” he said the last bit thoughtfully, and you playfully hit his arm with the back of your hand in admonishment. “Ooh, harder,” he said, still with an air of mischief, though you got the sense he wasn’t entirely kidding.

“Loki!” you gasped.

“Alright,” he laughed lightly. “Great God of Mischief will work just as well.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You’re being so difficult.”

“Will you just tell me what you like to be called already? If you carry on like this, I swear, I will call you Captain.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, glaring at you, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask, care to test that theory? “Okay, I yield. But, honestly, it depends on the scene. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have you call me ‘sir’ most of the time, ‘daddy’ on special occasions. You’re a smart girl. I trust that you’ll know when those occasions come about.”

You just nodded, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Why were you having such a reaction to Loki calling you a smart girl? He’d definitely noticed.

“What would you like to be called? When you’re the dominant?” Loki asked, saving you from your thought spiral.

“Oh, um. Ma’am is fine. None of the other terms really work for me, I don’t know why, they just seem kind of… too much, I guess,” you over-explained, feeling your cheeks start to heat up.

“Ma’am is just fine?” Loki pressed.

“No, it’s- it’s good. I, um, really like it.” Your cheeks flamed even hotter now, your gaze trained on the couch cushion.

Loki reached out and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “Come now, you were doing so well. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, voice taking on that deep timbre that made you feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Okay,” you breathed, your mind gone completely blank as you looked at him.

“Good girl,” he said softly. He didn’t miss the way your body reacted to the praise, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Bastard. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slightly to clear it. “That’s not fair,” you countered weakly.

“Isn’t it? I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he feigned innocence.

“Right,” you said, only a little petulantly, trying to think of what else you wanted to ask him before he’d distracted you. “How do you feel about degradation?” You blurted out. “Receiving, I mean.”

That caught him off guard, to your great enjoyment. “I- I’m not sure. No one’s ever tried it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up but no one’s ever called you names?”

“No,” he responded, frowning slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I think I might be okay with it.”

“My honey, you’ve been so deprived,” you said with a pout. It was your turn to have a little fun now. “So,” you started, trailing your fingertips up his forearm, drawing his attention to your touch before you continued. “If, for example, I had you on your knees, and you were being so good for me, and I just happened to call you my obedient little slut-” he inhaled sharply, and you couldn’t help but grin, “-you would, theoretically, be okay with that?” You looked up into his eyes, seeing the flash of desire that had settled there.

“I think that would be acceptable,” he spoke, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice even.

You smiled, pleased with yourself. It was cute that he still tried to seem unaffected when you could literally feel the way his cock had stiffened against you. You shifted the position of your leg in his lap, lightly brushing against him, and he gasped.

“Pathetic,” you chide.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he may try to seem unimpressed with your teasing, he was certainly susceptible to it. “If you want us to get through the rest of the conversation, you’re going to have to stop that,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea than an order, and he’s sure that you’re going to be the death of him.

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, dearest,” he says, tone laced through with affection.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, drawing him closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Well, that’s a mistake we won’t make twice. Isn’t it, love?”

[remmushound]

Beyond the bay part 16, What Lurks?

Summary - Leonardo assesses Mikey’s physical and mental state. 

Tags - @selfindulgenz @brightlotusmoon @ilo-artistry

Content warnings: Medical exams, medical assessments

Everything was wrong. Wrong and so very dark. Mikey felt as if the clouds had fallen from the sky and come to settle in his mind; yet, despite the mental lag that weighed on him like lead, his body felt impossibly light, almost drifting. He had to find them; he had to find his team! But he felt like he was suffocating, like there was hundred pound weight bearing down on his chest. There was… something that he was wading through. Something that shifted and rippled and flowed around him like a cool, moving blanket.

He had to find his team. He had to get back to the mission! He had to find that mutagen and he had to find his way! And… he had to wake up…

“Ow…?” Mikey opened one eye, and then the other as he was suddenly and acutely aware of strong fingers digging into his muscles. His head was throbbing with a steady thump thump thump.

“Mike.” Donnie’s voice was breathless and urgent, but nonetheless gentle as he momentarily paused his massage in favor of more important exams. 

“Ah— again with the light?” Mikey whined and raised a hand to cover his eyes as Donnie shined his flashlight in them.

Donnie returned to the painful massage. “Do you know your name?”

“Mikey…”

“Do you know where you are? Do you know what happened?” The more questions Donnie asked, the more pressing his voice became. When Mikey didn't respond, Donnie repeated himself louder and clearer.

Mikey could only sputter. He knew he should know those answers, but when he reached out to grab them, they slipped through his fingers like sand. His eyes grew wider, and he shook his head. Why couldn’t he remember?

Leonardo was there too; Mikey didn't notice him until the red eared slider moved directly in front of him and waved a hand. The motion made Mikey focus on him, though at the time there seemed to be more than one of the blue-clad ninja, like Mikey was seeing double.

Leonardo, as opposed to Donnie’s bombardment, only asked a single question. “Can you tell me who is best turtle?”

Mikey’s face wrinkled in his concentration, and then split in a grin. Now that he could remember! “Trick question, it’s me! I’m a triple threat: brains, brawns, and a dazzling personality.”

Leonardo couldn’t have smiled wider if he tried. Now that Mikey could focus better on the room around him, which slowly came back to him as the infirmary, he finally located the source of the thumping that he had thought was just in his head. He saw Donatello hanging in the background, the young mutant looking blatantly bored, like he’d rather be doing anything else at that moment. He was bouncing a tiny, purple ball against the wall, catching it, and then bouncing it again in a steady rhythm. Unlike the other turtles, he didn't seem to notice nor care that Mikey was awake; his only acknowledgement was to Mikey’s self-declaration of being best turtle.

“Well that is too bad, because I am a quadruple threat.” Donatello bounced the ball one last time, then caught it as he made his way over to the group. “Strong, funny, amusing, and hilarious.”

“Aren’t three of those just synonyms?” Donnie questioned without looking up from Mikey’s tensed muscles.

“You.” Donatello said. “I do not like you.”

“But I like the confidence!” Leonardo declared, and held out his hand to Mikey. “High three!”

Mikey was all too glad to meet the inviting gesture— that is, until his hand seemed to faze through Leonardo. Mikey frowned, and then he tried again with the same result. He missed? If Leonardo noticed Mikey’s confusion, he didn’t show any reaction to it. Instead, he grabbed Donatello’s ball, much to the grievance of his twin, and tossed it up in the air a few times.

“D’ya wanna play catch?” Leonardo offered, his smile slight and soft. He grabbed the ball between his thumb and pointer finger, showing the tiny rubber toy off to Mikey. “Might help you concentrate~”

Having something to do with his hands did help. Mikey nodded eagerly and held out the arm that wasn’t currently being assaulted by Donnie’s therapeutic rubbing. Leonardo swung his arm back and forth a few time, allowing Mikey the chance to focus before Leonardo tossed the ball with a careful swing. Mikey’s eyes followed the ball as it glided smoothly through the air, and he raised his hand to catch it. It slipped right through his hands. 

Mikey blinked. His eyes pinched together as they searched and eventually found the ball on the floor rolling away from him. He missed? Again? Now he had a tight pain in his chest, one that refused to go away. A ball of discomfort and anxiety and fear that grew bigger and bigger, trying to force itself up his throat to choke him.

“Are you playing tricks?” He didn't know why his voice sounded the way it did, like a child who hadn’t yet found the confidence to speak up.

Donnie frowned at the weakness of the voice, gently cupping Mikey’s head in a hand to tilt him back and examine his throat. Mikey gave a low churr of disapproval, but didn't resist.

“No tricks!” Leonardo said, and he held up his hands as a show of surrender. He held that stance for a few seconds more before gathering the ball from where it had fallen and placing it back into Mikey’s hand. “Okay, now you pass it to me.”

Donnie backed away from Mikey to let him have space while the younger box turtle stuck out his tongue and tried his best to focus on Leonardo’s shifting figure. It was like a filter had been laid over Mikey’s vision. A filter that made Leonardo seem as if he were in constant, blurred motion and made his voice like something at the end of a cavern.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Came the echo of Leonardo’s voice, so distant and lost to Mikey’s ears. The tunnel was so dark, and the sewage was up to his knees and uncomfortably warm. He breathed, but it burned so he did it as little as possible. For the republic, he had to keep moving. Mutagen was fuel, mutagen was life, and there was mutagen in this dark place. He just had to get back to Commander Mozar and find it. Mozar would know what to do. He was hand-picked by the prime leader himself!

There was someone calling his name. His commander? No, someone more familiar, more like a brother. Zog? No… no that wasn’t it either.

“Leon…?” There was a slick, cool hand pressed over Mikey’s forehead.

“Hey, bud.” Leonardo said, and he was smiling; Donnie’s face was turned into a tight frown. “You zoned out for a sec. All good?”

“Head hurts…” Mikey swatted Leonardo away and tried to sit up.

“Hey hey hey hey!” Leonardo didn't let Mikey get very far, “Easy. You need to lay now.”

“No… no we need to find him!”

Leonardo cocked his head. “Find who?”

“I… him!” Was all Mikey could offer, “He’s scared and alone.”

“Where is he?”

“I… I don’t know!” Mikey knew he should know but he didn't, and in retaliation against his own mind he began to repeatedly strike himself right between his eyes. Donnie intervened before he could hit himself more than twice, forcing Mikey to lower his arm but only making the box turtle more frustrated.

“Mikey, take it easy.” Donnie tried, but Mikey didn't seem to care about doctor's orders. He started to try and resist Donnie’s efforts to keep him still. “Little help here?”

Leonardo was hesitant to lay a hand on the thrashing Mikey, but when he finally found a hold, he pressed down firmly on the older turtle. His attempt to restrain the mutant wasn’t very effective, and when Mikey was able to stand, Leonardo pulled back and simply let Mikey leave while Donnie kept trying to stop him.

“Ge’ off!” Mikey shook his shoulders trying to dislodge his brother.

“Mikey, what—?” Donnie was unrelenting.

“GET OFF!”

Mikey got as far as the doorway before he was picked up around the middle and carried back inside by Raphael, holding the shinobi like he was nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum. He laid Mikey back down on the bed and Donnie skirted around the snapping turtles shell, grabbing Mikey’s arm to keep him still while Mikey tried to shake the grabbing hands off of him.

“Mikey, if you don't stay down I’m gonna have to strap you down.” Donnie said with a voice even and placid.

“What happened?” Raphael’s lips pulled into a frown, his hand going down to feel Mikey’s forehead.

“I don’t know, he just freaked out.” Donnie said calmly. He ran his hand across Mikey’s cheek and made soft, shushing noises intended to sooth. “How is Yoshi?”

“Yeah, he uh… he’s fine.” Raphael said absently, his head nodding along with his words, “Just hate to think how long he was alone for…” 

“Mikey, do you know where dad went?” Donnie asked softly; Mikey seemed calmer now, no longer resisting his bedrest, but his teeth were still bared to show his discontent. Donnie sighed. “Guessed not.”

Raphael laid a hand on Donnie’s shoulder and prompted the box turtle to look up at him. “He can’t have gone far. Maybe he just wanted to explore a bit.”

“He wouldn’t just leave your father here alone.” Donnie sighed, shaking his head.

“You’re probably right.” Raphael admitted. “Your Leo’s probably going crazy.”

Donnie closed his eyes and, ever so slowly, leaned his head back as he sucked a deep breath through his nostrils. Then he lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to nurse a growing migraine.

“I’ll go talk with him. Can you sit here with Mikey?”

“Of course.” Raphael said with a patient nod, sitting beside the bed and resting a hand over Mikey’s plastron.

Donnie left the two younger turtles in charge of his brother while he left the room in search of the oldest. He first found Michelangelo and Raph in the exercise room; the massive box turtle practically had steam rising off of his muscles from the heat of his body, slick with sweat and eyes focused determinedly on the ceiling above him as he worked his reps. Michelangelo wasn’t exercising, but he seemed to be having a good time hanging onto the bar while Raph lifted it so he could dangle and swing like a monkey. Donnie felt his migraine only worsen as he slumped against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes with enough force to make stars dance in his vision.

Raph had been in that same spot since they had made the discovery of their fathers absence several hours before, and Donnie could practically smell the frustration and understand it too, because he felt the exact same way. He needed to go and find his father before something awful happened, but he couldn’t leave with a clear conscience with Mikey in the state he was in. When it came to the choice of which was more important to him…

Donnie shook his head. Mikey would always come first. He and his brothers had agreed on that when they were little, and that agreement would live as long as they did. Splinter was strong and Splinter was capable, and right now Mikey needed them more. All of them.That didn't make the worry for his dad any less burning.

“You gonna say something?” Raph’s voice rumbled, “Or just stand there starin’?”

Donnie laughed, but it was a half-hearted and weak laugh. He shook his head and didn't bother to answer the question verbally. He simply walked into the room to stand over Raph; the middle child didn't pause his reps, not even for his brother.

“How’s Mike?” Was Raph’s next question.

Donnie almost naturally reached out an arm so that Michelangelo could climb onto him, and Michelangelo was more than happy to do just that. He swung on his friends arm with happily, monkey-like giggles while the other brothers retained composure and hardly reacted to the childish games.

“Awake.” Donnie said, “Confused. Raphael and the other Leonardo are with him now.”

“Good.” Raph kept pumping, eyes focused.

Donnie sighed. He carefully picked Michelangelo off of his arm, one of his hands enough to completely engulf the box turtle's plastron, and placed him on the ground. He stepped over the smaller mutant and grabbed Raph’s bar, yanking it pointedly from Raph and replacing it on its shelf. Raph’s eyes sharpened, snapping to Donnie and ready to give him hell before he saw the icy, cobra look in Donnie’s eyes. Instead of yelling, or saying anything, Raph simply sat up and shouldered his way past Donnie. They didn't need to exchange words for Donnie to know where Raph was headed.

Donnie shook his head once more before grabbing Michelangelo, who had his arms up asking to be held. He carried Michelangelo the rest of the way back to the infirmary; Raph was there, kneeling on the ground beside the bed and holding Mikey’s hand in his. He was talking slow and soft words to his youngest brother, words Donnie couldn’t make out, but the intent was there. Donnie plopped Michelangelo down on the floor and turned back around, leaving the rest of his family and continuing his search for Leo.

He found his eldest brother in the zen room; the room itself wasn't very well-maintained, once teal paint peeling off the walls and plants that were either overgrown and swallowing the walls of the room or dead at the root. The dead ones were the fault of none— being so low in the sewer, access to any sort of sunlight was a scare rarity that growing such plants were always difficult. For the rest of the plants, it was sheer neglect that led them to grow as immensely overpowering as they had, seeking any glint of light to sustain them. Leo sat in a lotus position in front of a green pool, just as neglected and forgotten as the plants, though it seemed to be from natural deterioration and not any contamination from the sewage around them. 

“Hello Donatello.” Leo said without bothering to open his eyes or drop his position. “How is Michelangelo?”

“He’s okay.” Donnie sat beside his brother; his long legs weren’t built for the lotus position, so he just sprawled out and got comfortable. He had the feeling he was going to be here for a while. “Are you?”

Leo took his time to consider the question, rolling potential words around on his tongue before he settled for something that felt right. “I am dealing, considering. If Michelangelo is well, then we should think about going after father. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yeah.” Donnie nodded, “Everyone’s sitting in with Mike to keep him company.”

Leo nodded slowly and finally opened sapphire eyes. “Then perhaps just us two should go. Let Raphael and our friends stay here with Mikey. We can move faster on our own.”

Donnie couldn’t help but agree with that, but there was still a twinge of doubt that refused to be ignored. “These aren’t our sewers, Leo. We should bring at least one of the Hamato’s to lead the way.”

Leo considered. “Alright. We’ll take the other Leonardo then. Perhaps his sense of direction is as good as mine.”

Leo’s sense of direction had always been advance, far more than his brothers. You could place him in the heart of a maze and within minutes he would be able to find his way back out again. He knew he would be able to navigate these sewers even with what little knowledge he had of them, but Donnie’s anxiety was never something to ignore. Leo took a final, sharp breath before standing, inclining his head ever so slightly toward his brother.

“Let’s go now. No time to waste.”

“But— but Leo, we can’t take both me and Hamato Leo, we need a medic here in case Mikey has another fit.” Donnie reasoned.

“Fine, then we’ll take the other Donnie.” Leo decided promptly, waving for his brother to follow. Donnie obeyed.

“What about other Raph? It might help to have some extra muscle if we find ourselves in a pinch.”

“Uh.” Leo looked down at his bicep and, just for good measure, he flexed to make the muscles more defined.

“You know what I meant.” Donnie’s eyes rolled, but he pursued the issue no further. There was very little time to do so even if he wanted, because already they were entering the med bay.

Mikey had his eyes closed, lips pulled down in a tight frown as he stretched his head back as far as his neck allowed. Despite the position, Donnie knew he wasn’t asleep; he knew his brother too well to assume such things. All eyes turned to them as the two entered, and both older Splinterson’s could feel the shift in energies tingling their skin. 

“What’s up?” Leo asked. 

Donnie’s instinct was to immediately go to Mikey, doing a quick check of his vitals and finding them as steady as they had been when he left. Donatello seemed to be the only one of the turtles who wasn’t entirely on edge, taking the time to yawn and stretch before pulling out his phone and pulling up an article. He held his phone out where the older brothers could see that it was a current article posted just hours before, the headline bold enough to catch anyone's attention.

DINOSAUR SEEN IN SEWERS

[merryfortune]

Beneath the Weather

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt 66: Grey

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Word Count: 1,794

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Fluff, Whump, Sickfic

   In this sort of grey and dreary weather, it was easy to feel beneath it.

   But Spectre was not going to allow himself to feel anything more than inch outside of his usual self. He had a fussy personality, he didn’t mind nurturing his hobbies or his beloved. Actually, if anything, he thoroughly enjoyed micromanaging his plants and, of course, Ryoken too but he hated to be taken care of. It elicited a vulnerability that made him extremely uncomfortable. After all, the only kindness and affection that he had ever felt genuinely had been robbed of him very early as a child.

   Thus, he would very much prefer to toil through his bout of under the weatherness. He wasn’t even going to entertain it by calling it some sickness or illness. Even if it was a day off from activities as a cyber criminal operating with the Knights of Hanoi, he still had a long list of chores and other things to do. 

   He wasn’t going to let the gloomy weather outside stop him nor his little sniffles that were bothering him. It was barely anything at all. So long as he kept rugged up, perhaps a little more than usual, he ought to be fine. He would simply sweat it out tending to his indoor plants, the outdoor ones would be fine in the vague precipitation, so long it didn’t turn foul and tumultuous. It would all be perfectly fine.

   And yet, despite having the utmost conviction, Spectre still succumbed to whatever it was which was dredging up the worst tiredness inside of him.

   He stirred, irritated that he had fallen asleep at all, and he realised something. There was a soft blanket laid over him and the more confused he became, the more confusing things he realised. He was propped up on his side; he usually slept on his back. Now that he thought about it, he did not recall putting himself to sleep and this pillow that he was using was very peculiar as well. For lack of a better word, it was bony but not necessarily uncomfortable.

   “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ryoken teased him.

   All grogginess that Spectre felt evaporated immediately. His eyes went wide and his face went bright red. He had been asleep. In Ryoken’s lap. And for goodness knows how long. The humiliation was instantaneous and more than enough to bring upon another dizzy spell. Spectre’s head spun and he collapsed back down into Ryoken’s lap.

   “Oh, you poor thing, try not to move too much.” Ryoken murmured, looking up from his book and lazily putting it away with just one hand.

   He pet the top of Spectre’s head and Spectre’s eyes squeezed shut. On one hand, he very much did not want this but on the other, he very much did. His compromise was to pretend that neither of them existed but that did little to quell the undeniable - and soothing - sensation of having Ryoken play with his hair. His fingers were very gentle, deftly raking through the thick strands of Spectre’s grey hair, all clumped together with sweat.

   Spectre moaned to himself and then feebly asked, “What happened? I don’t remember the last… half an hour or so at all.”

   “I would imagine so,” Ryoken agreed, “you’ve been out cold for at least two hours.”

   “Two hours?!” Spectre exclaimed, only to sound like he was running out of air to breathe, his voice twisting and murmuring.

   “Yes, two hours.” Ryoken confirmed. “You were passing through from the kitchen, perhaps on your way to your bedroom, perhaps not when you stumbled and luckily, I noticed. I was able to catch you before you fell, mid-faint, and drag you to the lounge where we’ve been ever since. It’s been pleasant. You're cute when you snore.”

   “I do not snore.” Spectre denied, red hot.

   “It made for very nice white noise as I read. I managed to get through half of my novel.” Ryoken made small talk.

   He paused and his hand roved down to the side of Spectre’s face. Spectre recoiled, Ryoken’s hands were freezing to him but it was nice. Cooling. Ryoken then checked Spectre’s forehead. He hummed thoughtfully.

   “You're still burning up…” he mused.

   “I - I feel awful.” Spectre murmured. 

   He took a deep breath and tried to get up. Ryoken allowed it, rescinding his hand from Spectre’s head, but he was worried for Spectre as he was entirely ungraceful as he propped himself up to sit up straight. Or at least, straight-ish. He sat somewhat slumped and slanted. Exhaustion dripped off him no differently than sweat. He breathed heavily, raggedly.

   “Do you want some help?” Ryoken asked quietly.

   “Not particularly,” Spectre admitted, “but… in this case. I could use some assistance.”

   Internally, Spectre fumed. He was not the one who was supposed to need assistance. He was the one who provided it. Day in, day out: he provided for Ryoken in all sorts of ways. He was very much the glue that kept their routines and schedules together. He was very much not used to leaning on others for support, mostly because he felt as though he couldn’t or had no one to, but Ryoken was very much not no one. He was rather special to Spectre.

   Ryoken smiled tenderly. He got up and he offered his hand to Spectre. Spectre gingerly accepted it so Ryoken held onto him tightly. Spectre’s grip was weak and how he hobbled along, even with Ryoken’s aide, was even worse. He ambled along like a newborn fawn, determined not to fall but if he was, he was absolutely going to take Ryoken down with him.

   Thankfully, Spectre’s room was on the ground floor of the mansion so with enough patience, they were able to get in and Ryoken put Spectre to bed. Ryoken tossed Spectre a bed shirt that he could wear that was probably more loose than the button-up shirt that he was already wearing. Spectre wanted to insist that he was fine but he knew that would be a battle that he would lose, so he didn’t bother fighting it. Whilst he got changed siting down in his bed, Ryoken drew his curtains across. The sudden darkness in the already dim room was a load off, Spectre had to admit. When he was changed, he handed his shirt back to Ryoken who put in the nearby laundry basket and turned his gaze, soft, back onto Spectre.

   “Do you need anything?” Ryoken asked. “Aside from painkillers and water, I’ll bring you some in a sec but is there anything else you might like?”

   Spectre hesitated, “I’m kind of hungry…” he murmured.

   “I know, I’ll warm you up some of yesterday’s tomato soup and bring it as well.”

   “That’s an awful lot to carry.” Spectre worriedly pointed out.

   “I’ll be fine.” Ryoken said. “Besides, I know you would go above and beyond for me so this is the least I can do.”

   “Then can I be selfish and ask for a heat pack too? It's weird, I’m hot and cold at the same time.” Spectre added on. He shivered for emphasis but it wasn’t on purpose, he looked too clammy and pale for it to have been on purpose.

   “Absolutely. You're not being selfish at all.” Ryoken said.

   With that, Ryoken left to go and raid the kitchen for the various supplies and comforts that Spectre needed. He smiled to himself and finally in his own bed, Spectre did feel more obliged to try to recover but even so, he didn’t feel able to relax. He had this terrible headache and more, he just wanted to escape from it all, even if it was momentarily. He receded down into his sheets and doona, pulling them up and over himself and whilst he enjoyed the comfort of his cocoon, his whole body still felt like he was in agony. 

   The pain that he felt was amorphous and moving. Vague, just blobs of hurt, inside of him and yet, it was enough to rate incredibly high on his pain scale. His stomach growled. Tomato soup was sounding very nice right about now and he strained his ears. He could hear the microwave buzzing and whirring, and Ryoken’s footsteps. It shouldn’t be long at all now and against his will, Spectre’s eyelids fluttered, getting very heavy and he drifted off to sleep for a moment, or at least something akin.

   That was, until, his door opened and disturbed him. Spectre roused from his nap and Ryoken looked sorry for it. He stepped inside slowly and made his way back to Spectre, giving him plenty of time to wriggle back up and rearrange his pillows so he could sit up.

   “Here, drink this and take these first, hopefully they’ll help.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre’s fingers were shakier than he thought they would be but he managed to accept the glass of water regardless. He took a sip and then Ryoken gave him the pills to take. He swallowed them without issue then set aside his glass on his bedside table. Ryoken lowered the tray so Spectre wouldn’t burn either himself or his doona with the hot bottom of the bowl of tomato soup.

   “Thank you, Ryoken…” Spectre murmured.

   Ryoken smiled, “I know you're just having lunch now so its probably too early to think about dinner but well, do you want me to order takeout later? Your favourite, of course, or whatever you want.”

   “That sounds rather nice, actually.” Spectre replied as he stirred his soup before blowing on a spoonful.

   “Great,” Ryoken said, “well, I’ll leave you be. You probably want some peace and quiet.” He wasn’t quite mumbling but he was close.

   “I don’t mind but thank you.” Spectre said. He drank a spoonful of his soup and rather demurely, his gaze flicked back to Ryoken and he managed to utter out, “I love you, I appreciate your doting.”

   “I love you, too,” Ryoken told him, drawing in closer, unable to resist, and he pecked the middle of Spectre’s warm, damp forehead, “get well soon.”

   “I promise.” Spectre murmured, his heart raced in his chest and he could feel himself getting dizzy again but he suspected that this instance was unrelated to his previous instances.

   With that, Ryoken gave him some more privacy with the promise to drop in on him later so he could pick up the used bowl and cutlery. Spectre didn’t mind so long as he was quiet. Though, quiet was something of a misnomer. The vague precipitation that had clouded and meandered with the grey of the poor weather had finally become something else. A gentle rain that tapped on his window as he ate and rested, feeling entirely loved and doted upon.

[quietlypondering]

Timeless | Chapter 4

Read on A03 Ship: Prinxiety Summary: In a society where superpowers are the new era on the horizon - Virgil is happy flying under the radar, as much as he can, with government issued blockers. Life was… Normal - Or, at least, as normal as he could be. Until one day, as cheesy as it sounds, a simple train ride would change his life forever. Word Count:  1642 Chapter Warnings: Suicide Mention, Nightmares (including burning/boiling alive imagery, suicidal imagery/ drowning imagery. All of this will be in Italics if you wish to skip.) Tags: Superpower AU, Angst w/ a happy ending, unreliable narrator A/N: Thanks again to my wonderful beta reader @kolurize <3

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Burning. Boiling. The sounds of water bubbling away brings him to his senses. Virgil blinks awake - a feeling of vertigo sends him reeling forward, and when he looks up, the smell of chlorine hits him like a truck. He keels over, eyes blurry, head stuffy, and realises he’s standing on the edge of a swimming pool. And it writhes beneath his feet, forceful and unrelenting. He feels the heat rise, almost catching his breath in his throat.

Without any warning, he feels his feet slip. His heart pounds in his chest as he begins to fall, grasping for dear life for some sort of edge. He does - barely - his fingers numb against the rough side of the swimming pool. Smoke licks at his feet as he holds on for dear life. He tries to yell, to scream, to make any sort of sound come out of his mouth, but it doesn’t. After all, it’s hard to scream when you’re dreaming--

--Virgil awoke with a start - his head pounding, unremitting, like it was the worst hangover he’d ever experienced. Even the dull light filtering through the window was causing his eyes to ache and burn and pulse at the back of his skull. His chest tight, his arms heavy - Virgil could barely gather up the courage to move a finger, let alone an arm, much less his whole body.

He rolled over in an attempt to shield his eyes from the light, but all it did was force him into a bout of dizziness. He gritted his teeth, pulling himself out of bed with all the strength in the world. Virgil let out a groan, pushing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to get the pulsing to just stop.

He trudged over to the bathroom - startled, momentarily, by the way his face looked in the mirror. Pale and ashen, and a thin line of dried blood ran from his nose all the way to his chin. He grimaced, splashing some water in his face and thoroughly scrubbing the blood away, hoping he would at least look a bit presentable.

Quietly, Virgil shrugged on his hoodie and slipped discreetly out the door. His hands shoved deep inside his pockets. The feeling of cool wind at his neck made him shiver, yet was oddly comforting against his clammy skin.

He found himself wincing at every other step as he trudged down the street, garnering several odd looks from passersby. One little old lady even stopped and asked him if he was alright. She commented on how ghostly pale he looked - but when Virgil didn’t bother to answer (out of awkwardness, or his feverish stupor), she quickly left him be.

By the time Virgil made the audition, he could barely even remember why he was there.

His movements were weak and lethargic, so much so that as he stumbled through the door, he evidently made such a scene that those sitting in the waiting area had their faces contort into a look of startled concern.

Truthfully, he could barely see. He made quick work of tripping over his own feet, and as if on cue, another pair of feet appeared just inches away from his own. A pair of arms caught him and when Virgil finally looked up, he saw a familiar face. Curly hair. Blue eyes. A look of quiet unease set firmly on his face.

“Are you alright?” It was Roman. Roman, looking a mix between confused and concerned, tilted his head slightly. “...Do we know each other?”

Virgil could barely even think straight (or ever, really, for that matter,). But, he managed to squint at him in his semi-conscious state and mumble, “No. Not this time” before his entire world went completely black.

Hot. Hot hot hot, burning against his skin. He’s yanked away from the edge of the pool by an unknown force, and thrust deep into the vat of boiling water. He opens his mouth to scream, but hot, scalding water just enters his lungs. He struggles to breathe, writhing, trying to scramble his way to the surface - but he just sinks. Sinks all the way to the bottom of the pool and - and then he’s falling.

Falling hard and fast through the air. His stomach drops, but as he looks around he sees nothing - nowhere to hold onto - he’s just falling. The wind catches his breath. He closes his eyes, squeezes them shut as tight as they will go - and then… nothing. He opens his eyes. He’s inside a kitchen - or, rather, just outside one. He recognises it, it’s the kitchen from his old house. 

There are voices that he can’t quite make out. Angry and bitter. He tiptoes closer, fingers just barely touching the door handle as he pulls and peeks into the room.

A kettle boils on the stove. Two people much, much taller than him argue. He hears no words, but he feels them, crushing and debilitating. There’s a pause. The two figures in the kitchen turn, two pairs of eyes stare at him - glower in his direction. There should be words, but there are none. His breath catches, and he shuts the door. The arguing continues, as it always had, and as the kettle begins whistling, he rushes out of the house.

He turns back. The whistling of the kettle still in his ears as he begins to run. He looks up at the sky, grey-black clouds tumble across it with purpose. With a gasp, he turns to find himself in a field. Beyond it is a sprawling dark forest - he watches as the trees begin to close in. The field becomes smaller, until it’s just a clearing, as if he’d changed the size of a camera lens. The space between the trees grows smaller, and he can no longer breathe, no longer see anything but writhing vines and rotting wood.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up - he feels eyes - eyes on him, like something is coming, like a sense of impending doom. The ground beneath him shakes, and when he turns - the sky is dark. Dark and clouded over, the only thing in the distance is a pair of too-bright headlights. As much as he tries, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away.

He looks down - feet glued to sodden wood train tracks. As he lifts his gaze up, he sees it coming, a large, black train. He opens his mouth to scream - Wait - No - but it continues forward in its unyielding course. He screws his eyes shut - arms moving to cover his head, bracing for the impact. But it never comes.

Virgil awoke shaken and confused - and hot, an unbroken fever bubbling beneath his skin. Distant hushed voices, something cool on his forehead, a touch on his arm. It occurred to him, briefly, that he in fact had no idea where he was. He bolted upright, immediately regretting it for the woozy, light-headed feeling that came across him.

“Oh- You’re awake. Are you alright?”

Virgil was not, in fact, alright.

He turned to the unrecognisable voice, squinting so he could attempt in vain to see through his hazy eyes.

“...You fainted. I’m sorry, I should’ve called an ambulance, but, well, I live really close and-”

It wasn’t until then that slowly, his memory began to filter back in, along with an inexplicable sense of dread. He frowned, trying to assess the unfamiliar location. Red bed sheets. Plush carpet. Desk. A bedroom? He turned, and it quite quickly dawned on him that he knew exactly who this was.

“What’s your name?” The person - now identified as Definitely Roman asked - and Virgil sat a moment with his mouth entirely agape.

“I’m… Virgil.”

“Roman. Roman Prince!”

Virgil felt a slow feeling of alarm creep into his chest. “Wait, the audition--?”

Roman shook his head. “..Sorry. We missed it.”

Virgil sat in shock for a moment. He felt his stomach drop. His chest tightened as he managed to say, “you missed it, too?”

“Well, yeah! You’ve been asleep for a few hours. I guess I wanted to make sure you're alright.”

While Virgil appreciated the sentiment - he couldn’t help but feel an incredible sense of disappointment. He’d made someone miss a likely important audition, all because he couldn’t keep it together for a few minutes. Shit.

Virgil panicked - screwing his eyes shut in an attempt to kickstart what little of his power he had left. Instead, as he was half way through working himself up, Roman placed a hand on his arm and gave him a pointed look. “It’s fine, you don’t have to do anything,” Roman said.

Virgil froze. “Wait, how do you…” Roman simply pointed to Virgil’s very obvious wrist, metal blocker wrapped around it, and grinned sheepishly. “...Oh.” He grimaced. Of course. “I’m still the one who caused you to miss it…”

“Look- Virgil, right?” Virgil nodded briefly. “Virgil, it was just a low budget show. There’s always the next one!”

There was a pause - Virgil could almost feel Roman studying his demeanor.

“...How do you feel, anyway?” Roman inquired.

Virgil barked out a laugh. “Like I got hit by a truck.” It rang hollow and bitter - and Virgil felt a pit growing in his stomach from the comment. He didn’t look in time to see Roman’s reaction, but...

“I know some people get weird about answering this but… What ability do you have?”

Instinctively, Virgil made to cover the blocker on his wrist with his large hoodie - but quickly decided against it. Roman already knew, anyway.

“It’s cool if you don’t want to talk about it-”

He pondered for a moment, mulling it over in his head before, without really giving himself much of a chance to decide, he said, “I can control time.” Another pause. “Well. Control is a loose way of putting it. It’s more like I can ride the waves and sometimes I get yanked underwater and can’t breathe.”

Roman frowned - and Virgil wondered if that’s all anyone ever felt. Damn Pity. “That does sound dangerous. No wonder you need that.” Roman pulled backwards on his chair. “My question is-- What’ve you been doing? You look like hell - uh, no offense.” Virgil swore he saw a twinkle in Roman’s eye.  “How have you been using it this much? Are you on some sort of quest? Finding a long lost love?”

Virgil turned away, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. “S-Something like that. I suppose.”

Roman leaned back in surprise. “That’s pretty admirable, dude. If someone did that for me, I’d marry them on the spot.” He laughed, “Not that I can- well, nevermind.”

Virgil flopped back onto the pillow, an arm hiding his flushed face. Slowly, he moved his arm a little so he could peek at Roman out of the corner of his eye. “...What’s your power, anyway? You have one right?”

He watched as Roman mirrored the same movement he’d done earlier - pulled his sleeve over his blocker, almost instinctively - and he shrugged.

“It’s kinda hard to explain.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow. He could feel his mouth as it began to run completely dry. “Hard to explain?”

“Well I- I haven’t had it for long, as far as I know. It just kinda came in a few months ago.” He bit his bottom lip with what Virgil could only assume was embarrassment. “I haven’t told anyone about it before, really…” He trailed off meekly before adding, “apart from registering myself, of course.” He lifted his half-hidden blocker and flashed it to Virgil with a toothy grin.

“..So what can you do?”

Roman paused a moment to take in a deep, contemplative breath. An unmistakable look of discomfort passed on his face, before finally replying with--

“...I’ll show you.”

TAG LIST // @royallyanxious @kolurize @softanxiouspatton @purp-man  @hexatrash

[crewhonk]

Nameless (II)

1940!Bucky X War Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood ,fluff, bucky is a dummy and gets stabbed?

Summary: When war is hard, attraction and love come easy

AN: To be added to the tag list send me a message! Also feedback, reblogs and likes encourage me to write better and faster! (this part can be read alone if you want)

Words: 2,192

part one / series masterlist

May 3rd, 1942

“Incoming!” The head nurse’s voice cried out from somewhere in the tent. There were only a few men in the back of the tent waiting for evacuation, so when Y/N began to rush around, she didn’t need to worry about moving bodies. 

“How many, Ma’am?” Victoria, one of the older nurses asked as she began to set up trays of utensils and dancing around another younger nurse who was distributing sheets among the fresh cots. The May Austrian heat made for sweat nurses, and Y/N found herself pulling at the collar of her uniform to allow some air to dance across her chest and down her shirt. 

“Only a small squad of ten or so, but multiple GSW’s and knife wounds.” At the mention of knife wounds, half of the younger nurses slowed down to blink stupidly at the Head Nurse. Sure, gunshot wounds were common, and Y/N could stitch two dozen of them closed in her sleep, but knife wounds? 

“Knife wounds? What the fuck are they doing out there where they get the opportunity to be stabbed?” Y/N hissed to the nurse who was helping her layout clean sheets. The crisp linen glowed in the afternoon sun, and when they settled it, there were no wrinkles to be found. 

“I don’t know, Canuck. Men will always find themselves in predicaments like that.” Patty muttered to her peer so that the Head Nurse who was walking by couldn’t hear her cursing the soldiers. 

Both young ladies jumped when another placed a tray of tools on the small desk at the foot of the bed. She was an older nurse, about double Y/N’s age, and the scolding look that Y/N received from her made her hang her head in shame. 

“These men will do whatever it takes to ensure that they get home to their wives under the promise of peace.” She shook a disapproving finger towards both ladies. “And don’t you forget it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

It was only a few short minutes later when the medic’s trucks pulled up to the entry of the tent. There was some shouting that Y/N couldn’t decipher, and soon there were stretchers of men being carted into the hospital. It was a blur of blood and shrapnel and reassuring men that they would make a full recovery. When nobody was looking, and she was sure that the pain medication inhibited the soldier's ability to notice many things, she placed an ungloved hand over the wound and allowed the warmth of her abilities to heal the worst parts of the stab and gunshot wounds. She was sure to leave a mark so no suspicions were raised, but the majority of the deep flesh healing had been done to ensure a quick recovery. 

When Y/N found herself having time to breath, she washed her hands and grabbed one of the charts of a lesser urgent case that could wait a tad longer than those who had been shot in the knees or other important parts of the body. 

“Okay, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, what ails you today?” Y/N said as she flipped through the man's chart. He had been in the military for a few years and had climbed the ranks easily through hard and unrelenting determination. She noticed that he had only managed to scrape through years of service with a few broken ribs and one broken nose, but otherwise, he had been clean. 

“You knowing my name, and me not knowing yours, Doll. I even bought you a drink.” Her head shot up at the familiar husky voice, and she had to curse herself for allowing her cheeks to warm pleasantly. She knew he had noticed by the way the corners of his pretty lips pulled up in a smile, and if she were in any other circumstance (for example, not in a war zone) she would have done almost anything to see it again. 

“You knowing my name is gonna take a bit more than a cheap beer and a few pet names, Sarge.” She smirked, tilting her head and hugging her chart to her chest loosely. His grin widened at her teasing, and Y/N prided herself on the way the tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink. 

“Also I got stabbed.” He pulled his hand away from his stomach to reveal a tear in his green t-shirt that was surrounded by dark crimson. Y/N’s eyes widened before she threw the chart not he bed beside where he was sitting and pulled on some gloves. Of course, Barnes would be one of the men who got stabbed, Y/N thought to herself. 

“Can you take your shirt off for me, Sergeant?” Y/N asked, her voice was stern and demanding, and it made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand up. His mind immediately went to a sinful place, where there were far fewer people around and the lights were much dimmer. He had to clear his throat and adjust the way he was sitting before he allowed her to help him take off his shirt. She knew it was unprofessional to think this way, but the way his muscles rippled and moved when he reached his arms over his head made her bite the inside of her cheek. 

His skin was a deep olive tone, and it was almost flawless save for the oozing wound on the left side of his ribs. 

Right. 

He was stabbed. 

She ran a damp cloth over his wounds, cleaning away bits of clotted blood and sending him sympathetic looks whenever he sucked in a breath of pain. She cleaned the wound with some alcohol and when she approached him with a rather large needle of anesthetic, he shuffled away from her and gripped her wrist in a way that wasn’t painful but was firm enough to stop her actions. 

When she looked up, she saw that his eyes had widened in fear, and his jaw was clenched tightly. 

“This is just some anesthetic so when I stitch your wound up you won't feel it. It’s quick, I promise.”

“You can stitch me up without the needle, Doll I’ll be fine.” His voice was rushed, and she raised one eyebrow in response. 

“Sarge, I’m going to have to do this whether you like it or not. Just look at me, and follow my breathing patterns and it’ll be over before you know it, okay?” Her voice was gentle, and the hand that had fallen on his knee seemed to ground him and set every nerve aflame. He gave her one quick nod and Y/N prodded his wound quickly before counting down from three. 

He didn’t even feel the needle go into his skin. The nurse was so close to him, and he could see almost all of the freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose and forehead. Her eyes were focused, and intense but carried a softness in them that made his heart stutter in his chest. She smelled good too, and the way the army-rationed deodorant melted with her own perfume was clean and citrusy. He watched the way her lips fell open a bit when she put the needle in his skin, and he watched the way her chest rose and fell. He matched his breathing with her own, and before Bucky knew it, she was pulling away from him with an empty needle. It took almost all of his willpower to stop himself from pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck.  

But you know, he was stabbed and she was just doing her job. 

She pushed him down to lay on the bed, and he was entirely speechless by the action. Sure, he knew it was her job to help him heal or whatever, but the pressure of her fingertips against his pectoral muscle sent another wave of excitement through his body and right down to his lower belly. 

She pulled up a stool to sit beside him, and almost effortlessly she threads the silk thread through the curved needle. He remembered trying to follow his mother's instructions when she taught him how to sew his own clothes when he was little and throwing the needle back into the sewing kit because no matter how many times he licked the ends of the toreador cut it off entirely, it would just keep unraveling and fighting him. Was everything she did completely effortless?

“You know,” her words cut through his train of thought and he blinked rapidly at her. She was smirking at him, holding the needle and thread in one hand, and a pincer-like tool in the other. “It’s rude to stare.”

This brought a smile to his face, and he winked at her before she once again became poking and pinching his wound together. He didn’t even feel her touch, as the local anesthetic numbed him completely, but he thought to himself very briefly the things he would do to feel her fingers against his ribs. 

“I think getting stabbed my a Nazi warrants me staring at a pretty dame like you.” She rolled her eyes playfully and tied off the second stitch, making him give her a winning smile. 

“What were you even trying to do when you got stabbed, Mr. Tough Guy?” Her voice was filled with amusement, and she hooked his skin through her needle once more before pulling and tying it off without even looking up at him. 

“Trying to save the world, obviously.” His voice came out as a teasing croon and she would be a liar if she said the timbre of his voice didn’t travel straight down her spine to her gut. She scoffed to hide her flustered thoughts and pinched the skin on his arm with the forceps. 

“Hey, you’re supposed to make me feel better, not hurt me, Doll.” He gave her his most boyish smile and she resisted the urge to pinch him again. 

“You got stabbed today, Sarge.” Her eyes flickered up to his and the mischievousness in them made his lips part slightly. “I think you’ll survive. Can you sit up so I can dress this properly?”

He sat up and lifted his arms out so she could wrap gauze around his ribs. The hair that had fallen from her hairdo tickles his skin in the best way, and she pretended not to notice the way her proximity to him made his skin erupt in goosebumps. She pushed away the thoughts that came to her and that tell her to trace the lines of his collarbones with her lips. He indulged himself, meanwhile, in the thoughts that tell him to pull her into the space between his legs and leave bruising marks on her skin. He thinks about what she would look like with her hair loose around her shoulders and her lips swollen, eyes blown wide with lust and love for him. 

But, he thought back to the letters she was reading at the bar and curses himself. She has a man back home. A man who is waiting for her, and doesn’t have a stab wound with a matching desire to be a hero. 

She clipped the gauze with a metal device and pats his chest before handing him a clean green shirt and discarding the bloody one he came in with.  

“Now,” Her voice is filled with that same stern tone that made him almost lose his mind earlier in the appointment. “I expect you to change this gauze three times a day, and avoid any strenuous activity for a week or so until the wound begins to close up.”

“Come on, Doll. Cant you work some of your magic and kiss it better or something?” He said, smiling down t her as she filled out his chart with the treatment and the wound information. She paused and looked up at him, blinking once slowly and then flickering her eyes over to her tray of tools.

“The offer to stab your hand still stands, Barnes.” She grumbled, with a ghost of a smirk that pulled at the corner of her lips. He once again raises his hands in surrender and stands up. 

“You know, I usually don’t let girls see me shirtless without at least knowing their name first.” 

She scoffed for what seemed like the millionth time in fifteen minutes and pushed him away from the bed. “Now, as much as I enjoy your company, Mr. Barnes— I have work to do, and I’d rather never see you in this tent again.”

“Doll, you’re breakin’ my heart.” He turned around with a smile and placed a large hand on the left side of his chest. 

“Didn’t say I never wanted to see you again, just not here. Now get out of my hospital.” She winked, and once again, took pride in the way his cheeks light up red. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” And with one final salute, he left the tent with a skip in his step and whistling. 

part three

Tag List: @sebastixnstxn, 

[beautifulramblingbrains]

The Dog - Chapter 11

Fandom: Vikings Characters: Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, OC (However brief they appear.) UbbexOC Rating: This is Mature content with multiple trigger warnings on a range of subjects.

A/N: Thank you, @murmelinchen, as per! :). And thank you all so much. I had a little iddy biddy break away but I have seen and read all the reblogs and likes. Thanks again. 

First Chapter // 2nd Chapter // 3rd Chapter // 4th Chapter // 5th Chapter // 6th Chapter // 7th Chapter // 8th Chapter // 9th Chapter // 10th Chapter

Tags:   @pathybo@sparklemichele@singingpeople@captstefanbrandt@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995@emmysrandomthoughts@ariwolf14@bcat1291@tomarisela@romanchronicles @colours-of-my-heart @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lol-haha-joke@thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @tiyetiye @titty-teetee @microsmacrosandneedles @btslee15

For a long while, Avery had peered out across the land, waiting silently, beginning to see the curl of her breath as the temperature dropped rapidly and darkness began to shroud them. She pulled the furs further across her shoulders, not giving in to the thought of defeatism.

Ubbe had told her that he was riding out to Wark to speak with the Earl. He was going to tell him that his battle plans were changing, feeding him lies of their small army marching past both Keeps, not coming into contact with either. They would merely just rest a few more days. Whether it was the truth or not, Avery didn't know or care. But she would wait until Ubbe got back.

"My lady, please, it's cold," she heard Indra say from behind her as she came out to sit with her. She'd said the same thing over an hour ago.

"It's fine. You may go if you want. But I will stay here."

Neither of the women moved. Not until something grabbed Avery's attention, small dots far in the distance growing larger. It would be Ubbe, his brother, Hendrick and a few others. Indra snapped up before Avery, for she had two lovers on the field - whether she wanted to admit that or not.

Tiredly, Avery stood too, still clutching the furs. "Is it them? It's them, isn't it?" Her voice bled desperation and worry, and it was time for Indra to ignore her. The camp had swelled to life, obviously whoever on guard had spotted them and now came thundering back and alerting those left in charge.

As they raced up, Hendrick immediately dropped down into the field, handing over the reigns of his horse, his eyes searching. In another life, he would have raced to Indra. And to Avery's surprise, a sadness seemed to radiate from Indra when she spotted him.

But her own body felt urgent, despairing almost. The crowd fluctuated, trying to get the news, cutting her off from getting to Ubbe so easily. She had a hand up in the air, calling his name with her silly translation, "Ooh bear!" But Avery's voice was nothing compared to the congregating Vikings around her. So with reluctance, she waited, letting him debrief those smothering him.

"From the looks of it, the plan has worked," Indra noted distantly, leaning up on her tiptoes, still watching. Avery's worry had been the threat of anyone approaching the Christian Keep, that they may have found reason to attack rather than talk. "Ubbe was right about those cowards." She took a sharp intake of breath. "Forgive me."

"I'm not offended." She couldn't be, not when Ubbe scoured the crowd and landed on her, his white teeth visible from a distance. He waved the others off, pushing through and leaving Hvitserk with them. And when he got to her, he paused, a bashful sway to her posture before he reached out and pulled her closer. Indra slipped away.

Avery had only just fallen back upon the furs when Ubbe graciously tumbled after her. Due to the impending battle, there was a sense of urgency to his meanderings. Her mouth, her neck, her chest being lavished at any given opportunity. While she was bare, he remained clothed, but jutting his hips into hers, pushing hard into her crotch, so she could feel his need without a doubt. It gave her an idea of what he would be like as a lover. And it was overwhelming.

"Ooh bear," she panted, using both hands on either side of his face to get his attention. And it was all he needed to slow himself, propping himself up to look down at her. He appraised her slowly, drinking her body in before slipping down and taking her nipple into his mouth. She cradled him there, until he went further to her ribs and then to her lower belly.

"Like your silly stories, I'm going to eat you now," he growled.

Avery struggled to get up to her elbows, seeing him squatting between her legs. "What?" She smiled nervously, breath still stolen.

"Watch," he replied, licking his lips.

Ubbe rubbed his thumb once over her clit, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. She snapped her eyes open to watch him kiss his way down her inner thigh. And when he finally reached her core, enveloping her with his mouth, tongue flat against her, she pathetically withered back against the furs, unable to control the sounds that filtered through her lips.

Heat rose in her cheeks, his unrelenting care alternating between fast and then slow, making her hips twitch. But the distance between them was too much. Her hand flailed for him, and he choked back a laugh, reaching up to calm her, interlocking his fingers against hers.

Her legs began to shake uncontrollably, and he moved up until they could rest on his shoulders, which only eased it slightly.

"You taste as beautiful as you look," he mumbled, watching her body writhe and heave with each shaking breath.

"Mm-hmm… Don't stop." He chuckled at her desperation as she begged for him to not to stop over and over. With her eyes shut tightly she tried to reach him with her other hand. And when her fingers curled into his short hair, he greedily complied, not minding her nails digging into his hand as she felt herself being perfectly pushed to a physical limit, then bursting into a million melting pieces.

Ubbe crawled back to her side, very pleased with himself. "I think you just woke the whole camp." But she was still lost, beautifully lost. "Are you okay?"

"I think I saw Heaven," she sighed dreamily.

Ubbe tried very hard not to laugh but couldn't help himself. "If that is Heaven then why don't we go sooner rather than later?"

"Maybe that is pleasure then. Maybe comfort, love… I don't know. I find I don't care either way. Not right now." Rolling onto her side, she felt the need to sleep wash over her.

Sitting up, Ubbe discarded his tunic, unbuckling his pants and slipped them off without falter, then covered them both in the furs.

"This is only the beginning," he sighed, curling up behind her. "Soon I will make full love to you, and every passing moment until you are with child, and every moment thereafter." Ubbe looked at her over her shoulder but she was peacefully asleep already.

"Why won't you speak with me?" demanded Hvitserk. Indra turned away from the entrance to the tent and went further inside. "Have I done wrong? Have I hurt you somehow?"

"Hvitserk, please. I told you before, it was too serious. I didn't want anything serious and then you spoke of marriage," she said incredulously, pacing as much she could in the small space. "You know that you and the word marriage don't go hand in hand."

"What does that mean!"

"Please stop this. Please just leave." Her voice shook and she still couldn't face him. "Leave me alone."

"Is there another?" He put his hands to his hips and looked to the ground, stepping forward when she didn't reply. "Is. There. Another? Because I swear to the Gods, if there is, blood will be shed!"

"There is nobody. I want nobody else!" He stepped toward her and she swung at him, missing and falling into his arms. Memories surrounded them, the short, sweet days they had spent together, loving so much in such a short amount of time.

Between her tears, she turned and kissed him, stumbling across the room.

"Will you be gone long?" Avery's voice was intentionally quiet, so no one else could hear. Ubbe wore his helm, fully armoured, looking much taller than usual as he stood ferociously in front of her. The army waited to divide beyond the trees, splitting to hit both Keeps. Homecamp was moving itself too as soon as they would set off, for safety.

"Will you miss me?" His touch was gentle against her cheek regardless of how he looked. "What did I do to deserve to come across you in this life? How were you chosen to live - for me to see you?"

"I stabbed Hendrick." She smiled. "Life is strange." He stood in silence, studying her face still and her cheeks began to warm. "What...? What are you looking at?"

"I'm drawing you into my mind so that I have it with me. I believe Freya watches me on this day. I see her through your eyes."

Avery became bashful and blinked away. "Stop it."

"Is it not normal to express what I'm thinking? You don't like to hear compliments or how I appreciate you?"

"I'm still getting used to it." She crossed her arms, tightly smiling. She wasn't used to the attention, nor revealing herself to anyone. And he knew her better than anyone now. "Ooh bear, be patient with me. And… and come back."

"Are you ordering me?" His smile beamed.

"That is an order." He stroked her cheek with his thumb, nicked her chin, then turned towards his waiting raiders.

She watched them leave, like a parallel of the previous night. "My lady," Indra whispered behind her. "We will be moving shortly, you must prepare."

"I'm ready."

As the light died, Ubbe marched upon Wark, while Hendrick took the Keep in the North-West. They met with their scouts at the wall, hoisting scaling ladders against the downpour of arrows almost knocking Hvitserk from his climb. When Ubbe turned to check on him, he was laughing wildly, climbing quicker.

Ubbe pulled himself over the lip of the outer wall, upon the stand where the churchmen stood guard, noticing only a small number of soldiers. He pushed the thought from mind, using his axe to maim a man almost upon him.

Quickly he moved to open the gates, a zig-zag stair descent. Hvitserk was with him, having his back until more of the northmen joined them as most waited to be let in. They pulled the lumbering wood from the door, and Ubbe heaved them open, calling for this battle to be fast and favoured by the Gods.

The tents they had strung up were not as big as usual because they were not going to be staying very long. They would move to the Keeps after they were conquered and reside there until the next. Indra stayed with Avery, huddled together for warmth, fearing what was happening to their men.

Their conversation had changed several times, and there was no chance of sleep. It got so bad they fell silent and Avery hugged her knees, listening to Indra hum. After a while, she turned her head, still resting on her arms, just enough to see Indra on her back and looking up to the top of the tent. "I don't think we will sleep at all tonight."

"The battles make me afraid. Whatever outcome comes from them, changes our plans each time…" She furrowed her brows, lost in thought. "And we lose people sometimes."

For some reason, Avery thought of Benedict, the closest person she had had left from her old life. The last time she had seen him, he was half eaten by crows and still strung up. She pressed her hands together and silently prayed.

Indra glanced to her. "I do not doubt them. But the Gods are unpredictable, and so are people."

"I wish I was smarter," Avery blurted, causing Indra to sit up on her elbows. "All these Earls I could have learnt of, all the layouts of the land. Instead I know nothing. Instead I kept away from them as much as possible because I feared for my life... After what happened at Benedict's Keep, I suddenly snapped and was no longer fearful. I had a purpose and it was those children. They were my only vision." She paused with a sigh. "I told them they were in there but they ignored me. Though, now I know ooh bear understood exactly what I was saying."

"The Christians don't care for us. We don't care for them. He didn't know anything about you and for all he knew it was a ploy - a distraction."

"They kill innocent children. I'm still learning how I can live with the knowledge."

Indra bit her cheek. "They don't want to. They have to. There is a difference. And I wish you would stop talking about us like that. You may forget but I am a Viking too."

"Would you kill children?"

"Not by my hand but I would leave them to their fate," Indra said sternly. "Don't judge me, Avery."

"I'm not."

"You know nothing of the land, aside from what happened to your village and Benedict. You walked alone for a while but fell into luck, then luck again with us."

"I shall say no more." Avery scoffed in disbelief, turning onto her side to lay down, away from her.

"Forgive me. Everything is perspective," Indra said as Avery stared at the skin of the tent. "I'm not feeling all too well, I'm sorry." A shadow moved from outside, forcing Avery to quirk up. "It was not my intention to be offensive…" While Indra spouted her long list of apologies, Avery scrambled across to their single candle and blew it out, moving to Indra who'd already clocked on. With both their eyes wide, watching the entrance, Indra pulled a small blade from her ankle.

"Give me that, quick," Avery held her hand out, went to the side and slit the skin enough to see out. She watched as shadowy figures crept across the land - a lot of them. They didn't speak a word, only signals. Avery almost gasped in shock as a man walked directly in front of her hand-made eye hole, his hands covered in blood. She guessed it was from the guards watching over the camp Ubbe had left behind.

She turned to Indra, considerably paled and grimaced. "Churchmen."

It only made Indra fiercer, her features scrunching up viciously as she got in front of Avery and took the knife. "They won't take us." Avery didn't want to know exactly what she meant, and didn't ask. "I will do us both if I need to," she whispered.

Someone must have woke and spotted the invaders. A roar went up and the rush of noise erupted around them. Avery put a hand on Indra's shoulder.

"Where is he!?" Ubbe shouted across the courtyard. Many had stopped, wiping their dirtied faces while Hvitserk stood close, spitting onto the land. Ubbe took off his helm, peered quickly around. "Where is the Earl and where is his men?!" Nobody answered. He strode past Hvitserk, landed a heavy hand on the shoulder of one of his men and whispered, "Go to Hendrick and get word." The man nodded once and raced off for a horse.

"What shall we do?" Hvitserk said.

Ubbe was frowning. "Something's wrong… We've missed something. They have averted us." A surge of anxiety swirled in his gut. "We need to head back. We need to go. We need to go now!"

Thick gloved fingers slipped over the edge of the entrance, peeling it back slowly. Indra made a feral sound in her throat, pushing Avery back, guarding in front of her.

The churchman must have suspected they were asleep or the tent empty, only to be caught with the sight of them huddled together, a glint in his eye.

"Get back!" Indra warned him, waving her small blade.

He merely whistled, another face emerging after a few short seconds, and they grunted a laugh between them. He almost knocked the stakes from the ground with his shoulders as he busted his way inside. That's when Indra launched herself at him in such a way, which Avery could only describe as cat like; her feet planted firmly on the ground in a wary crouch, and then jumping towards him effortlessly.

Outside rang the calls of death, and suddenly, the fear of the past cast over Avery, the fire she saw in her mind's eye, the cries, freezing her on the spot. Wherever she went there was death, continuously affecting the ones she loved. When she thought she couldn't breathe from fright no more, Indra was caught in one hand around her throat like it was child's play, and Avery went after her with a new cause.

She grabbed Indra, trying to pull her back. The other soldier barged forward and lifted her completely off the ground, flinged her to the other side of the tent. Indra swung her knife in a flimsy hand, nicking his cheek and finally freed herself. However, between the man's arms she could only watch as the churchmen pinned Indra by her hair in sheer spite and rained down blow after savage blow onto the small woman.

Unable to bear Indra's screams anymore, she thought quickly and yelled, "I'm from Benedict's Keep! Stop! What are you doing!" She felt the heat and pain, tasted the blood before realising she'd been slapped and bit her cheek in the process.

A fierce yell from outside remenated until Asger burst into the tent and tackled the churchmen who held Avery, sending them to the floor. Dazed, Avery stumbled up, crawling towards Indra, seeing the knife on the ground. She wasn't going to hide anymore. She couldn't.

She wasn't anything like a trained man, nor someone who had attacked in such a way before, but she jumped onto the churchman's back before he could straighten. Indra lifted her head and stuck a leg out regardless of the pain radiating throughout her face, and he tripped, both women using their weight on his arms as he thrashed helplessly on his back. Avery held up the knife, but Indra took it from her, panting, and slit his throat while screeching in triumph. When she fell back, Avery went and scooped her up, looking to Asger still struggling. He shouted something thickly towards them, and Indra tugged her in urgency. "He says 'run'."

Both of her eyes were almost swollen shut and Avery didn't even know if she was focussed on her as her eyes rolled. She was bleeding from multiple places, staining the cloth they wore. And for a moment Avery disassociated, turning her hands over to look at the blood on them.

"Avery!"

"Yes, I heard… Let's get you up. Come on…" She began pulling Indra, got an arm over her shoulder, stumbling out of the tent while Indra held her ribs and whimpered with every step.

It was like walking out into Hell itself. Man against man, a horse running straight through the middle of the temporary camp, carts on fire. She saw it for what it was. That they were no different. There was no such thing as negotiating, surrender, or peace. Both sides, with a plan or idea in mind were demons on either side of the ocean. It was a reverse image of her village, though this time she sat on the side of the Vikings.

"We have to hide…" Indra wheezed.

"Yes, but where?" Avery frantically looked around, the treeline wasn't far but wandering out towards it could make them a target. There was nothing else to try. A howl came from the tent behind them, something smashing as Asger battled inside, and Avery took off towards the trees.

Every step was effort with Indra hanging off her, their pace too slow for the urgency inside her chest. She almost dropped her multiple times. "Come on, Indra! We are almost there!" Their skirts caught their legs and tripped them up, crashing into the dirt. "Indra!"

"Just go, Avery!"

"I'm not leaving you." With new strength, Avery managed to get them to their feet, turning towards the woods.

Hitting the treeline safely was beyond relief.

How long they had walked - or more stumbled through the woods, she didn't know. They could have even gone in circles, and Indra was near collapse. All that she knew was that it was dawn, morning burning through the tops of the trees. It could have been even later than she thought as the darkness was obscured through the overhang above their heads, the forest cloaking them from time.

It was also quiet. Too quiet.

Indra gave out suddenly and tumbled to the ground, eyes closed, and Avery joined her. They laid in silence, just breathing, looking up to the trees, covered in dirt and blood while sharp stones and branches stuck into their backs.

Avery found she was trembling when she sat up. "Indra, we have to find somewhere to rest…" With no reply, she checked Indra, to find she had passed out, exhausted, and probably in a lot of pain. It was cold too, making her hands feel raw and feet numb. "Indra, wake up." Avery shook her, only for her to groan in response. "Indra, please! Please! Don't leave me…" she trailed off, looking out to a wooded wilderness where everything looked the same. A weird call from an animal pricked her ears, the howl of the wind filling her with horror. "Indra!" She shook her more violently, to receive nothing this time.

In fright she scrambled away from Indra on her hands and knees. A realisation - a probing, dreaded thought washed over that perhaps Indra was dying and she could do nothing about it. Perhaps she would get lost and end up dying from the cold or fright herself. Touching her face, she only just now became aware of the sting on her cheek. It burned and felt wet, but she was unable to see what real damage the churchmen had done.

Her thoughts went to Asger and she wondered whether he had gotten away. But did any of it matter if the both of them now died in this wood? At least Indra knew some hunting skills whereas she did not. If she started a fire, would someone she didn't want see the smoke? Could she even start a fire? She needed the right tools, something to spark, rocks, twirling dry sticks against each other. But in the morning dew how would that be possible?

Her mind raced with every thought possible. Figuring that they were going to die anyway.

So, this time she wouldn't run. She wouldn't leave Indra. She'd learnt from her mistakes.

Avery crawled back over to Indra until she could snuggle up to her and push her chest to her back, hugging her as close as possible.

Through bad dreams and terrors, Avery had dreamt of some strange things. At one point she'd floated up through the trees, lightweight like a breeze and could see the two of them huddled together, cocooned, like potential butterflies.

Avery began to giggle. The only sound in the vast darkness that surrounded them. She wondered if she'd be a blood red butterfly between the cream coloured rags of her dress. If she'd have torn or long floaty wings. Lifting a hand up to the sky, she opened and clasped it, pretending she was flying up and away.

"My wings are broken…" she heard herself say.

She laughed harder, snorting and coughing at the morbid thought. "I'd be a butterfly with broken wings! Indra, what type would you be?" Of course, Indra didn't reply and hadn't for a while. "I'll choose for you. I think yellow… with green flecks, possibly owl like eyes on each wing. You could fly me around because mine are broken…" She dwelled on that thought a long moment. "I know you would. We could fly together-"

"Avery…" a voice drifted into her thoughts.

"But you would be a bigger butterfly…" she trailed off, unable to connect the voice to a person.

"Are you hurt?" She felt warm hands against her ice cold skin and only now did she notice that her eyes hadn't even been open. "Avery?"

Ubbe had heard her laugh while scouring the forest, an off-chance as he'd already walked through most of this side of the wood. And now that he had finally found her, he worried for her sanity, she didn't make any sense at all. She blinked her eyes open but didn't even see him, and was floppy when he pulled her from Indra. The two women had been out for over a day.

He grabbed her face to steady her. "Avery, look at me!" His voice was tight, laced with panic. He hadn't rested since the battle, since he returned to the camp, since Hendrick had come back with news of lies the Earl had spread. He owned and ruled both Keeps single handedly, and set up a ploy to split and weaken the northmen. But he had underestimated their strength in such small numbers.

Where the Earl was, was unknown for now. He'd misjudged the courage of those left at homecamp. It was a desperate move made by a desperate man in utter fear.

Ubbe looked up when Hendrick rushed over and clattered to the ground. "Indra... Indra, open your eyes, my sweet girl." He put his ear to her chest, relief washing over his features as he glanced at Ubbe. "She is alive!" And in one strong scoop, picked Indra up from the floor, the woman looking small and feeble against him.

Sighing, he slowly looked down to Avery. This time her eyes were wide with recognition, staring back so deeply, so calmly up at him.

"You would be a blue butterfly."

"What… Wha..." He smiled as he shook his head, cradling her against him. "You want to go home?"

She clung to him rawly. "What?! No! You can't send me back… There is no where… My home is here-"

"With me."

Avery calmed at once. "With you."

The colour was lost on her face. Shrouded with a hood, Avery kept her head turned to the wind, letting it sting her cheeks, the large bruise having formed over one and a slightly puffy eye while the cart she sat on bumped and groaned over the landscape. Every now and then Asger would catch her eye from next to her and smile as he drove the cart.

They were moving to the Keep, continuing on their journey. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Indra among two others resting behind them. Indra said it hurt when she held her head up; her face and head was severely bruised, including a split lip and a black eye. The other women had used elixirs Avery didn't know of to aid her, helping minutely, looking shiny on the skin. They'd smeared her cheek with the same oily substance too, but she didn't specifically find any relief, and Indra faired worse than her, so she could only imagine the pain.

Trailing behind them was Hendrick, keeping his eyes solely on Indra. And behind him rode Hvitserk, drinking from a skin.

Ubbe trotted back down the line on his horse, and Avery moved the material of the hood to cover her face. "How are you feeling?"

Avery was aching from every muscle, with barely the energy to keep her spine straight. "I'm fine."

"You don't have to lie."

"Sore," she settled for. "I've had worse though."

He didn't speak for a long moment. "I don't doubt it." Then he breathed in and out like he was about to say something but didn't know how to word it. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

"I'm getting used to fearing for my life that now it isn't even fear…" she spoke quietly. "It will never end so why fear it?"

"This was the last thing I wanted to happen. I didn't know-"

"It's not your fault, ooh bear," Avery interrupted him. "It was a good plan. It ended well regardless of what we were confronted with-"

"We?" he questioned, his turn to interrupt her.

Avery kept the material drawn over her face as she looked to him. He seemed more handsome than before; strong, alert, even through the expression of concern. "I don't see my home as a land anymore, but as the people around me. Wherever I've been it's always been the people. The land is immortal but the people are not. It will thrive far beyond us. It should be the people around that we love that we should hold close. Without them, what is there?"

"Darkness," he said, frowning. "A lot of darkness." He rubbed a thumb over his lower lip and exhaled. "Avery, I must tell you of what happened in my past so you can put your own judgment on me. So that you know what you are getting into." She shook her head to refuse. "Avery, it wasn't an option." His voice changed; deeper, one of authority.

"I want you to know that I knew my last wife would be killed and I did nothing to stop it," he blurted. "I didn't want to stop it because she went behind my back, many a time. I also fancied another that I shouldn't who brought me much trouble."

Avery was speechless, trying to process the new information.

"I haven't found an easy way to tell you, so this is me trying…" he said with an air of aggravation.

"It's fine. Then please tell me what I need to know," she said calmly. "Because you don't seem to be that man anymore. So tell me... Tell me what I need to know."

The earnesty in her voice stumped him a little, so he managed to find a place to start. "My brother Ivar punished me for not taking his side. Every night I dreamt of carving my name into conquering lands, that my own ambitions or wants did not control me, to find a seat back at my brothers table as family. It only took me the days to ride with you alone to know that I am not that type of man either. I was not the old me, nor the new one they'd created or viewed me as. And I don't want to be either of them. It does not make me happy. But you..." He then struggled, taking another deep breath.

"...I don't want anything from you."

"No."

"That is all there is to know." She still hid her face, an idea forming, though she tried to fight it. "When I lie with you will you still want me after? When I'm no longer young, when I'm old and tired. Will the longing for battle when you're finished change you? Will you take another - become bored with me?"

"Avery, I am not that kind of man." He rubbed the back of his neck quickly. "Though I can only offer you words, not actions of proof. But that is not me."

"No," she said, almost mimicking him from earlier. "Then there is nothing you need to tell me."

"When did you become so wise?" He tilted his head at her, smiling enticingly in that certain way that she had to look away, because it made her forget about her God, even if only momentarily.

He reached out to her hand in her lap. "And don't ever hide your face from me."

Hesitantly, she let the hood drop, revealing the discolouration, the redness under her eye. When she looked at him, she could see that he was trying to hide his worry behind an encouraging smile.

As if to ensure her that she was safe now, he tugged at her hand. "Do you want to ride with me, stulka?"

The words she wanted to say in reply were too suggestive, too unordinary for her. But one thing she'd realised was that life was unpredictable, and she didn't know how long she'd be granted to stay. So, already full with regrets, the last thing she wanted was adding yet another. "I want to lie with you, ooh bear."