#it’s not surprising how many younger people step away from Christianity when this is how disingenuous it is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mysticmunson · 2 years

Text

from the script; eddie munson

prompt: the preachers daughter decides to help eddie munson study shakespeare to take a glance into the life of a normal teenager. but when they become best friends, things become a tad more complicated

word count: 7.1k (whoopsies)

warning: smut (18+), religious themes, shame in regards to sex, let me know if i missed any :)

an: hi all, thank u again for 1,000 followers. i adore u all so much. i'm planning on making this a series, i'm unsure of how many parts, but yeah enjoy :)

an 2 : so this was fairly therapeutic for me as i am a spiritual christian, i was alienated and judged by church so i stepped away from it. (esp bc im queer so) but it was very interesting to dive into the shame that comes with growing up.

Friendships always seemed to sprout in strange places for Eddie Munson. He was a proud embracer of the obscure and strange, collecting a group of friends that stuck out amongst the town of Hawkins, Indiana. He loved his relationships with them, they were unabashedly themselves despite the judgment of fellow students or older people who didn’t understand. He shrugged it off, choosing to make his own little family inside the chaos.

Your family was known across the small town, your father had been the pastor at the central church since you were in diapers while your mom managed the place of worship. With a younger brother and sister, you assumed the role of the older sister/babysitter/mom figure. You were always involved in church, it was essentially your whole life besides school, and you had friends that were like family there.

You were in advanced classes in school, hanging out with church friends mostly, dodging a lot of the scandalous things of high school like sex and alcohol. While you loved your friends, you couldn’t help, but secretly long for the unknown.

You often caught yourself wondering if they ever considered taking a dip into the life of a regular 18 year old, branching outside the confines of your conditioning. While under the watchful gaze of not only your family, but the whole church, you found yourself crushing under pressure. College was on the horizon, life was speeding up, and yet, you didn’t know who you truly were outside of your relations.

When Mrs. Cain asked you to tutor Eddie, you agreed without asking your parents. You liked any opportunity to meet someone different from you, plowing through your shyness would be easier with an English book in hand.

You waited by the school's entrance after seventh period, filling out your monthly calendar with test dates and worship meetings, buying time before Eddie would arrive. You watched him exit, his boots scuffing across the concrete as he looked around. You gave a small wave when his eyes met your, putting your book in your bag and meeting him halfway. You introduced yourself briefly, sticking out a hand,

“I’m Eddie, I’ll be the biggest pain in your ass until the school year’s over.”

You shook your head, giggled, grabbing the straps of your bag. You knew he had heard of you, you had heard of him too, you wondered what he thought of you already. His eyes were boylike, kind, despite his grungy clothes that made the two of you standing side by side seem ironic. You both started walking as you suggested going to the local library, only a few blocks from school,

“Don’t mind if I smoke?” Raising a brow, holding it between his lips and hesitating lighting the stick until your okay, which you granted. You made a mental note to spray extra perfume before you walked inside your home tonight.

“I’m surprised the warden let you out of his sight, I thought he’d send a bodyguard with you when you said you’d help me.” He joked as you became flustered, you wished not everyone knew you and your family. But his words were true, your father was hesitant to let you help Eddie. You knew how to win him over though, “I fought him about it, said I would give you a Bible or something, if you wanted it.”

He chuckled as he blew out smoke, pink lips pouting out, continuing your walk in silence before reaching the destination. He grabbed the door, opening it up as the cool breeze reached your skin. You nodded, finding a quiet place to settle, finding a place in the very back. Eddie had to put out his cigarette, leaving him to trail in a few moments behind you. As he exhaled, he shook the unknowing nerves filling his chest.

He saw your pink dress swoosh in the back corner, sitting down and opening the textbook. He took his place beside you at the wooden table, looking over your shoulder, “So, the upcoming test is on Venus and Adonis by Shakespeare, it was his first published poem, that we know of, from 1593.”

Mumbling something about it being ancient under his breath, he watched as you described it passionately, “It’s about Venus, the goddess of love, and Adonis, a man who wants to hunt, but known for his beauty, and ignores her advances. She makes a whole journey to Earth to meet him, he’s uninterested, yet she remains adamant. I don’t want to spoil it all, so let's get started.” You chirped, placing the book between you two at the opening page, “Maybe we could read together, but I do the lines Venus says and you play Adonis? You’re into that roleplay stuff, right?”

The uncontained laugh rang through the library, an older woman shushing him from across the place, a hand covering your own mouth. He nodded, “Shit, I mean, something like that. I’m a dungeon master though, so I’m at a high level.” Puffing out his chest, brushing fake dust from his shoulder as you grinned,

“Sounds cool, I don’t think there's any dungeons in here though, so hunters will have to suffice.” You teased as you looked upon the creased pages, brushing hair from your face. He observed your features briefly, the first time he had been this close to you.

He watched your lips as you began reading the Modern English dialect, which always confused him to an extent, but your soft voice soothed him. He looked down at the page, realizing he needed to make a subtle attempt at grasping the content without his attraction to you derailing it.

“And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety, But rather famish them amid their plenty, Making them red and pale with fresh variety— Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty. A summer’s day will seem an hour but short, Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.” Quoting the text, Venus’ words made you bashful, “Wow, he was one horny bastard.” You smacked his arm despite his chuckle, raising his hands in surrender.

You did most of the reading at first as Venus encountered a hesitant Adonis, begging for a kiss or any affection from the beautiful man. A monologue from Venus explained her frustrations, proclaiming love in spite of the lust dripping from her lips.

The multiple stanzas had Eddie in a trance as if you were the first one to write those words, calmly leaving your mouth as if you weren’t tangling him in intrigue. Your voice halted when an older woman said they had to close early today for cleaning.

“Sorry, I didn’t know that was happening, maybe we should continue next week-” Beginning with a hushed voice, but Eddie cut you off, “How about we go to my place? We can finish it there.” Your stomach flipped at the thought of having to tell your dad you had gone back to a boys home, but you agreed calmly. You recalled that you were home alone until tomorrow morning, a church retreat that you opted out of due to upcoming exams.

This paired with his gentle nature made you feel comfortable as you walked to his trailer, ignoring the curious stares of those who saw you. You hope none would bring it up to your father, not out of shame, but out of expectation of his ignorance. He wouldn’t give Eddie a fair chance.

“Ah, not much, but it’s home.” He sighed as you walked inside his abode, taking note of the varying mugs hanging from the wall. Guiding you to his room, he haphazardly threw some stuff around to make it appear more neat, cheekily smiling as he sat on his bed. You joined him, pulling the scripts again, handing him his as he fingers grazed against your skin. Chills etched across your arms, pulling away to flip to the correct page, hoping he wasn’t aware of the effect he had on you.

He whistled absentmindedly while finding where you had left off, “Adonis finally speaks in a few pages.” He smirked at your announcement, “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” He cleared his throat dramatically before you continue,

“Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie; These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me; Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky From morn till night, even where I list to sport me. Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be That thou should think it heavy unto thee?”

Eddie couldn’t stop the blush that trailed on his cheeks at the pet name, placing a hand over his mouth in false concentration. He only realized it was his time when you looked at him expectantly, brows raised, as he stuttered out a few lines. He took a deep breath and said the words with more intensity as Adonis began his rant.

The rant was filled with rejection of Venus, striving for hunting and not to breed. He was glad the words hadn’t been so vulgar for him, knowing if they had been more lewd, he wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.

“What am I that thou shouldst contemn me this? Or what great danger dwells upon my suit? What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss? Speak, fair, but speak fair words, or else be mute. Give me one kiss, I’ll give it thee again, And one for interest if thou wilt have twain.”

The words of the hunter felt natural as he continued, your mind fixated on the way he presented himself. You thought of his Dungeons and Dragons group, how interactive and imaginative it was, having to act out different characters and concepts. If he was this intense during a reading assignment, his passion must be astonishing when he loves it.

As his rant concluded, you read the script descriptors of Venus’ cries, distraught over his negligence to her wants. While your innocence contradicted with the goddesses lust, you felt the ache to be touched as she did. Close to tears filled with need, one that wouldn’t be sedated until your wedding bed despite your body pleading for release.

The thoughts were pushed away as you sat up straighter, a nervous scratch covering your throat, “Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer. Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale”

The carnal text left you stuttering, continuing, “Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.” Venus proclaimed, yet your words fell short as you heard Eddie's failed attempt to remain collected.

He grinned, debating on whether his crass commentary would be appealing to you, “Shakespeare was writing about eating a girl out and I still didn’t pay attention!” The gasp did fall from your lips as expected, but giggling followed suit, “Believe it or not, a lot of his plays have allusions to, hm, stuff?” Trailing out the words as if he was the one with little knowledge of sex, your openess allowed his teasing, “So this is what the preachers daughter gets off to?”

You scrunched your nose, squirming in your place, “I don’t ‘get off’ to anything! Let’s just get back to the book.” Your squeak made him laugh, finding your embarrassment endearing, “Well wait a damn minute, you don’t use anything?” He questioned, eyes widening as you smoothed out your pink dress, shaking your head.

Looking at Eddie made you feel different; The way his lips and eyes looked soft this close, his voice wavering between deep and standard, but his small touches had been most enticing. You wondered what they would feel like to grasp you, plush skin under his control with no contraceptives of clothes.

The guilt of your desires sunk in, face dropping midthought, standing up to grab your bag. He looked panicked, “Hey, wait, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” His voice was affable, making you turn around from the door. You hadn’t meant for your own hesitations to make him guilty, he had done nothing wrong, so you swallowed your nerves.

“It’s not you, I swear, it’s me. I shouldn’t be thinking this way-” A faint warmth flushed beneath your skin as his breath hitched, there were only so many ways he could’ve interpreted those words.

The part of you that cleaned the pews every Sunday wished he’d drop it and let you walk out, but the part of you beneath the covers of disgrace screamed. His voice dropped an octave, “What were you thinking about? I definitely don’t think it was about some horny dude from the 1500’s.” You stifle a laugh as you stare at your shoes, focusing on your white socks, “Touch.”

The words were barely audible, but they rang in Eddie’s head like a holy hymn. He gazed at your demure demeanor, soft colored pastel against the blacks and reds across his walls.

The air was awkward, “It makes you feel guilty, doesn’t it?” He asked, you nodded and while he rarely found himself feeling sorry for someone who ‘fit in’, he felt bad. Everyone knew you as a preacher's daughter and it was ironic that the same community who looked upon her for perfection, complaining when it lacked, was the same group that wanted him out of Hawkins.

A community of people who were supposed to embrace differences met one of their own with the same judgment as an outcast, when there shouldn’t be anyone left out to begin with.

The people he surrounded himself with were experienced with vulgarity, leaving him at a loss for words at someone virtuous, “You don’t have to feel bad, ya know? It’s natural.” The words made you look up and sit on the edge of the bed, “You should do what you want to, especially if it doesn’t harm anyone else. You don’t have to please everyone all the time.”

“I want to please myself.” Blurting the words right in his face, it was too late to take them back in. While the pleasing was different in context, he immediately knew what you meant, still a bit astonished at your brassiness.

“And that’s fine! I started jerking it at 12.” Smiling as you sheepishly grinned, running a hand through your hair. You bit your lip in concentration, unsure of what conclusion you were attempting to reach as you slipped off your shoes, he looked cautiously. “I don’t know how to, really, how do you do it?”

All the air left his stomach as he attempted to calm his mind from the erection threatening to crest. He leaned against his bed frame with a pillow in his lap, just in case.

He looked down, softly chuckling, “Well, the way I do it is different from yours, if you didn’t go to sex ed.” You rolled your eyes, insisting you knew the difference between body autonomy, resting against the opposing side of his bed. “Alright, alright, I get it you passed biology. So you know what a clit is?”

He expected more apprehension at his forwardness, but you nodded, “Well that’s usually the best case scenario, there's a shitload of nerves there. Try rubbing it, keep a good pace, and, uh, reach down further to help make it, hm, more wet?” Questioning his own explanation, he tried to think of anything but you. He could see the interest in your features, like he was uncovering a mystery no one had heard of, which in your case was true, “Can I try?”

While you stuttered the words, he froze, making your heart race faster. He nodded, awaiting you to pull back and leave, pretending it never happened. But he watches your sparkling nails dip under your dress, feet planting to make your knees bent. He could see your white panties, a small wet patch in front of your cunt, forcing a groan down his throat. Your hand disappeared under the material, tentatively dipping into your neediness to drag it up to your clit. Your breath got caught as you applied subtle pressure.

As your eyes fluttered shut, a gentle moan left your glossed mouth, “That’s it. Try speeding up a bit, might help.” He was unsure if he was supposed to be coaching, but you obeyed instantly, watching your fingers trapped beneath material.

Playing with his lip, trying to dissociate the lust beneath him. He felt a bit perverted witnessing this moment, a woman discovering herself, despite it being your idea.

“Eddie.” The whimper fell naturally, but your eyes flew open and your hand pulled away. He saw your fingers glisten, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Do it again, please.” His gaze never left your slick hands as they trailed back to your underwear, working at a faster speed. He gripped the blue pillow upon his lap, knowing he was growing harder at your following whimper of his name.

Your breath matched the pattern of the circles on your nerves as you whined, avoiding his name in shame, followed by a shutter. You had been hit with your climax, continuing until it stung. He wished he could suck your hands clean, dying to know how you tasted like on both sets of lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy as you smiled, “Oh, that’s much more fun than Shakespeare.”

—-------

Eddie wasn’t sure how the days following were supposed to happen, but it seems like nothing had even happened. You came over to his trailer, studied Venus and Adonis thoroughly and whatever classes he was struggling with, and you would leave. There was no mention of your discovery on his worn mattress, just the erotic words leaving your character. The only difference is you two became friends, finding time to talk and listen to music after finishing your work.

When you would leave, he would go back to that first night in his bed, imagining more of you exposed. His thoughts were consumed by you, causing a mild hindrance on his extracurriculars like Hellfire and Corroded Coffin. For the first time, his grades were doing well, he was even accused of cheating that was contradicted by taking the test in front of the teacher alone.

He was so enamored by you, that it made him strive to please you, to see that soft smile. He was like a puppy, running up to you after the halls were empty to cheer over a C. You were always supportive, hugging him tightly where he could smell your vanilla perfume.

As you sat across from him on his bed, opening the worn book as usual, reaching the point where Adonis’ horse had run away with a fellow horse. This leaves him stranded as Venus begs for his affection, an argument ensues, causing her to faint.

“They see sex differently,” You had started to explicitly say what the two characters were inferring, “While Venus interprets Adonis beauty as his peak for procreation, Adonis believes he needs more time to develop himself. It makes you question at what age is sex scandolous or normal.The only difference is that Adonis is being pressured by Venus, in some ways tricked by her, which based on other depictions of her is odd.”

He nodded as you explained, focusing on your furrowed brows, “But that is seemingly what Shakespeare wanted, to flip the typical ways of the Greek gods. Most stories of the gods are women being pestered. Venus would, typically, never beg for a man.”

Eddie nods, too focused on you to really give the dissection too much thought. He knew you would want an answer nonetheless, “So Venus is a weirdo and Adonis doesn’t want her, but gets worried when he thinks she died?”

“Exactly. She faints, he kisses her so she wakes up, she begs him to visit tomorrow. He doesn’t want to, though, he wants to hunt a wild boar. She gets a vision of him being murdered by the boar. That’s where we’re at.”

Nodding through your recap, he watches your neck that is exposed due to your ponytail. Your skin looks soft, veins slightly prodding when you turn your head, he wishes he could kiss you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“Shit, so this boar is gonna kill him?” His eyes widened, looking down at the pages.

“Yup,” Popping the ‘P’ at the end, “But we have to listen to Venus first.” He groans, thumping his head against the wall. He played up the dramatics, despite being infatuated with your soothing voice.

Letting him begin the narrator's monologues, he watched through his peripherals as you laid on your back, placing your legs over his. He was glad you weren’t afraid to get comfortable anymore.

The scenes continued, becoming less suggestive and more dramatic. Your mind had focused on Eddie’s hands, resting on your calf, thumb stroking in slight circles. You remembered when you pleasured yourself, wishing he were the one to do it, just as he caressed you now. Biting your lip in concentration, you hadn’t realized it was your turn to read.

Curiosity did have a hold over him as he watched you, “What are you thinking about?”

Feeling a bit sheepish, you twisted to find comfort, “You’re thinking about it again.” He didn’t even need to question it after giving it a moment, knowing the same face you had those few days ago was here again.

Why was he so accustomed to your face of need, it was becoming sad that your lack of control was so apparent. You did agree to his statement silently, picking off your nail polish with nervous energy, but his warm hand covered yours. “It’s nothing to feel bad about, if it makes you feel better, I’m a horny deviant.”

Eddie was the only boy you felt comfortable around, you didn’t have to put on an act, which was ironic since a lot of your time together was spent reading a play. But you weren’t playing a perfect young woman with him.

“Can you teach me how to make a man feel happy?” Despite your timid question, it felt so eroitc as you sat up, face meere inches from his, legs still over his.

“I mean, a brand new guitar makes me horny.” Teasing as you groaned, shoving your face against his shoulder.

“Alright, alright, what do you want to know?” Damn, what didn’t you want to know.

“There’s a boy, I want to learn how to pleasure him.” His heart sank a bit, unsure who you were even speaking of, but he agreed. He may be a practice run, but it was better to experience you for a few moments, than not at all.

“Well, there’s a few ways. What do you want to do?” You looked at him, eyes wide and kind as you shifted to sit on him. Straddling his thighs, you placed your hands on his belt.

“Is this okay?” You questioned quietly, he nodded, breathing deep as you undid his pants. Rubbing his growing bulge over his black boxers, “Do you want to feel good too?” He asked, placing his hands tentatively on your hips.

Mouth hanging open slightly, you nodded, but he put a finger under your chin to close your lips. “You’ll catch flies.”

He pulled you in closer, shoving his jeans to his mid thighs to give you more comfort as he rocked you back and forth against him. Sighing in relief, you placed your hands on his shoulders, looking down at your lap where your dress blocked your vision. You felt him growing harder underneath you.

He could feel you becoming wet through your thin panties, he thought about how easy he could fuck you like this, make you feel like you were both falling apart. You let out soft whimpers against his throat, the feeling of pleasuring yourself was still foreign, but you liked when Eddie would groan under you.

“Am I doing it right?” You whimpered as he gulped, nodding and accidentally flicking his hips up, causing you to squeal. “Shit, sorry.” Laughing as he watched you regained your tempo, smiling against him.

“Tell me how you feel?” Eddie asked, helping you steady your hips with his hands as you began to shake. You cried out at the feeling between your legs, tingling and warm, and the feeling of his cock through his boxers. “C’mon, tell me.”

“It feels good, really good.” Was all you could muster, fingers pressing deeper against his skin as you tried to withhold the bubbling emotions. You were becoming desperate in his lap, throwing away any inhibitions as you leaned your hands against his thighs behind you.

Rolling your hips against his, he choked out a moan, “Oh fuck” He was losing his composure as you threw your head to the side, eyes shut in bliss, “You’re doing so good, gonna make me come.”

“Please” You weren’t sure why you wanted him to come so bad, but you made it your mission with the little information you did know. You noticed how his mouth fell open when you pressed harder, having to remind yourself this started because you wanted to pleasure a partner.

With a few more forceful thrusts, he was coming and gripping your hips harsher than before. He rubbed up against you, cursing out with a groan. Lying limp against the wall, you leaned close to him until he opened his eyes.

He hadn’t come in his pants since he was a young teen, but you had just done it to him. Even worse is he would do it a million times over with you. His eyes were glossy as you placed a finger beneath his chin, pushing it up to close his mouth.

“You’ll catch flies.”

—----

“So, who’s the guy?”

You choked on a breath as you read the script, nearing the end of Venus and Adonis, “It’s Adonis, it hasn’t changed-”

“No, I mean the guy you said you were interested in and went on a date with yesterday?” Eddie asked, looking at you in your usual spot at the tail end of his bed. You were wearing a white sundress, looking more angelic than normal.

He recalled two weeks ago when you had made him come in his pants, your motive being that you wanted to learn to please a man. You felt a tad guilty knowing the guy you wanted was Eddie.

He had become your closest friend in the weeks you spent at his trailer, finding honest feelings towards him. Whenever you made friends with boys, there was usually a hidden motive by the older people at church, especially as you got older. You were 18, a few months away from graduation, and while you were unsure of your path, there were people planning it. Your family had begun discussing the idea of pairing you with another church family, The Marsh’s.

Their 21 year old son, Gregory Marsh, was in insurance, a devout member of the church and community. He was tall, hair cut short, but not quite shaved. He always had a clean face, smelling of aftershave and cologne. He was handsome, always dressing in work pants and a button up, like a real adult.

You had known Gregory since you were babies, you didn’t think of him in any special way, nowhere near how you felt with Eddie. No one made you feel how he did. But as your adulthood outside high school pended, you were expected to go steady with someone, and either go to college or become a stay at home wife to get the babies made and tended to.

You went out for ice cream with him after work and it was nice. He was kind, handsome, and even a bit funny. But it didn’t feel the same as when you were with Eddie, where everything felt so natural. You hadn’t even kissed Gregory, opting for a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Wishing you could just tell Eddie that every thought that passed in your mind was of him, you swallowed your pride, “Uh, Gregory Marsh. My parents want to set me up with him.”

He gulped, he had grown accustomed to the you outside his trailer and the you within. He knew you probably didn’t feel that strongly about Gregory, based on your body language that slouched and the nervous tick of playing with your nails.

Despite this, he nodded understandingly, “Cool. Let’s get into it.” Picking up at Adonis' monologue in an attempt to leave Venus, Eddie stood up to stretch and remained planted as he began.

“You will fall again Into your idle over-handled theme. The kiss I gave you is bestowed in vain, And all in vain you strive against the stream, For, by this black-faced night, desire’s foul nurse, Your treatise makes me like you worse and worse.” Shakespeare wrote of Adonis, but the words from the man before you stung. You wondered if he regretted the moments you shared.

Venus spends the night weeping after Adonis flees, a sick feeling of abandonment taunting your stomach at the thought of this coming true for you. While you two hadn’t kissed, you had both seen each other orgasm inside clothes. When Venus sleeps, she wakes to beg for his safety so you stand to recite it in front of him.

“O thou clear god and patron of all light, From whom each lamp and shining star doth borrow The beauteous influence that makes him bright, There lives a son that sucked an earthly mother May lend thee light, as thou dost lend to other.” Eddie wanted to snicker at the line about breastfeeding, but looked to see you before him. He was still caught off guard by your gentle nature, like for moments he would forget.

As they read, wandering around the room, eyes glued to the pages as Venus runs to find Adonis. She approaches to find him dead, while you both had known it was coming, the words felt weighted in real time.

“Since thou art dead, lo, here I prophesy” The text began, “Sorrow on love hereafter shall attend; It shall be waited on with jealousy, Find sweet beginning but unsavory end, Ne’er settled equally, but high or low, That all love’s pleasure shall not match his woe.”

With the words of unwavering affection leaving your lips, Eddie’s eyes met just inches away. The words were honest, you weren’t sure there was any emotion close to this. He tried to snap out of his trance, but only found himself approaching.

He tucked hair behind your ear, “Can we talk about my favorite scene?” You agreed, breath subsiding as his fingers trailed against your neck. He was so close to you.

“Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.”

The way he quoted the centuries old text made you believe he lived and breathed it. He was rarely serious, but he was now. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed against yours to focus on the other side of your neck, wishing he would just kiss you.

“Stray lower.” He mumbled, hovering his hands over your hips while making an invisible path against your throat with his mouth. His lips didn’t pucker despite the want to.

“Stray lower.” You responded meekly, his hand going down to push the hem of your dress up. He walked you back to his bed, letting you fall against it as he knelt before you. You rested on your elbows, peering down at him as he kept eye contact and they only departed when he pulled your panties down.

“Fuck me.” He mumbled, swiping his thumb against your folds that were becoming slick. You shivered at the foreign feeling, trying to focus on anything, but the fact Eddie was on his knees for you.

You weren’t even entirely sure what he was going to do as he spread your legs further, groaning. He began rubbing your clit in small circles, testing the waters to hear you gasp. He watched as your pussy fluttered, becoming more soaked with every stroke.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asked, watching as you attempted to make eye contact only to look away with a pleasant sigh. “Good.” You stuttered as he slipped a finger inside you, clenching at the sudden intrusion.

“Did he touch you like this?” He questioned, skimming the sensitive area inside of you. You shook your head, whimpering as he placed another finger in. His thumb left your clit as his mouth immediately attached itself causing you to choke on your own breath.

“N-No ones touched me, I haven’t even kissed anyone.” He snickered against your clit, sending vibrations in your body while flushing with embarrassment. “You let me spread your legs before your first kiss? You’re gonna kill me.”

You whined as the feeling became more intense, a slight throb in your lower half as Eddie continued to please you. He felt you beginning to tense and sped his pace, glancing up to your blissed face.

He couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone seeing you like this. He had never had a real girlfriend, but he had never felt this urge to protect, even with one night stands. He wanted you all to himself.

“Shit.” Your voice cried quietly as you rode out your climax, trembling with sensitivity. Eddie’s face rose, a surprised, yet happy, expression as he straddled you on the bed. He made sure to hover over your hips, but looked down at you, out stretching his arms as far as they could go.

“You just cursed! I made you come and curse!” He laughed, tilting his head back, knowing he was making you even more flustered. “I, Eddie the Banished, made the holy one curse. That’s it! The skys gonna fall, the floods and the droughts are coming. Didn’t know the end of the world would feel this great.”

You giggled at his rambling, covering your face with your elbow as he finished his rant. He pulled it away, face close to yours as he grinned, expecting himself to tease you once more. But the grin slowly fell as you stared at each other.

He wanted to kiss you more than ever, looking fucked out and needy. He thought he was going to until nerves got the best of him, laying beside you on his bed. Your breathing was still deep as you shut your eyes, trying to regain composure.

“So…” He trailed off, leaning against his elbow to look at you open your eyes, “Did I corrupt your mind with the art of cunnilingus.”

“Is that the only big word you know?” You teased, his eyes rolling with a smirk, “I know more, but I like to space them out, wins over the ladies.”

You laid there, looking up at the ceiling as he rested, perched beside you. The free hand played with the ends of your hair sprawled on his pillow, you could barely feel it.

“Do you like George?” He questioned, his face hard to read as he focused on the strands between his fingers. You froze for a moment, “He’s nice, he’ll make my parents happy.”

“Okayyy, but do you like him?” He repeated, looking down at your face, but you looked the other way. You remained silent, you didn’t want to answer. For him it was a simple question, but for you? There was a calculation behind it, it didn’t just involve your personal feelings, but everyone else's.

“You know who I like? Adonis, let’s finish, we’re almost done.” You rose from the bed, crawling over Eddie’s legs to grab your book that had fallen on the bed. He huffed, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

As you attempted to stand, you felt like a baby deer, squeaking as your legs gave out. You were able to balance yourself before falling, flattening your dress while Eddie just sat with a satisfied smirk at your state.

—-

“In her light chariot quickly is conveyed, Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.”

The final words of Shakespeare’s first work left your mouth, the silence hanging as Venus retreated in pain and Adonis laid dead. You shut the book, walking to your bag to shove it in as Eddie stood in the corner, one hand on his hip as he observed the final page.

“So that’s it.” He shut the book, tossing it on his bed. He knew he needed help with other classes, but he also knew he was doing significantly better after your help. He kind of wished he wasn’t so involved so that you could stay for more days.

“Yeah.” You announced, turning on your heels to face him, lips pursed to a straight line.

“It was good.” He stuttered, licking his lips nervously. He regretted that instantly as he still could faintly taste you from an hour before, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Yeah, it’s more fun to read with a friend. Maybe we could read the next play together?” You suggested, seeing his eyes light up as a grin snuck onto his face. Before you could even realize what was happening, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you into the air and spinning.

“I have a friend, I have a friend.” He sang as you laughed, folding over his shoulder, “And you’re about to not have one!” You yelped, using your spare hand to smack his lower back.

“Hey, hey! You can’t tell me shit, I won you over, admit it. Eddie the fuckin’ Banished conquered the holy daughter.” He gloated, voice deeper in false dramatics. You fake gasped as he set you down, radiating joy from his features.

“You didn’t conquer shit!” You smacked a hand over your own mouth, both sets of eyes going wide as Eddie jumped amused. He put a pointed finger in your face, “Yes, I did! You’re cursing like a sailor!”

“No! If anything, I conquered Eddie the Banished because he is now passing his classes.” You crossed your arms, puffing up your chest as you looked him up and down. He squeezed his lips together, looking up as if in thought before lunging, tickling your sides.

Squealing and attempting to push him away, he finally stopped and bolted for his living room. When you ran after him, he stood with both hands up in protection, as if he were in a karate stance. You held your fists up, jumping back and forth like in fighting movies.

“Not to brag, Eddie the Banished, but I was forced to see Rocky twice by my dad. I’m not afraid of a fight.” This was a lie as Eddie had once watched you cry when he accidentally stepped on a lizard on the way home from school.

You both walked around the small coffee table, eyes glued to each other with eyebrows raised until he ran back to his bedroom, slamming his door.

“Eddie!” Slamming fists against his door, his back pressed on the other side to keep it shut.

“La la, can’t hear you! Don’t want to get beat up by Miss Rocky out there.” He strained his voice loudly, covering his ears with his fingers. You pretended to walk away, marching in place and letting them fall quiet. He timidly opened the door to you pushing through, falling right into his chest, pushing past him to give you space.

A strand of hair stuck to your lip gloss as you cheered, pulling it away, “I did it, I did it!”

Eddie placed the back of his palm against his forehead, grabbing his chest with the other before falling in a melodramatic fashion. He moved both hands to fake a sword going into his abdomen, back arching before arms flailed to his side.

“She got me, it’s over, all that reading for nothing.” He breathlessly whispered, closing his eyes, sticking his tongue out to the side. You got a random drum stick from his dresser counter, poking his stomach as he howled, pulling it towards him to take you to the floor with him.

“Eddie the Banished has the last laugh,” You draped a hand over your forehead as he had, “Miss Rocky is dead by drumstick persuasion.” He clutched you to his chest and rolled over, going dead weight as you whined his name.

“Nope, you’re dead, sorry.” He muffled against his floor, head over your shoulder. You hated the fact that his stupidity was leaving you craving more, his hair right near your nose where you could smell his shampoo.

“Your hair smells like the beach.” You hummed, he popped up with a mix of bewilderment and delightment, sitting up next to you.

“You talk a lot for a dead person, ya know?” He quipped, trying to ignore your sweet comment in favor of your usual banter.

“I resurrected myself.” You shrugged, lifting your back from his stiff floor.

“Uh, no, can’t do that.”

“Well I just did, so.” You stated flatly, standing up and grabbing your bag that had fallen off during your brawl, only halting when you felt arms grabbing your leg.

“You wouldn’t leave me here to rot, would you?” He gave you his best puppy eyes, which wasn’t hard as they looked so soft normally. You found your favorite color within his iris’.

“You killed me!” You exclaimed, attempting to shake him off as he looked offended.

“It was pure self defense, sweetheart, can’t be running up on a dungeon master like that.” He explained, standing up to look at your astonished face.

“You’re not very good at being a dungeon master then…” You exaggerated, his face falling while his eyes squinted, shaking his head. Although it was all in good spirits, his glance made you want to squirm, he had such a hold of you.

“Oh you’ll regret that.” He taunted, raising his hands to sweep against your sides again, but only jolting towards you to see you run to his living room once more. He clapped, pumping his fists with victory as you meekly waved.

“Bye Eddie.” You beamed, turning to walk out his door as he said his goodbye, following your typical route.

His heart continued to race as he stood in silence, peaking out his window shades to see you walking. He teared himself away, walking back to his bed to flop on top of his covers, smiling at the thought of the next assignment.

------

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@masterofmunson @downbythebay4 @wicked-wordy-witchy-witch @femalefilmaker @wiltedwonderland @yourthebrokengirl @jessyballet @iheartyouyou @gloryekaterina @missscarlettangel @variety-fangirl @wigglywoos59 @imsuchafriggensimp @thegirlblogstuff @lovelyladymayyy

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Snow and Song Chapter 5

About five seconds after Danny registered the huge crowd of people gathered in the park (and why were they there? Had there been some kind of event he forgot about?), it began to snow. Danny looked around himself in alarm. He was often insensitive to temperature changes (and a few other things, according to his sister), but it wasn’t nearly cold enough snow. It was September.

He looked up. There weren’t even any clouds.

A snowflake, perfect and crystalline, stuck to his eyelash.

Alright. When something weird and unnatural started to happen in Amity Park, usually there was a ghost involved. All Danny had to do was find the ghost causing it to… snow…

Oh. Right. He was a ghost that could make snow.

He was an idiot. He hadn’t even noticed his core activating. His cheeks flushed with cold. This was so embarrassing.

Wincing, he looked back down at the crowd. Only about a tenth of the people had phones in their hands, winking camera lenses pointed up at him, but that was more than enough. He felt entirely too visible.

… Which he could fix because he was a ghost, darn it, something that he kept forgetting about tonight. Berating himself, he adjusted his visibility down to zero and flew away.

Almost at once, all the birds took off, the sound of wings obscuring whatever the humans down below were saying.

Danny didn’t stop until he got home, trailing snow all the while. He was not looking forward to tomorrow, but for tonight, maybe, he could forget what had happened.

He went human, phased off his clothes, laid down on his bed, closed his eyes, and started to-

“Maddie!” shouted Jack. “The ghost-kid is on TV again! He’s in the park!”

“Oh, good! Go start up the GAV! This time, we’ll catch him! I’ll be with you in a minute!”

Danny let out the breath he had been holding since his dad startled him from his doze in a long sigh. He resigned himself to being woken up at least once more that night.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through Danny’s window brought with them something that would have chilled Danny to the core if his core weren’t naturally frosty.

Music.

He peeled his eyes open slowly, grudgingly, because it was still September, and sunrise was still quite a bit before the time he had to get up in the morning. Hoping he was hallucinating, he trudged over to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Ah, yes. He hadn’t quite expected to find a bunch of cultists standing outside his house with a boombox, playing back a rather scratchy version of Tale as Old as Time, but, somehow, he was unsurprised to do so. What exactly were they attempting to accomplish here?

One of the younger (about six years old) cultists waved up at him. Resigned, Danny waved back, then let the curtain fall back down.

He rubbed his eyes. Normal teenagers didn’t have to deal with cults that worshiped them as a god. Even that dude from Nazareth was a full adult before he got hit with the heavy stuff.

(Yeah, because it wasn’t at all a sign of megalomania, mental instability, or good old-fashioned insanity to compare himself to that guy.)

(He didn’t want a cult, darn it.)

What did they want, anyway?

He got dressed and started downstairs. To his horror (but again, not surprise) he heard more music emanating from the kitchen.

“What are you guys doing?” Danny asked.

“Oh, morning, Danno!” boomed Jack.

“Shh, shh,” said Maddie. “We need to go over that last part again. There are pancakes on the stove, sweetie.”

“Oh,” said Danny. “Thanks. But, really, what are you doing?”

“Analyzing the sound patterns of Phantom’s voice!” said Jack. “We missed it before, but he must have a low-level mind control power! Just like that Rockstar ghost!”

“Sneaky post-human ectoplasm glob,” muttered Maddie. “That’s how he’s got so many people on his side. He’s brainwashing them. But don’t worry, sweetie. As soon as we figure out how he’s doing it, we’ll be working on a cure!”

“Well,” said Danny, trying not to sound bitter. They had made him pancakes. “That’s news to me.”

Danny stepped out of the house and sighed in the general direction of the cult.

As always, acknowledging them in any way shape or form proved to be a mistake. They rushed at him.

“Daniel Fenton,” intoned today’s leader, a man wearing robes colored in an approximation of Phantom’s suit. His beard was… interesting.

“What?” asked Danny. If only there was a way to skip through awkward conversations like this, like there was in video games. But, no, life was like one, huge, un-skippable cutscene. Tragic.

“Last night, our Lord Phantom gave us a message. A message, and a divine task.”

Danny was pretty sure he’d remember that. “What task?” he asked, resigned.

“To spread his word through song! And you, his prophet, his chosen, his blessed consort, shall reveal his intent upon the stage of the Casper High School Musical!”

“I’m begging you, call it anything but that.”

“We will do anything to make the Casper High School Musical go well! We are at your command!”

“Please stop picketing my house and harassing me on the way to school.”

“We have fine members of our choir here to audition for you! Please take word of their worthiness to our Lord Phantom.”

Several of the cultists began to sing.

“Danny!” called Jazz from the driveway. “Stop feeding the cultists, or we’re going to be late for school!”

“So,” said Sam. “The Ghost Watch feed blew up last night.”

“I know,” said Danny. “I feel so stupid.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” said Tucker. “But we really do have to put some time aside to test whether or not you really do have a pied piper ability.”

“I made it snow while I was singing,” said Danny.

“Ah. We’ll have to look into that, too,” said Tucker, making a note on his PDA. “Who wants to bet that the ‘Phan Club’ will try to incorporate last nights performance into the play somehow?”

“That’s not funny,” said Danny, closing his locker. “Guys, what if I accidently mind control the audience? Or start a snowstorm inside? The cultists are already on top of this. They were outside my house this morning.”

“Again?” said Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, again.”

“What did they want?”

“They seem to think that there’s going to be some kind of revelation in the play,” said Danny. He caught the look in Sam’s eye. “Sam. No.”

“Sam, yes.”

“Cults are not a toy,” cautioned Danny.

“Not the way you’re using them, they aren’t.”

“Seriously, Sam. No matter how much you want to change the world, do not use a cult to do it. It never goes well.”

“Christianity started off as a cult.”

“And would you say that went well? I’m asking you this as a Christian.”

“Are you a Christian?” asked Tucker. “I’ve never seen you in a church. Can you go in a church? Have we tested that?”

“I—What? I’m not a demon, Tucker. I went to church, uh… Last Easter. I can totally go in a church.”

“You had to think of that for an awfully long time.”

“What about a synagogue?” asked Sam. “Or a mosque?”

“I don’t know. But you’d think that if I could go into a church, that’d mean I could go into the other ones.”

“But what if you couldn’t?” asked Sam. “Would that mean that religion is more right than the others?”

“Or more wrong,” said Tucker, “since Danny is a good guy.”

“I—” started Danny.

“PHANTOM!” screamed Wes from down the hall, interrupting whatever revelation Danny could potentially have had.

“Oh, great,” said Danny. “I’m not Phantom, Weston!”

“Kids,” said Miss Lyn, poking her head into the hallway. “Please don’t shout in the halls. Class is about to start.”

“I have proof, this time!” crowed Wes. “I have video.”

“Oh, no,” said Danny, with perfectly flat affect. “Are you here to harass me with yet another badly photoshopped, grainy, vertically filmed, twenty-second clip of me ‘transforming’ into Phantom like some kind of anime heroine?”

Wes reared back, face coloring and nostrils flaring.

Danny would feel worse about what he had said, if half the videos in Wes’s last ‘Fenton is Phantom’ presentation hadn’t been exactly that. Tucker had made several of them and stealthily dropped them in various chat rooms for Wes to find, as something halfway between a joke and an exercise in misdirection.

As soon as Wes had included one of those in his presentation, it was doomed to be a laughingstock. Again, Danny almost felt bad.

“No!” said Wes. He puffed his chest out. “From Ghost Watch!”

“Uh huh.”

“I kind of feel like we’d be hearing about it from more than just you,” said Sam.

“Yeah,” agreed Tucker. “If the news decided Danny was Phantom’s dead twin or whatever, you’d think some of his groupies would be swarming.” He pointed at a pair of Phan Club members who were having a sedate conversation near the water fountain. “Where are the groupies, Wes?”

“Did you not learn your lesson from the beauty pageant?” asked Sam. “Or Egypt?”

“I don’t know, didn’t you learn yours from Desiree?”

“Who’s learning what from Desiree? Because you should ask her for a better naming sense. I mean, you just copied. Lame.”

“You’re talking to me about copying? You vegans are the copiers! Vegetable burgers, tofurkey, where does it end?”

“With the abolition of the cruelty of MEAT!”

At this point, most people would have started edging away from Sam and Tucker’s patented and infamous meat vs. veggies argument. However, Wes had long since proven himself to be of sterner stuff, and Danny wanted to hear what he was on about.

“Guys,” he said, “guys, it’s not working. He’s still here.”

Sam and Tucker turned back towards Wes. “Bummer,” said Sam.

“Yeah, Wes, why do you have to be such a bummer?” asked Tucker.

“Let him speak,” said Danny, magnanimously, twirling his hand.

Wes glowered. “Well, now I don’t want to,” he said, mulishly.

“Come on, Wes, what’s the video, don’t leave us in suspense!”

Wes attempted to glower harder but failed. Grudgingly, he held up his phone, which did, indeed, play a video from Ghost Watch. Danny watched himself singing for several long seconds before returning his gaze to Wes.

“I’m not sure what this is supposed to prove.”

“The song, you idiot! It’s from Beauty and the Beast! And I know the drama club gave you that music.”

“A movie that thousands of thousands of people have watched and know the music for?”

“That doesn’t matter! You’re the only one who has any reason to sing it.”

“You mean, other than everyone else in the drama club?” asked Sam, bored.

“Or anyone who likes Disney?” said Tucker.

Wes opened his mouth to make some kind of riposte.

The warning bell rang.

He closed his mouth. “I’m watching you, Fenton!”

“You and everyone else,” muttered Danny as Wes retreated down the hallway, pointing at him.

Why was everyone around him so ridiculous?

“We’re doing Snow White, not Beauty and the Beast!” howled Razor, baring his teeth at the hapless Phan Club member that had suggested adding ‘Tale as Old as Time’ to the song list.

“If you guys had taken that bet, I’d have so much money right now,” said Tucker.

“Students, please,” said Mr. Lancer. “We can’t have any actual copyrighted music in our play. Not without paying for it. And I’m not negotiating with Disney.” He looked into the distance. “Not again. Never again.”

Danny did not want to know the story behind that, but nevertheless, he had to ask… “Are you okay, Mr. Lancer?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer. “Thank you for asking. In any case, my lovely drama students! Today, we are going to do our first round of auditions!”

“But, sir, we haven’t finished the script, yet!” protested Mikey.

“Right you are!” said Mr. Lancer. “But I have found that things go more smoothly when we have people already in the main roles. There’s less… outright sabotage and script jockeying.”

“What does that even mean?” whispered Samhain (aka Kevin) loudly.

“People trying to change the script to fit a certain person so that person gets the role,” said Paulina. “Or exclude a certain person. Which I would never do, Mr. Lancer.”

The covetous glare shot in Danny’s direction indicated that Paulina’s words might have been less than truthful.

Mr. Lancer chuckled. “I didn’t think you would, Miss Sanchez!” He began writing on his whiteboard. “Now, we already have our Prince Snow White, our Princess Charming, and our Evil Queen.” He nodded at Paulina as he wrote the roles on the board. “Now, we need our seven dwarves—”

“Ghosts!”

“Excuse me, yes, ghosts. Thank you, Mr. Baxter. Our Huntsman—”

“Or woman!”

“Yes, thank you, Miss Thunder,” said Mr. Lancer. “Huntsman, or Huntswoman. And… Let’s see… Snow White’s parents, for the prologue, Princess Charming’s retinue, and… I think that’s it. Alright, let’s start with the ghosts.”

“Shouldn’t they have names?” asked Mia.

“Well, sure,” said Mr. Lancer. “But we can’t use the Disney names. You’ll have to come up with your own.”

“Phantom!” screamed Paulina.

“Here we go,” said Danny, burying his head in his hands.

“You want to bet that we’re going to wind up with your whole rogue’s gallery?” asked Tucker.

“If you need money, Tucker,” said Sam, “you just have to ask. Rates on my loans are very reasonable.”

“Isn’t usury against your religion?” asked Tucker.

“Nope,” said Sam. “Not at all.”

“I am incredibly against this development,” said Danny. “The cults are going to have a field day.”

“Ember! Ember! Ember!” Chanted the punk goth crowd, which had split off from the larger goth subgroup.

“I am somehow even more against this development,” muttered Danny. “Mr. Lancer! I don’t think it’s a good idea to include a ghost who gets power from people saying her name!”

“Shut up, Fentonnage, what do you know about ghosts?”

“My parents study them. I know a lot. More than I ever even—”

Danny narrowly dodged the workbook Dash flung at him.

“Mr. Baxter!” scolded Mr. Lancer.

Sadly, when everything shook out, Danny did not get his way. One of the seven ghosts was named Ember and was going to be played by Star. Because why not?

“At least the Box Ghost and the Lunch Lady aren’t on the list,” said Sam.

“But ‘Hamlet, father of Hamlet,’ is,” said Danny. “Why does that bother me more than Ember?”

“Because you hate Shakespeare?”

“No, I don’t,” protested Danny. “Shakespeare is a perfectly nice person. I just don’t like how his writing is taught in schools.”

“You’re going to break Mr. Lancer’s heart saying stuff like that,” said Tucker.

“He wrote love poems to boys. Why do they skim over that?”

“Excellent point, Mr. Fenton!” exclaimed Mr. Lancer, who had somehow materialized behind them. “Shakespeare was definitely bisexual. I wi—” The teacher stopped. “Nope, can’t use that word. It would be nice if the state let me teach it like that. Along with the crossdressing. School board won’t let me.” He shook his head. “Dale Baxter. Someday, someday he’ll lose an election. Eventually.” He took a deep breath. “Next time we meet, we’ll be doing auditions, okay? I want you all to think about what parts you would like! And, Miss Gray, I’d like to have a word with you about your role in our production, alright?”

#Danny Phantom #snow and song #fic #my fic #phanfic

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lisinfleur · 3 years

Text

In your arms

The request:

Author’s Notes | Fuck the whole universe. I can't see that shitty ending for our pup and not doing anything about this. So, here is the first of the many things I'll write to correct what made us bleed in this last season of our beloved show! Hope you guys like it! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Reader Info | Viking age AU, fixing plot AU, requested by anon. Words | 2941 ⁑ Warnings: Spoilers ahead. Mention to major character’s death, some angst.

"No brother! You've done your work! Do not interfere anymore. All my life has been a preparation for this moment. Stay back."

The sound of Ivar's voice and their last conversation for a long time populated his mind.

The many times they'd tried to reach for each other's ends and failed miserably made sense all at once in a single sentence.

"I could never kill you..."

What was left untold for their whole life, finally spoken.

"I love you. Now go. Go!"

Screams of strength and bravery overcame Ivar's final words of fear in Hvitserk's mind.

"Are we afraid of the death? No!"

For days he laid among the Christians after burying his brother like a true Viking lord, ensuring whoever was to find his grave would know what his brother wanted...

"Here is the grave of the most famous Viking that ever lived!"

The last promise he made before his little brother's eyes were lost from his to go into the golden doors he wasn't able to see, but was sure were open for Ivar to enter, engraved in his mind as if they were marked by fire.

"No one will ever forget Ivar, the Boneless."

He had to do it. He had to push forward his brother's legacy and what better way than doing what Ivar intended when they came back to stand on those cursed lands once again? Those poisonous lands that took his father, two of his little brothers, and the memory of the older one from who he separated in that place. That terrible place.

He would burn that place to ashes! And then he would spread those ashes over Ivar's grave like a gift to his brother's memory.

And so... He would come home. To fulfill one last promise also marked on fire in his mind and his heart.

"I'll come back, Y/N. I'll come back to you."

He had just found you after the many years of tragedy in his life. So, you became his secret in Kattegat. A secret he didn't tell not even to his beloved little brother, afraid somehow Ivar's hands could reach and rip his heart from his chest one more time.

You served his tables when he was younger and became a free woman since no one was caring about the fleeing slaves in the middle of that whole war he and his brothers fought with each other. But you'd never forgotten him and when he came back with his brother under the angry words of the town, you came after him, spoke of long-gone times and memories. And you offered your services for him who was once a good master in exchange for his mercy since now you were lost and helpless in the middle of the confusion Kattegat had become with so many rulers in so little time.

It didn't take too long for him to see you were a gift the gods had blessed him with. In a matter of days, his heart was bent.

To fall in love with you was easy. To leave you at the cabin when the time to leave had come was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

You cried in his chest and he could still remember how hard it was to hold your tears. He knew it could be his last battle... You knew he could never come back from that trip. But they had to do it.

You couldn't argue with his fate.

You couldn't beg him to stay.

So, you made him promise he would come back to you and swore you would wait for him. To warrant his promise was real, he left his recently recovered arm ring in your hands.

His fingers touched the pendant on his chest. Another hacksilver, placed alongside the one he had earned from his father on his necklace. You had given that pendant to him saying you wanted it back and so, he would have to come back to give it back to you.

Sometimes Hvitserk would wonder what was in your mind now. He knew the news of Ivar's defeat and Harald's death had reached Kattegat at that point. Would they say he was dead as well? Did they know he was a prisoner for so long?

Would you be there, waiting for him yet?

Promises were promises. Things were close to an end.

Hvitserk stopped a moment to admire his little brother's mind and toughness once again: it was hard as fuck to play games with the Christians and mislead them was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Hvitserk was a berserker. The mindless battle was his favorite game and those mental games were Ivar's specialty.

Maybe it was why he decided to do it that way.

Ivar's way.

It was his brother's legacy after all.

For months he had played the Christian. He accepted that stupid baptism and walked with a cross around his neck. He spoke meekly and accepted that stupid name they gave him as if it could erase everything he was and would ever be.

From behind, his crows were cawing at the Dane kings' ears at the settlement beside Wessex, remembering them he himself was also a son of Ragnar, fated to Valhalla, who, unlike Ubbe, wanted those lands entirely to their people as a fair payment for the lives those Christians had stolen from them.

Ragnar Loðbrók.

Harald Finehair.

Ivar, the Boneless.

The whole unavenged settlement prince Aethelwulf had destroyed years ago in time...

Their blood was considered a fair price for his people to rise. The position of third Dane king, abandoned by his older brother, was a vacancy Hvitserk was considered fitting to occupy.

Under the mantle of lies and with the night by his side, Hvitserk dressed his armor once again and headed up to the doors of the Royal Villa to open them to his people like once his brother Ubbe had opened the gates of York for them to enter.

Standing in the middle of the gates as the army of Vikings invaded the town, Hvitserk could almost hear his brother's voice screaming and the sound of that unmistakable chariot filling the air as if Ivar was riding with them into the Royal Villa, conquering what he wasn't able to see falling in front of his eyes.

Alfred fled with Elsewith and their child. Hvitserk spared their lives as they had spared his own. What's fair is fair and Ivar would forgive him for denying the royal blood to his vengeance, but Alfred had respected his brother's death, his grave wasn't touched and his life was preserved.

But the town was on fire, invaded and taken as Ivar once planned.

With the dawn, Hvitserk received a mark on his face to resemble his crown as the third Dane King his brother didn't want to be. But he knew he wouldn't stay as much as Ubbe didn't stay.

He was wounded and tired, but Ivar was avenged and it was time to fulfill his next promise.

"I ordered them to build a shrine for you, brother. They must start soon and the Danes ensured me they'll use the stones from the royal castle to build it around your grave," Hvitserk said, touching the stones of the simple tomb he had rose with his own hands. "They'll paint runes and make sacrifices. And this place shall be marked with your story, my brother. No one will ever forget who you were and, in the future, when they find this place, everyone will know here is the grave of the great Ivar, the Boneless, son of Ragnar Loðbrók, feared by many around the world and for whom this land fell into our hands."

His fingers caressed the stone as if he could touch Ivar's face once again.

"But now I think you know I have to go... And leave you behind, brother. For you'll be always alive in my heart, but she's waiting for me. I know I never told you anything about her... I had my reasons, you know them very well," he sighed. "I did it all for you, Ivar. And if she ever gives me a son, I'll name him after you, so he can keep telling your story throughout the years. I'll never forget you, brother. Hail and farewell, Ivar. We'll see each other again when the time comes..."

Leaving behind the first hacksilver of his necklace as a gift to his brother, Hvitserk left, mounting his horse and riding towards the docks where a Dane boat was already waiting for him, ready to take him home.

For a moment, Hvitserk placed his eyes on that land once again. Maybe it was the last time he would ever see that cursed place. Maybe one day he would come back to see Sigurd and Ivar and his father as well. Or maybe, like Ivar, he would come and die there alongside the ones he loved. The time would say. Fate would say.

He was finally coming home.

The boat took ages to make a trip he didn't remember was that long. Ingrid was the new queen and he could see the awe in her eyes when he jumped out of that boat, holding himself whole in spite of his tiredness.

"We thought you were..."

"Dead, like my brother. And your husband, I suppose," Hvitserk didn't care about cutting the queen's sentence. "Release your breath, woman. I have my own crown and have no interest in the one on your head. You're Harald's wife and he was Norway's king. This is now your problem, but still, my homelands so get used to having me walking around from time to time," he said, carelessly pointing down to the ground. "Now you excuse me, your highness... I have more important matters to treat. Spare me from feasts in your hall: The son of Ragnar may be back home, but I'm tired, exhausted... All I want is to find my woman and rest in her arms."

"Your what?"

But he left Ingrid and her whole surprise behind, walking away from the boat as the Danes were preparing to move with their trip. They wouldn't stay. He wouldn't come back, at least, for now.

If he ever had to die in those cursed lands, he would do it like his father: before growing too old.

After living his whole life.

His steps were still limping and for a moment, he giggled, remembering how Ivar had limped that whole pier under horrible words where now there were smiles and grateful faces blessing his return. Would they bless if Ivar was back as well?

Oh, they would. But his brother wanted more than just their blessings.

And he wanted more than just their words.

Hvitserk straightened his cloak. His limping steps walking through the streets with many memories, sometimes sad memories, sometimes sweet ones. And as his steps shortened the distance towards his cabin, the sweetest memories came, remembering him of his sneaky movements through those streets to find you without his little brother's eyes over him. The kisses you'd exchanged. Your hands against his skin.

His heart pounded when his eyes finally reached that door. It was still the same... The cabin was still exactly as his memories could build it in his mind. But it was silent and it, for a moment, stopped everything into Hvitserk's heart.

Could it be that the news of his death had sent you away for good?

Did he take too long to come back? Did someone tell you he was turned into a Christian and you believed it was for real?

His fingers touched the door and he hesitated before knocking on it.

What if you weren't there to answer?

What if there was another with you in his place now?

It was easier to burn down the Christians' village than it was to knock on his own house's door, but the sound of footsteps inside approaching the door turned Hvitserk's mind completely blank for a second.

The lock was opened and his eyes watched as the light from outside invaded the darkened cabin, covering your figure and showing the pale tones of your apron dress.

"Now it's not a good time, I'm..."

Your voice died into your throat. And your eyes met his in a long moment of silence where the whole world seemed to be stopped along with time itself.

Hvitserk could watch as the line of your eyes filled slowly with tears. He observed as the tears became thicker and broke the line, rolling down your face. Your beautiful face... He thought so many times he would never see you again.

You sobbed, losing the strength of your legs. And Hvitserk held you in his arms, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest once again.

It wasn't one more of his dreams. You were there.

He was home.

His scent invaded your nose and your sobs engulfed you whole as you nestled into his arms, holding him so tight that your knuckles became white against his clothes.

"Shh... Hush, my sweet love. I'm here now. I'm here with you," he mumbled as your sobs became louder.

You thought he was dead.

They told you he was dead.

You cried your soul out on that pier, begging the gods to drag your body into the waters and allow you to swim towards him into Valhalla as queen Gunnhild had done after her beloved Björn.

But instead, they held you back.

And as Hvitserk's hands cupped your face before he could seal his lips against yours, tasting your flavors he missed so bad once again, you understood why the gods had given you a reason to keep yourself alive.

It was for him. You were his gift.

And the gods had decided to bless him once more.

"I brought it back to you, my love," he said, giving your pendant back with his necklace. "The other... I left with him," he mumbled.

Eyes full of sadness for his brother you knew wouldn't come back with him.

You gave back his arm ring, caressing his hand as he smiled.

"I thought I would never see you again," he mumbled.

His warm and big hand caressing your face, drying the tears from it before you could finally speak between the sobs.

"They told us you were dead, my sweet prince. I mourned alone and wanted to follow you into Valhalla to serve your feast. But the gods forbade me. They took my freedom for it wasn't my choice anymore."

Hvitserk looked at you curious, not understanding your words until you brought him into the cabin enough for his eyes to land on the basket over his bed.

"They filled me with life and entrusted me with your legacy. I couldn't go. They made me stay. And now I understand that's because you're here, my love. You're back to me."

There weren't words in his mouth anymore.

Hvitserk's steps limped towards the bed and he sat, looking at that basket with surprise and admiration. Inside, a pair of icy blues was facing him, remembering him of so much in his life inside those little eyes.

Ragnar's eyes.

Ubbe's eyes.

Ivar's eyes...

All looking at him into the little one's orbs as his son was trying to eat his own hand, hungry like himself.

"His name is Herleifr, son of Hvitserk. For he's indeed the son of a warrior and I wanted him to know where he came from..." you mumbled as Hvitserk gently lifted the little one from the basket, holding the baby against his chest.

This time it was his eye line unable to hold back his tears as his fingers gently touched the little one's hands and face.

He had seen so much death...

He had lost so much on that trip...

His hands had buried his own little brother and burned that town to the ground, but now, they were holding his future.

Hvitserk giggled.

"Herleifr... My brother shall forgive me once again. I must have to produce another so I can name it after him as I promised," he said, making you smile at his teary face.

You came closer, caressing his cheeks, drying his tears.

"We shall take care of you, my precious prince. And so, when you're healed, we shall produce as many heirs you think you want to honor all the ones you lost and more," you smiled, feeling his hand touching your face, pulling you closer so he could kiss you that way you loved so bad.

The baby cooed in his hand when your lips separated from each other and Hvitserk smiled.

"Now I'm home... Now... I'm back where I belong," he said, touching his forehead to yours, caressing your face with his thumb. "In your arms, my love. I belong in your arms and this is my place in this world."

For a second, Hvitserk could feel Ivar's eyes over him. And he smiled remembering he could be there to watch for him.

"Valhalla will wait," he said, almost being able to hear his little brother's giggle as he caressed your face, smiling at you. "I have a whole dynasty to produce with you first."

His time to find his beloved ones at Valhalla would come, he knew that. But until there, he would enjoy his place in Miðgarð and produce as many heirs as you were up to bear for him.

His time to fight was over for now and now it was time for him to be happy. And he would, by your side.

By your side, he would.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitty #hvitserk’s heathen feast #sister wives #shot #If I already started fixing the mistakes?#SURE THING

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 24

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: sorry for the delay of this one i kept getting distracted by gilmore girls quizzes 😂 i hope you enjoy this one xx

NEXT CHAPTER

In my life, I'm no longer alone now the love in my life is so near. Find me now, find me here ...

Things had started to become boring in the Forrest household. She certainly remember Christmases being more lively and filled with magic and joy. Maybe it was because the staff was gone or because her whole magic and joy was a whole half hour away from where she was standing. She had spent most of the day making friendly conversation with several associates, trying to avoid Mr. Williams and his constant riddle mode of speaking. However, something was bothering her, it was bothering her that Sebastian had been in the house and seemingly hadn’t been around ever since her 18th, at least following whatever a very drunk Gwen could recall. She was certain that Dan was surely hiding something judging by how he seemed to change the subject whenever she questioned about his statement about her meeting Sebastian prior to when she thought, immediately moving to talk about the house in the Paris.

She could almost guess that Sebastian definitely wouldn’t say anything either considering he had rather harshly sent her off without even considering her offer. Besides, she had already gotten one voicemail from him and she didn’t feel like getting into more issues by sneaking around to ask him about something he probably wouldn’t remember.

- Gwen ... - Y/N mindlessly called out for her friend who was eating some macarons one of the guests had brought. - Do we have photos from our 18th?

- Why? - she questioned, placing another treat on her mouth.

- Well I ... I thought I would do a slideshow for your wedding. - she shrugged it off and Gwen gave her a confused look before returning to her little box of treats.

- There should be some photo albums on the attic. You better not pick any unwanted baby pictures of me, Y/N. - she pointed at her in a threatening manner but Y/N just shook it off, jumping from the seat of the kitchen.

She looked around, hoping no one was watching her which thankfully no one was as most associates had retired to Mr. Forrest’s office for cigars and mob conversations while the wives were all seemingly enchanted with Sophie. Y/N took this opportunity to sliver across the living room and into the staircase that led to the attic. She knew that no one wanted to give her answer but she was gonna figure out why it seemed like the last time Sebastian had been allowed in the house was seven years ago.

Slowly and surely yet silently, she pulled the door of the attic open, climbing the stairs into the same place she used to rush to whenever life downstairs became just too much to deal with. For safety, she closed the door and stood up looking around at the series and series of boxes and shelves present within the attic. It was after all where everything seemed to end up whenever it wasn’t needed anymore.

She focused her attention on the main shelves, going through various and various albums until she found the one she’d been looking for. Grabbing it enthusiastically, she opened the dusty album, noticing the very first picture was of a seemingly younger Sebastian standing next to Daniel. There was no fooling her eyes, however, what seemed to ring curiosity was the next page where it was a photo of her next to Gwen cutting the cake with Sebastian by Gwen’s side.

Silently, she continued to look through the photos and the more she looked the more photos where he showed up seemed to pop up. Then, out of the sudden something rather heavy fell on top of her lap which made her let out a surprised scream. Y/N put her hand over her mouth, looking up to see the family cat walking on top of some high standing albums.

- There you are. - she lifted her arms to pick the cat. - Almost killed me, Luca.

The cat continued to pace around the attic while Y/N took a rather confused look at the album. It looked much older than the other albums, full of dust with the leather cover with some rips and dents due to time passage. She bite her lip before opening it up. The very first picture was off a woman standing in front of the Palais Garnier wearing what looked like a theatrical ball gown with her hair pushed into a bun surrounded by gold strings. However, what called for Y/N’s attention was the gold necklace wrapped around her neck.

Quickly, she took her necklace off, putting it next to photo on the album. It was the same necklace, although it was small, the little robin in the middle didn’t fool her and when looking at the picture side to the necklace she just knew it was the same necklace. Her hands ripped the picture off the old paper, turning it around to see a rather quick and barely legible handwriting.

- Robin. - she whispered to herself before shoving the picture on her back pocket and placing the album pack in his shelf. Quickly, she made her way out of the attic, closing the door behind her as she went down the stairs back to where Gwen was. She was still sat on the kitchen stool now drinking a glass of rosé, happily content with her heiress lifestyle. - Gwen, can you cover for me?

- What? - the heiress slowly blinked her eyes wondering if the alcohol had travelled up to her hearing sensory. - Where are you going? Everything is closed.

- C’mon, Gwen.

- Should we negotiate? - she raised her glass. - You have to cover for me and Christian when we’re back at the penthouse.

- Weekends. - she rebutted.

- Weekends and Fridays. - Gwen glared and Y/N sighed nodding her head to which the heiress smiled triumphally.

In all honesty, Y/N did not know where she was going or what to do, all she knew is that she needed to just drive off. Stealing the keys from the plate by the door, she stepped out of the house, looking at the fluffy yet drivable snow setting and with a sigh she entered one of the drivers’ cars driving off before someone could notice she was gone.

Her eyes were on the road as she mindlessly let herself drive around still very confused as to why there was a picture of a woman named Robin using her necklace. Was that her mother? She didn’t know, all she knew is that mindlessly or not she had ended up driving to where, subconsciously, she would rather be.

Stepping out of the car, she greeted the valet who despite being Christmas and cold was still outside and gave her a kind smile, opening the doors for her. Y/N got inside the lift, putting the code on the lift which sent her into the penthouse. Quietly, she paced inside the penthouse before sitting down on the coach looking at the ceiling trying to collect her thoughts. Maybe she shouldn’t try to find answers as whenever she looked for them, she found more questions.

- Angel? - she turned her head to the staircase where Sebastian was standing, his hair almost as shaggy as the picture she had seen the day prior. - What are you doing here? Are you hurt?

- No, I just ... I just needed a bit of a break. - she sighed, forcing a smile while he had clearly noticed as a fake one. - Too many people in the room.

- I thought you liked a full Christmas. - he smirked, walking over to her side.

- I just ... I just need some time away. - his heads went over to her quivering lip which she was trying to hide by biting on her own lip. Her signature nail pulling was also present along with her eyes standing up as if she was avoiding to cry.

- Hey ... - Sebastian sat by her side, arms wrapping around her side. - What happened?

- I'm okay, it’s really nothing. I just needed some time away from all the mob associates and Gwen and everything that comes along with it. - her head leaned against his shoulder, watching the stillness of the room filled with nothing but the sounds of the heater and the small fall of the rain against the windows.

- Did they treat you badly?

- They treat me as well as they’re able. Not their fault really. - she laughed which sounded more like sigh rather than a laugh. Sebastian didn’t take kindly to this, wishing he had never let her depart his side but yet again Y/N was her own woman and he would never force her to do something she didn’t want. He didn’t think anyone could really do as such despite her kindness looking endlessly ever lasting. - How’s your Christmas been?

- Paperwork. How’s yours?

- I think I know what my mother looked like. - her eyes locked with his, with a tint of glimmering shimmer which held the most compassionate emotion he’d ever experienced. - I found an old photo in the attic of the woman wearing the same necklace as me.

- That’s good, isn’t it? - he smiled, kissing her forehead as she struggled to find the folded up piece off her trousers, handing it over to him. He unfolded the photo which had began to age with time, the colours not as bright as they used to be but he could recognise the necklace wrapped around the woman’s neck as Y/N’s necklace. However, it was not that he first recognised. Rather, he recognised the woman’s eyes as the same as Y/N’s. The same constant kindness and glimmer which warmed the coldest of hearts. - Good to put a face to the name, I believe.

- Yeah, well I ... I should return home before they realise I’m gone. - she started to get up, but his grip on her thigh didn’t allow her to fully get up.

- Do you wanna stay here, angel? - he questioned and Y/N found it hard to fully answer. She had to go back, it wasn’t like she had a place other than the one in France to lie about and say she was staying there instead. - Don’t think too much. Do you wanna go back to the Forrest’s house?

- I ... - she scratched the back of her head, eyes moving up to the ceiling. She should want to go home, right? It’s her childhood place, it’s the place holding all her cherished Christmas memories but did she want to go back to forced laughters and faking smiles at associates, their wives and specially Mr. Williams? - No, I don’t.

- Do you want me to make arrangements for a hotel room or would you rather stay here with me, angel?

- Can I stay here? - she looked up from her sitting position, a coy like expression of her face. - If it’s okay with you.

- Angel, you can stay wherever you’d like.

- But what if I get in trouble? I don’t wanna get in trouble or upset Mr. Forrest, he’s alway ...

- Angel, you work for me. You signed my contract, I can pull you off holiday whenever I want. - he seemed to leave her for a few minutes to go make a call and Y/N continued in the coach. Opening the photo again she couldn’t help but be hypnotised by the photo, specially the look on the woman’s face. She couldn’t be any older than 30, most likely in her mid 20′s with the type of smile that makes everyone want to break into song, the type of smile that raises your cheeks up and crinkles the sides of your eyes. Her dress was black and skin tight at the bodice before it fell like a princess bowl gown. The fabric itself was embroidered with gold like thread in what looked like several flowers. Her hair was pulled back, completely up in a ballerina bun with various gold strings which called even more attention for the nestled necklace in the middle of her collarbones. Whoever that woman was, she had owned the same necklace that now rested on Y/N’s neck.

She wondered why that picture was in the attic. All Mr. Forrest had told her while growing up was that her parents had been part of his workforce and were dead. She never knew how she had died, their names or how they looked, she had never questioned him either afraid her curiosity would come out as rude. As mere workers and if Robin was her mother why would her photo be in attic? Why was she dressed in what looked like an expensive gown standing in front of an Opera House? Y/N wondered why she had never questioned it, maybe it was out of respect for Mr. Forrest, Gwen and Dan who had taken her into the family, raised her a such with as much prestige as they could. Nevertheless, even if her parents were mere workers, she would like to at least know their names or when they died, where they were buried even.

- He wasn’t very happy but you can stay. - Sebastian broke her off her thought pattern, standing behind her in the couch, hands on her shoulder which gave off a sort of warmth that made her want to forever relish in. - Look upset about it if he ever asks you.

- Thank you. - her whole face softened as her cheek leaned against his hand on her shoulder, a stark contrast between the softness of her skin to the roughed nature of his hands.

- I’ll arrange for your stuff to be picked up tomorrow. - his grip grew slightly tighter on her shoulder in a protective manner. - And if you want, we can look through my father’s old contact book. See if we find anyone named Robin there if it would put you to rest.

- You’d do that for me? - she questioned with surprise laced in her voice. He was a private person and his father before him sounded even more private. She’d heard countless stories of how ruthlessly mysterious the man was so it sat a bit uneasy on her that his son was allowing her to go through his contacts.

- I would do anything for you, angel.

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Crew of the Omen.”

A little bit from the other new alien species aboard the ship, as requested. I hope you like it :)

Tesraki

The Tesraki had all worked with humans before, but when they mean they had worked with humans, it was more like they had been around in the area where humans were working and mostly tried to stay out of their way. Between the two younger Tesraki Captio and Subit, they talked a lot about how the soldier Tesraki, Etium had been involved in the Drev war..

They weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not seeing as there were very few Tesraki who had actually survived an encounter with the Drev, but the chunk missing from his ear, and the way he seemed to show so much deference to the humans when they first stepped aboard the ship.

Than and he didn’t seem as afraid of them as the two younger Tesraki were.

And there was a lot to be afraid of

Stepping aboard the human ship, it became very clear that they were entering a different world.

They huddled together behind Etium, their ears drawn back to their heads, their tails tucked together as they stood before the massive room watching as large machines and hovering trucks rolled by. The human voices were raised, yelling up over each other in their guttural chattering call. They had been on the ship before of course, but this would be the first time the doors would be shut behind them.

A group of humans stepped past them, their large armored feet clattering against the ground, their bodies moving like lithe snakes.

There was a lot of money being moved here, and a lot of money being moved very poorly, though none of them were quite sure how to bring that up.

“New meat!”

They turned on the spot to see a human sitting cross legged atop a cargo crate. It showed them his teeth. The two younger Tesraki squealed and backed away hiding behind the older as they looked up at the grinning predator above them.

Etium seemed to be the only one who wasn’t concerned.

“M-meat.” One of them whispered

He wasn’t aware the word accountant meant something different in their culture… that being that they were going to get eaten.

The human slipped down from where he was sitting to land on the floor.

The Tesraki squealed again and backed away.

“Fresh meat is a figure of speech. Just means you are new on the ship. We don’t eat sentient lifeforms.”

They couldn’t help but notice that he left out the non-sentient lifeforms. When the humans looked at them, they looked at them hungrily, like maybe fresh meat had not been some sort of figure of speech like it was claiming. Still, they kept relatively quiet unsure of what to believe.

“Don’t listen to them, they just like to mess with people.”

The Tesraki turned in a sharp circle watching as another human came marching up through the ship long fur billowing about their head.

“They don’t mean any harm. It's just a social hazing ritual they like.”

“I am familiar.”

The two younger tesraki glanced at Etium ears pulled back.

That would have been nice to know earlier.

They looked back, watching as the doors receded into the distance, and knew they were walking into a den of predators.

Celzex

Everything here was big, very big, and it sort of managed to make them very angry. They marched onto the ship, though their marching didn’t get them more than a few feet onto the human ship before they almost got stepped on by a marching column of humans. They froze in place led by their leader who stood tall before them, the very real son of lord Celex, Lord Avex.

He waited, and they waited, for his great stature to attract the attention of the humans.

Of course, it did not take long until his presence stopped another column of humans bringing cargo in from the other side of the hanger. They drew to a halt just before the Celzex, their eyes widening in fear. A few of them made vocalizations of confusion and intimidation, that manifested as very high pitched squeals for a human. They lifted their hands before their faces and chest as if to guard themselves from the danger that the Celzex possessed.

“Lord Avex, we were told of your imminent arrival.” One of the humans announced bowing his head, “There was an…. Extensive briefing about how to treat your eminence.” They bowed their heads in that way humans tend to have to show difference towards their betters.

“Please, allow me and my comrades to escort you to your quarters.” The humans lowered themselves slightly towards the ground, dropping onto one knee, “As a sign of difference to your great status please use these men as your mounts, for the ship is large and we have a long way to go.

There was a silence as Lord Avex waited eyeing the humans with some concern.

They were a proud race.

From the corners of their eyes, the Celzex could see the humans shifting nervously, probably out of fear and awe to how great and terrible the Celzex truly were in such numbers.

“We will accept your offer, human.”

The humans prostrated themselves even further, lowering towards the ground so the Celzex could blimp aboard, first onto their knees and then onto their backs, and then onto their shoulders as they took back to their feet.

From the back of a human they were very high up, and very impressive.

Lord Avex was sure that their group cut a very imposing parade across the ship. The Celzex atop their human mounds, two of the most dangerous species in the galaxy.

And they did turn more than a few heads as they went, with wide eyes and open mouths the other humans stared and made similar sounds of awe and fear as had the others.

The humans on which they rode appeared more than smug, their head lifted pridefully clearly pleased at those they were able to carry.

It was a great honor after all, and who could blame them for thinking so.

The other humans must have been jealous to ferry along such important figures as the Celzex.

And of course they were eventually brought to their quarters on one of the middle decks. It had all the things that they requested, and promised access to a human 24/7 if required.

One of the humans bowed their head to lored Avex, “My lord, Admiral Vir was sorry he could not be here to witness your glorious arrival. He sends his deepest apologies and an invitation to a meal tonight as a human show of good faith. Also, due to his laxness and improper greeting he would be more than willing to act as your steed whenever you wish for his insolence and penance.

Lord Avex found this to be an agreeable apology.

Somewhere Adam Vir was quite pleased with himself for coming up with such a smooth reason to hold a Celzex, while continuing to maintain interspecies relations with one of the most powerful species on the planet.

Burg

Maverick was surprised to find people in the chapel when she walked aboard, less of people and more of an alien and a few people when she stepped in. She was even more surprised to find that this particular alien was not a Tesraki, or a Celex, but a bug-like creature with sharp mandibles, and an array of colorful wings.

“Burg!”

She said the phrase out loud, surprising herself and the burg, who nearly leaped out of it’s own carapace as it turned to look at her. Its wings were a pleasant blue color shot through with little streaks of brilliant green.

It rested a few of its front hands together and bowed to her as she pulled to a stop, “Greetings, I am Miran, religious scholar of the burg and a social envoy of the new king and queen of the burg homeworld. I am here to foster a mending of relations between our two species and contribute some of our knowledge and culture to your endeavors.”

Maverick lowered her hands.

“I see, I wasn’t aware that the Burg were part of the GA.”

The creature sat on one of the pews, “We are not, formally, but we have since updated our status as a protectorate of the GA while we attempt to mend things between ourselves. Forgive me for startling you so, but I had hoped that you might accept my help in your religious gathering room. During our time of war, the old queen tasked me with learning about your species, and in so doing I fell upon your thriving religious culture that reminded me of the stories of our own before the queen abolished much of our tradition.”

“A burg who is a religious scholar…. I would not have assumed that.”

“And what denomination do you frequent?” He wondered looking at her with expectant eyes and a surprisingly open face for a creature she had once thought to be hideous and gut churning. The butterfly wings helped she supposed, “A random flavor of Christian, though it’s not really important.” She walked over to sit next to the burg who was looking around their little chapel with great interest.

“Do you have a religion?”

The burg’s antenna twitched, and it clicked it’s mandibles, though the way it performs the action was less worrisome than the way that she had seen it in the past, “I do, I do. I follow the old religion, in a time where the burg believed in many gods. I Believe mostly in the gods of the east, the ones that frequent the tops of mountains and are connected with the ideals of honor, adventure, and scholarly pursuits.”

“Honor?” She asked in surprise

He sighed, “I understand it will take a while for your species to see us for what we really are rather than what our queen has led you to assume about us. But once upon a time we had a rich culture that was perpetuated on the ideals of honor and loyalty, though that loyalty was soon corrupted into the ability to hold grudges for a very long time and that bravery crossed a line into stupidity that nearly had our nation destroyed, but…. I had honestly hoped to talk about more enlightening subjects. Please, tell me more about your great culture and religious traditions.

Maverick smiled, “Where to begin…”

Finnari

The humans were so nice to them. At first they had assumed that the humans would be scary, and they had been right. The fins on the sides of their heads had flared in agitation as they saw the humans, and they had backed away in concern and worry as soon as someone had approached.

But as the humans stopped and bowed, they were surprised and the gentle way in which they moved, and even reached ou to touch the finnari in a kind way.

They were welcomed aboard the ship with open arms, and it was quickly accepted that here is where they would be safe.

Here they would be accepted.

The finnari are very trusting like that, and so had no problem when their quarters were proven to be situated right in the middle of the human quarters away from the other aliens at the center of everything. This had something to do with their role on the ship, working specifically with the psychological team (They were expected to be needed quickly) Two of them were healers, nurses by trade, and the other two worked with psychological issues, one of them was certified in a cuddle clinic as it was shown the Finnari ahd a similar impact on other creatures as the humans did.

They would be comfortable here, surrounded by all the humans where they would be safe. WHen you are friends with the wolves, there is nowhere safer to be than in the midst of their den.

And so they got to meet and to know their human comrades very quickly, invited to play games and to sit and chat, A few of the humans, less affable than the others might have attempted to be snappish or aggressive towards them, but they were quickly cut off by other humans who would not allow that sort of behavior.

They were going to get along very well aboard the ship.

Conn

There were more voices here than there ever had been before, and threw as a lot of work for him to get done. Conn had been pleased to learn that he was one of the reasons others were forced to sign a waver when boarding the ship. THey had to acknowledge his presence and tell the GA and the UNSC that they were not liable if Conn decided to share any of their personal secrets. They had to make sure that the UNSC or the GA could not be sued if Conn decided to do something stupid.

He was even more pleased to learn that many potential candidates had dropped out when hearing that he would be on the ship.

He was not, however, particularly pleased about their new mascot, a white Leviathan emblazoned on the side of the ship. The Admiral had argued that the thing had saved his life and Conn had argued that that thing had tried to eat his people in the past.

However when the Admiral pointed out that conn didn’t really care about them he hadn’t really been able to argue, and shut up despite his grouchiness.

Now he was fulfilling a role that the Admiral had given over to him rather silently.

The man hadn’t exactly asked him to do it, in fact he had specifically tried to avoid thinking about it when conn was around because he didn’t think the idea was particularly ethical.

Honestly, it was the whole reason why conn had decided to do it in the first place. If the Admiral didn’t want him to do it for ethical reasons, he was totally going to do it. In a way, Conn was sort of the defacto police force on the ship, monitoring thoughts and the minds of others as he went through trying to determine who was going to be a a problem and who was not though he didn’t mention these to the admiral just yet.

He sort of wanted to see what they were going to do, besides, the Admiral still needed to be punished.

He flated up the hall, reaching the familiar mind of the animal waffles, who he had come to familiarize hismelf with. She was very nervous when it came to leaving the commander now, worried that he was going to vanish for no good reason only to leave her alone like had done not so many months ago.

The Admiral did not plan on it, so he tried to sooth her animal mind just a little.

He floated onto the bridge and behind the man’s seat.

He knew when Adam sensed him.

And they both acknowledged each other

“Conn.”

“Admiral.”

‘Everything goes well?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The Admiral seemed pleased conflating the fact that Conn would do something if anything was ACTUALLY WRONG.

Conn was annoyed to realize he was right.

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Sgt. Hartman

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Sgt. Hartman while stationed as a nurse at the boot camp. You supposed that working in basic training was better than on the battlefield; especially since this would be your first gig as an army nurse, but the comparison did little to ease your nerves. You were still going to be taking care of a bunch of untrained men floundering around with dangerous weapons and equipment.

- Regardless of your worries, you arrived at the camp early in the morning with your bags all packed and your hands eager to do something. As you stepped outside of your car, you were met with the sight of the older man, hands behind his back and a straight, almost scowling expression on his face.

- His face softened upon seeing you; though it didn’t do much to make him any less intimidating. The man introduced himself, ushering you to follow behind him as he began to give you a tour of your “new home”. After he showed you around, you were taken into the barracks and introduced to everyone in typical Hartman fashion.

“Private cowboy, where's the infirmary,” He’d bellowed out and the man; Private Cowboy, quickly answered the shouted question. “Precisely! Now, if one of you sacks of shit gets your dick blown off by your rifle, this is who you will go and see! Is that clear?”

“Sir yes sir.” You’d nearly shouted alongside them.

- The man demanded obedience, oozed authority, and held enough power in his hands to make a persons knees buckle beneath them. He was old enough to be your father and yet, there was something about him that just drew you in.

- Unbeknownst to you, the drill sergeant was equally attracted to you as you were to him.

- Now Hartman hasn’t had to flirt for a while so he’s a bit rusty. His attempts to compliment you are stunted and awkward and he isn’t quite sure what to talk to you about. But over time he gets back into the swing of things.

- Believe it or not, he used to be quite the catch when he was younger; and while he’s a few years past what you’d probably consider his “prime”, deep down he’s still just as suave and …creative.

- It’s going to take you a while to realize exactly what he’s trying to accomplish, mainly because; in the beginning, you can’t really spend a lot of time together. He’s a busy man and even if you were to see him a lot, you most likely wouldn’t assume your superior; who’s that much older than you, is trying to hit on you. It would seem like more of a “a girl can dream” moment.

- As I mentioned before, when you’re first starting to actually get to know each other, you aren’t really able to spend a lot of time together. He decides to do something about that, requesting that you come with him and his recruits when they go to do field training or target practice; “so you can be right there if something happens to them”.

- Most of the time, you’re just sitting and watching but when he’s able to, he’ll stand by your side and make conversation, throwing in some slightly suggestive and ambiguously flirtatious comments. He doesn’t want to lay it on too thick in front of the “maggots”.

- It’s only when the two of you get some alone time together that you can have some genuine banter. You flirt light heartedly, in a way that many would perceive as joking though it’s not a joke to either of you. He teases you and you tease him right back, something he’s quite fond of.

- Well, it all comes to a head on New Years. You’re sitting in your office, finishing up some paperwork and feeling just the slightest bit homesick when you hear a knock at your door.

- It’s obviously him, and while you figured he might stop by, the champagne he’s holding is certainly a surprise. Regardless, you soon find yourself sitting on your desk with him standing beside you, the both of you a little tipsy; just enough to make you feel warm and loose.

- The remarks you exchange are a blur. All you can remember is watching in a heated daze as he leans in closer and closer until finally he seizes your lips in his. Long, slow, and slightly clumsy, the two of you kiss for what seems like forever, your arms wrapping around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips.

- It’s a few minutes past midnight when you finally break apart and you shyly wish him a happy new years, unsure of what to say besides those few words. He merely chuckles huskily and pulls you into another kiss.

- And thus begins your relationship with the master of maggots.

- Modest and reserved pda. He’s got a bit of a reputation to keep up so most of your affection is gonna happen behind closed doors.

- He may be a hard man but he’s soft with you; surprisingly so at times. If any of his cadets saw the two of you when you thought you were alone, they’d die of shock right then and there.

- Long, hard kisses.

- Swats to the butt in private. You stand before him with a beautiful bottom and expect him not to touch it? You ask too much of him. He’s only human.

- He likes to keep a hand on the small of your back. It’s sort of a show of ownership; for lack of a better word. He wants everyone to know that you’re off limits without outwardly telling them.

- He’s a fan of pet/nicknames if you couldn’t tell. You get called a lot of different things: sweetheart, honey, darling, sugartits, etc.

- He’s not a huge cuddler but he’ll sling an arm around you and let you lay your head on his arm even though it makes the appendage annoyingly fall asleep.

- He’s an old fashioned man; a Christian one at that, so a want for domesticity has been instilled in him from a young age. Let’s hope you’re willing to be a little homemaker because that’s what he’s expecting and hoping for.

- Making breakfast for him in the morning. He always gives you a “mornin sunshine” and a side hug when he walks into the kitchen.

- Straightening out his tie for him.

- Sitting on his desk and putting his hat on when he isn’t wearing it. It earns you a little smile every time you do so.

- Kisses on the temple.

- There’s going to be long stretches of time where you don’t see each other in person, it’s a part of the job and you’ll just have to accept it. It sure makes for some great reunions!

- He gets all proud whenever you praise him; especially for his medals and things of that nature. He puffs his chest out that slightest bit, straightening his shoulders as he tries to act modestly.

- Being there for all of his recruits ceremonies and congratulating him for making “another fine batch of soldiers”.

- Watching his drills in your spare time. Even if you aren’t fond of some of his particular methods of earning respect and shaping his students, you can still admire him and the power he holds.

- Like I said, you may not like some of the ways he treats some of his cadets but you sure have to stifle a laugh when you pass by every now and again. You feel like a bad person but you can’t help it; he’s a funny, raunchy man.

- Late night meetings in your office. Try to remember to lock the door behind him.

- He’s got wonderfully rough hands and that’s all I’ll say about that.

- He enjoys being able to make you laugh. He’ll tell you jokes, poke your sides, throw you over his shoulder; whatever it takes to make you giggle and squeal.

- You get away with a lot of things no one else could. You think anyone else could insult or talk back to this man without having their holes resized? No ma’am, not a chance.

- Few people are graced with his smile and you are one of those few people. It may be a small one but it still feels like an honor every time you see it.

- He’s been a drill instructor for quite a while so he’s certainly got a few stories to tell. They range from violent to embarrassing; for someone else, to just plain funny; you’ve got a tale for every mood.

- Hearing the stories behind his scars and tattoos. He likes the way you trace your fingers delicately across them while listening intently to what he has to say.

- He may or may not have gotten your name tattooed on him.

- If you want to go out and do something, he’s one old man that can handle it. He enjoys being in the great outdoors so hiking and things of that nature are right up his alley.

- Barbecues. He will tease you if you’re vegetarian or vegan; all while grilling vegetables and veggie burgers.

- He prefers dates where the two of you can be alone together. It’s nice to get away from the stupidity of his cadets and from your hectic work.

- Sitting in his lap after a long day. He likes holding your hip in his hand and giving it a light squeeze every once and a while, usually after he makes some teasing remark.

- Nighttime brandy and bourbon. It’s a nice way to wind down before bed.

- Sneaking around the camp with each other. You’ve shared several kisses behind shut blinds and secluded corners.

- Hunting, fishing and camping trips. He’s a typical middle aged man who likes to kill and you’re his girl so you’re always invited to join him.

- Getting taught how to shoot and assemble guns. He thinks it’s a skill that everyone should know, even a pretty little things like you.

- Trying to get him to ease up just a little bit; at least in some cases. He may be a professional drill instructor but you’re a professional human and you know when some people require something other than humiliation to learn.

- A jealous man. He feels a bit silly whenever he gets that burning feeling inside but he reasons that you’re his woman and he has the right; especially when it’s some young stud flirting with you. Usually, he’ll narrow his eyes at them and turn on his intimidation, asking them where they’re supposed to be and ordering them away as soon as whatever you needed to do with them is finished.

- He can always tell when you’re only trying to be nice and/or do your job so he never gets angry at you. He’ll just tell you not to be so sweet all the time and/or walk out without another word.

- A bit overprotective; he hears about anything and he makes sure to handle it. He doesn’t often use violence but his presence is enough to spook people. Rest assured, if it’s one of his cadets that’s causing problems, they’ll be running laps from sunrise to sunset.

- You get a whole lot of respect; at least to your face. No one is ever gonna start trouble with you, not when they know who you’re with. The most you’ll get is some young kid trying to push his luck but Hartman makes sure to squash that fast.

- He gets out most of his frustration at work so the two of you rarely fight; at least not aggressively. If there’s an issue then you’ll argue and resolve it within the hour, that’s just the way he is. The only time the two of you have a serious fight is when you’re adamant on trying to change the way he does things.

- If he’s upset you then he’ll apologize for that but trying to get an apology for anything else is like pulling teeth. He has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong though it isn’t too much of a problem since he rarely is in the wrong.

- He doesn’t tell you that he loves you very often but he does so on occasion, usually on your anniversary and during long goodbyes; things like that.

- As a god-fearing, old fashioned man, he intends to make an honest woman out of you as soon as he can. He’d be stupid not to.

#80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #80s movie imagines #full metal jacket x reader #full metal jacket headcanon #full metal jacket headcanons #full metal jacket imagine #Sgt. Hartman headcanons #Sgt. Hartman imagine #Sgt. Hartman headcanon

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amylillian22 · 4 years

Text

What If I Never Get Over You - Part 2 - Chris Evans Imagine

Summary: Chris finds the invitation to Y/N and Cody’s wedding and he needs to see her before the wedding as he’s ready to show her why he broke up with her unexpectedly years ago.

Word Count: 2,280

Warnings: Mentions of cheating

Author's Note: If your name is Abby or Kayla, I'm sorry. I just randomly picked two names off the top of my head for two other characters in this chapter.

[Part 1] /// [Part 3]

"Do you want anything? I'm going to the kitchen," Chris asked Scott. Scott shook his head, not taking off his eyes from the screen as the Saints we're currently beating the Patriots.

Chris quickly made a beeline to the fridge to get another beer. He grabbed a can and closed the door. He froze once he saw a wedding invitation hung on the fridge. He pulled off the magnet and got a closer look at the invitation.

Join us for the wedding of Y/N Y/L/N and Cody Christian

Chris heart dropped to his stomach as he read those words in black cursive. The beer can slipped out of Chris hand, causing it to explode once it hit the tiled floor. Scott heard the commotion and rushed to his kitchen.

"Shit," he whispered under his breath as he realized the invitation in Chris' hand. He completely forgot to hide it from his older brother before he came over.

Chris looked up at his younger brother, the invitation still in his hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know why."

"She can't-" he dropped the invitation on the kitchen counter and ran his hands through his hair. "She doesn't know the truth. She can't marry him until she knows. She deserves the truth, Scott."

"Yeah, she does. I love you, bro, but you did everything wrong with Y/N. She deserved the truth before you broke up with her without an explanation. I'm always going to support you and be there whenever you need me, but when it comes to her... I'm on her side."

"Fuck," Chris groaned as he fished out his car keys from his jean pockets. The game had just started and he only had one beer so far. He was nowhere near buzzed and was perfectly fine to drive. He's not one to walk away from a Patriots game, but he had to see Y/N.

"I gotta go to her," he walked around the spilled beer.

"Oh, don't worry! I'll clean up the mess you made!" Scott yelled out scarastically.

"Thanks!" Chris yelled back before slamming the front door.

***

Chris walked up to a small house, one he remembered fondly and had so many memories in. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He heard Y/N say 'I'm coming!'. His heart was pounding against his chest not knowing what would happen when she would see him.

She opened the door, her smile completely vanishing as she saw Chris standing at her front door with his hands in his jean pockets. She hadn't seen him since he showed up to her live show in Boston. Before then, she hadn't seen or heard from him since he dumped her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"I need you to come with me," he answered nervously. He wasn't sure if she would go anywhere with him. Maybe years ago, she would have without any hesitation; but, it's been 6 years.

"Give me one good reason why I should go anywhere with you," she crossed her arms to her chest.

"If you come with me, I promise you'll get the answers to everything that happened 6 years ago."

She stared at him. The look in his eyes were serious, but also pleading. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore. She wasn't in love him anymore. She had moved on. She was getting married in a week.

Yet.... a bigger part in her heart was telling her to go. She deserved to know the truth and finally get the closure she needed to end her chapter with him for good.

She closed the door on him. Chris let out a deep sigh, feeling defeated. He had hope. He believed she would go with him.

He turned on his heel, about to head back to his car when the door opened again. Y/N had her purse in her hand while she locked her front door with the other. She turned around to see him surprised, his lips forming a small smile.

"Hurry up before I change my mind," she said, walking pass him and towards his car.

The entire ride neither one of them said a word. Chris had his eyes focused on the road in front of him, occasionally seeing Y/N from the corner of his eye. The further he drove, the more nervous he got. Although they hadn't talked in years, it wasn't like her to not talk to him.

Y/N looked throughout the passenger's side window, never once bothering to take a peek at Chris. She was too afraid to look at him for many reasons, but she only got in the car with him for one reason: To get some answers.

They were already out of Boston and entering Cambridge. Y/N had no idea where he was taking her. Just when she was about to ask, Chris pulled up to the gate of a gated community. He pushed in a code causing the gates to open a few seconds afterwards.

"You moved?" She asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Not exactly," he said as he continued to drive. He past a couple of streets before turning down a cobblestone street. He drove a mile in before he parked in front of the small park.

The park was empty. There were no kids or adults around, which Chris was thankful for. Although he trusted the small community that lived in this gated area, he still didn't want people to witness what was about to happen.

Without saying a word, Chris turned off the car and left the keys in the ignition. He got out of the car and made his way to the swing set. Without being told, Y/N followed him and sat on the swing next to him. She looked at her feet before slowly swaying herself on the swing.

"Why are we here?" She asked. "I don't exactly know how a playground in a gated community you don't live in gives me answers I deserved years ago."

Chris let out a sigh. "I should have told you the truth. I didn't because the truth hurt me knowing you would hate me forever. The truth would have broken us... but it might have even broken you more."

Y/N stopped swinging as she heard the seriousness in his tone. Yet, he also sounded scared and somewhat sad. She didn't understand it. None of it.

"I still don't get it..." she trailed.

"Just give me a minute or two," he said as he looked down at his watch. The explanation to his break up would be arriving soon.

Y/N's mind ran with a million ideas as she stared at him. Her brain was on overdrive with the cryptic message Chris gave her. She had no idea what he was talking about.

Chris stood up as he finally saw her running towards him. His lips formed a huge smile at the sight of a beautiful six year old girl with his piercing blue eyes.

"Daddy!" She squealed as she ran up to him. Chris immediately caught her when she lunged at him. "Mommy said I get to go home with you early today! I'm so excited to spend the whole week with you!"

Chris hugged her tight and saw her mom, Abby, over her shoulder. On the drive to pick up Y/N, he not only asked if he could pick up his daughter early today, but also kindly ask her not to come to him as he was finally really to tell Y/N the truth. Obviously, Abby knew the truth. She knew Chris was dating Y/N at the time. Back then, she didn't care. Now that she's older and a mother, and although sleeping with Chris gave her the greatest blessing in life, she wish she hadn't slept with someone who was with someone else. It wasn't exactly a good example for her daughter.

"We'll call you tonight," Chris waved at Abby.

"Bye mommy!" The little girl yelled as she saw her mom walking back towards their house. She turned around to see a woman she had never seen before. "Who's this daddy?"

Chris squeezed her shoulders, "this is Y/N."

"Why is she frozen?" She asked confused as Y/N had been standing there the whole time with wide eyes and her jaw dropped.

"Y/N..." Chris gentle grabbed her elbow, causing her to snap out of her shock.

"You have a daughter..."

"He sure does!" The little girl giggled. "And I just turned 6 years old!"

"6?" Y/N paused for a second as she finally figured out the math. Chris had broken up with her 6 years ago. She was the reason Chris broke up with her. He had an affair and got someone else pregnant.

"Six?!" She asked angrily, causing the little girl stood behind her dad and wrapped her small arms around his leg.

"Yes, Y/N. Meet my daughter, Kayla," he lifted Kayla up. She had a huge smile on her adorable face, a smile very similar to Chris'.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. She looked at the little girl, and gave her a small smile. She wasn't angry at her. She did nothing wrong. If she was to be angry at anyone, it was Chris, and she was furious at him.

"It's nice to meet you, Kayla, but your dad-" she swallowed hard, not realizing it would be hard to call him that until now, "needs to get me home."

She headed towards his car. Kayla looked at her dad. "I don't think your friend likes me."

Chris sighed. "It's not you. She doesn't like me, baby girl."

"Then, I guess she's not your friend, uh?"

"Honestly, she never was," he said as he grabbed her hand and led her to his car.

***

Kayla talked about her birthday celebration at school with her friends and teacher. Then, talked about the surprise party her mom and stepdad threw on her real birthday. She asked what Chris had planned for her birthday as she was with her mom during her real birthday when he pulled up in front of Y/N's house.

"Hold that thought, baby girl," Chris said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Let me walk Y/N to the door."

"No, that's okay. You shouldn't leave her alone in the car," she said without look at him. She turned back to Kayla. "It was nice meeting you."

Y/N quickly rushed out of the Chris car. She knew he would go after her. After all these years, she still knew him best and he proved her right as she heard his car door close.

"Y/N," he called after her, climbing up the front steps two at a time.

"Don't Chris," she yelled back at the same time the front door opened.

"Babe," Cody said as he saw his fiancé walking up to him with tears in her eyes. He immediately engulfed her in a hug when she crashed into him. Looking over her shoulder, he saw a man he only heard about. The man that broke the love of his life's heart. The man who gave her so many emotions to write songs about that became platinum singles.

He didn't know what happened, but he knew it wasn't good as his fiancé quietly sobbed against his chest. He slammed the door on Chris, hoping once and for all he would be gone and out of her life forever.

"He had an affair," she said between sniffles and pulled back.

Cody noticed there was more to it as she couldn't even look at him. He pushed her hair out of her face, and gently cupped her cheeks before wiping away the fallen tears.

She cleared her throat, pushing the tightness back. "He's a father to a beautiful girl with the woman he cheated on me with."

"Oh, babe, I'm so sorry," he kissed her forehead.

"Please don't ever do that to me..." she whispered. "I can't go through that again."

Cody's hands dropped from her face and took a step back. She saw the sudden change in his face as his eyes narrowed at her. "How many times are you gonna ask me to not do something he did to you?"

"Cody-"

"I'm sick and tired of you always bringing him up. When are you gonna see that I'm not him?! I'm never gonna be like him! I'm never gonna hurt you like he did. I couldn't live with myself if I did because I love you too damn much," he sighed as he ran his hand over his face. "I'm so stupid. It's been six years..." he trailed. Y/N's heart began to thunder against her chest, not knowing where this conversation was going.

"We've been together for 2 years. We're engaged. I thought you wanted forever with me-"

"I do!" She immediately said.

He shook his head. "We can't have a future if you keep bringing your past in our lives. We sure as hell can't have a future if you keep writing songs about him and not me. You need to let it go. Move forward so we can move forward. So, think about what you want and when you decide what that is, give me a call."

Tears fell down her cheeks as she watched Cody grab his coat and walk out of their house. She felt a familiar pain, a pain she hadn't felt since Chris dumped her in the pouring rain. Except, she didn't know exactly what was the cause of her pain. Cody calling calling her out and letting her decide their future, or finding out Chris cheated on her and had a kid?

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #cody christian #cody christian imagines #cody Christian imagine

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vangoghmusings · 4 years

Text

𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

pairing: demon!tendou satori x fem!reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.1k

warnings: child abuse, religious trauma, mentions of blood, seizure, religious taboo, degradation, public sex (?), oral (receiving), fingering, unprotected intercourse

a/n: ahh here’s the first one shot of my 1k halloween event!! this story is VERY NSFW so please do not read if you are a minor. this also have mentions of child abuse and religious trauma and is VERY taboo. each story is partically inspired by a song, this one is “under your skin” by jukebox the ghost, which i have linked below. otherwise, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it!!

https://open.spotify.com/track/5oiZiF3fBLHqgTDaH0Pj7M?si=RBkk9ddxS7OMO_ZDhT85Dw

✁ ✂ ✃ 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓 ✁ ✂ ✃

Growing up in a small town had its pros and cons. The cons were plentiful. Limited things to do, small minded people, and the conservative mindset of the looming church steeple that shadowed over the town. The pro, however, was Tendou Satori.

You had met Satori when you moved to this godforsaken small town at the age of 8. Your parents moved there for work but insisted on sending you to a private school to ensure a “morally correct” upbringing. It was an ancient Christian school made of brown brick stacked up like a castle. Inside you would meet the son of the pastor, Satori himself. You were the same age, but he looked younger, paler and more shriveled, with cuts and bruises adorning his legs, some covered up by his uniform knee socks. It was common knowledge that Pastor Tendou beat his son, but it was his right after all, it always appeared to him that his son acted out with the persuasion of the devil. You feared your new surroundings and Satori feared the home he lived in. You had found solace in each other quickly.

As you grew older and closer, some things never changed. Satori often came to you crying, a new injury on his skin from his father present and so you spent the night nursing him back to health. Other weekends were spent helping him clean the tombstones of the graveyard behind the church. Once you two would finish scrubbing the moss and dirt from the stones, you’d have a picnic in the cemetery. It was oddly peaceful, laying upon the ground with each other laughing and ignoring the corpses beneath you. Picnics in the graveyard were calm, but not when your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Satori had a habit placing his head on your lap as he ate whatever was in the basket for that day. He’d look up at you with wide eyes, passionately talking about whatever was plaguing his mind that day. It was normal for his face to be bruised or cut. And you often kissed them after treating them, but when he looking up at you with such a bright smile, squinting at the sun above just enough for the cuts to break and bleed once again, you wanted to kiss them again, but differently. It felt different, you were different.

This had to be a sin.

It felt like you were being eaten alive by the thoughts that ran amok in your head. Satori was this beautifully pained angel with no escape from the constant terror that was his father. Pastor or not, he believed that Satori was filled with hellish intentions of the devil himself. And what father could be proud of a son who was the devil incarnate? Yet here you were, falling slowly, madly, deeply in love with your best friend. While his sole mission was to survive until graduation, yours had become to be able to kiss more than just his cuts and bruises.

This was definitely a sin.

You were halfway through your senior year when it happened. When you lost Satori. Every Thursday, the school held liturgy. You and Satori were the altar servers alongside Pastor Tendou. It was surprising how quickly you two could form such serious faces the moment you put on the white garments. You sat in the cushioned chairs beside Satori as his father gave a sermon. Tendou listened attentively, taking in any clue to take as an advantage to possibly get his father to love him. To prove he wasn’t a mistake or a demon.

“Now a days... the devil presents himself in many ways. From that damned technology to that blasted music...”

Pastor Tendou was known for hateful sermons. Yet, in such a small town as this, it was normal. He was so adamant about the devil in our everyday lives that felt that there was more hatred and death than the possibility of mercy.

“And the devil is within us too! We must be willing to cut off his clawed hands from us, and crush his soulless entity that hovers within-”

A throat ripping gasp cut off Pastor Tendou as his son lurched from his chair and collapsed onto the floor. You jumped back in your chair, watching as his back arched so high it didn’t seem physically possibly; a blood curdling scream filling the church coming from him. The church froze, watching in fear as the pastor’s son began to convulse. You watched in horror as his body slammed back onto the floor and he began to shake viciously. Frothing at the mouth, his eyes rolled back, and it look like his veins were about to rip through his flesh. You looked to Pastor Tendou for any sign of instruction of what to do. He was dying, you were watching him die.

Before you could shout for help, Pastor Tendou took the glass of Holy Water that was stashed in the tabernacle and poured it on Satori. The water caused his skin to sear, smoke rising from his skin like he was burning alive. More screams fell from his lips, his face only readable as pure pain. You looked away as tears streamed down your own face at seeing him in such agony.

Pastor Tendou looked down at him with narrowed eyes as his son soon stopped shaking. And then his body went utterly limp, his chest no longer rising and falling with breath. You wanted to scream, he was dead, he had to be dead. You were about to reach out for his body when his eyes shot wide open. He gasped and sat up right, looking around frantically around the church and down at his hands. His face broke into a smile as he looked at his father.

“H-he left! I’m free!”

Satori jumped up, hugging his father tightly as they both rejoiced that the devil had finally left him. It was true, that after years of never-ending abuse Satori believed that he indeed had a devil inside of him.

Pastor Tendou cupped his son’s face and kissed his head in pure joy. He let go and turned to his laypeople who watched from the pews in shock.

“REJOICE! MY SON HAS CRUSHED THE CLAWED HANDS OF SATAN!”

The people stood up and cheered, shouting amens and hallelujahs, kneeling and bowing. Satori had finally been saved. You couldn’t believe your eyes. This fake demon that was beaten into belief had suddenly up and left? And Satori needed to go to a hospital, he just had a seizure after all.

“Sato, we should get you to a hospital-”

He turned to you, swiftly taking your hands in his. It appeared that all of the cuts on his knuckles had magically disappeared. Before you could process the thought, he kissed your hands and smiled at you.

“God has saved me Y/N. I don’t need a hospital.”

You gaped at him. You knew Satori was religious because there was no escape from it in his life, but he never made outright claims about it in front of you. And now he spoke as if he was indeed possessed and was exercised.

Mass eventually ended. When Satori’s mother had gotten the news, she also leapt for joy, however, with the thought of her son having a seizure ingrained in her mind, she insisted that he go to a hospital. Once you got the okay to visit him, you took your parents car and sped over. You were frantic, worried beyond belief of what could be wrong with Satori, enough for him to proclaim freedom from a demon.

You walked into the hospital room. It had only been a day since the incident, but the room was filled to the brim with bouquets. The whole town had come to learn of Satori’s freedom. You looked at the red-haired boy sleeping soundly on the hospital bed. It was odd. HIs skin was free of his previous bruises and cuts. He was free, but maybe of physical pain, not a demon.

You sighed and moved a vase of flowers from the chair beside his bed and onto the floor, taking a seat and reaching for his hand.

“Sato,” you hummed, hoping to gently wake him up. He didn’t.

You frowned and took in his features. He looked peaceful but, paler than usual. He had always been pale, but now he simply looked sickly. The veins in his face were apparent, he looked almost translucent. Almost as if, if you tried to look hard enough, you would see the blood moving in veins. Before you could reach out to touch his cheek, his eyes fluttered open, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you.

“Y/N,” He said softly. His eyes were bright, happy to see you. Yet, his brown eyes almost had a red gleam.

“Sato!” You beamed, standing up to hug him tightly. He hummed in your embrace and held you. You sighed lightly, just glad that he was okay. “You really scared me.”

He let go and gave you a frown.

“I didn’t intend to. I’m sorry.”

“It's okay,” you mumbled, ruffling his hair. He chuckled softly and leaned into your touch. Was his voice deeper too?

“It seems that you’ve gotten quite popular Sato,” you said referencing to the room filled with flowers. He grinned and looked up at you.

“I guess people like you more when you’ve seen God.”

You froze and pulled your hand out of his hair.

“What?”

He nodded and looked at you blankly. He was very serious.

“Yes. I saw him. He-” Tendou paused, carefully deciding his words, “he’s inside of me.”

“God...God is inside of you?”

“Yes.”

You scoffed and stood up.

“Sato you sound insane.”

He glared at you.

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

You looked at him incredulously. He was so stern, brows furrowed with anger.

“I-”

“Listen to me,” He said getting up from the hospital bed. He stepped towards you, placing a firm grip on your neck with his cold hand thin hand, trapping you between the wall and his grip. You gasped; your face filled with shock. You watched as a smirk spread across his face, as he pressed his nails into your neck. You whimpered in pain, they were sharp, pointed almost.

“Y/N... God is in me, and I am God.”

You froze, watching as his eyes were undeniably crimson now.

“T-this isn’t you Sato-”

“Shut up,” He snarled.

You were right, he was paler. You could indeed see the veins in his flesh pulsing, but they were not red. They were a deep inky black.

You winced as he dug his nails further into your neck, tears prickling your eyes. Under the dim yellow lights of the hospital room, you had shrunken, like trapped mouse beneath the claw of a lion. Satori saw your tears and quickly let go.

“I-I’m so sorry Y/N...I didn’t mean to!” He cried, falling to his knees and clinging to your thigh. He sobbed into your leg and shook hard. You blinked, looking down at your best friend who had just choked you against a wall and was now sobbing against you.

“Sato get up, please...” You mumbled, afraid of what his next action would be. This was so unlike him. He was usually so bright and goofy and now he looked like something was eating him from the inside out.

He looked up at you with tear stained cheeks, trembling. You sighed and helped bring him to his feet.

“Get dressed, I brought you clothes, and I have a basket with food in the car.”

He gave a weak smile.

“Picnic?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You pulled the clothes from his bag, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel from the many times he had stayed over at your house after his father beat the pulp out of him. You set them on the bed and turned to leave. A firm grip on your arm stopped you from walking out.

“Don’t leave me,” He whispered. His voice sounded fearful and broken, like the many times he cried as you cleaned his cuts.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to do. He wanted you to stay as he changed out of his clothes. That had to be a sin. Didn’t he know that? Didn’t he know that you were burning with desire for him? It was all too much. You pulled your arm from you grip.

“I’ll just be in the hall Sato,” you said with a weak smile. His face fell and he nodded as you turned back to walk out the door.

You waited patiently in the hall, your feet tapping as you tried to collect your thoughts. In the past 24 hours, Satori had apparently had a seizure, claimed to be freed from a demon, now claimed to be God, and physically hurt you. It didn’t make any sense.

You turned your head at the sound of the door opening to see Satori, relishing in the warmth of the flannel around him.

“Picnic?” He asked with excitement.

You chuckled and nodded, walking out to your car with him.

You eventually arrived at the cemetery, your usual spot you both had found comfort in. Any stranger would call them crazy, eating among the dead. But to them, this was pure peace. They were among those who were at rest, simply waiting for their own time. You pulled into your usual parking spot, the 6th on in from the right. You grabbed the basket and walked alongside Satori to the spot in the cemetery that was open lush grass. The day was gray, but it was rare that the sun came out in your town. The spot was surrounded by 6 statues of crying Virgins. It was eerie, but to you it was a simple normality of your graveyard picnics.

Satori helped lay the blanket as you set down the picnic basket. Today you brought sandwiches and cut fruit. He gave you a bright smile and followed your cue to sit down on the blanket and get comfortable. You handed him a sandwich and he thanked you, taking a large bite. You froze, looking at his teeth and how they gnashed through the bread. They were sharp, pointed like an animal. You swallowed your bite and wiped your mouth. You had known Satori since you were 8 years old, had you truly never noticed his red eyes, sharp nails and pointed teeth? HIs paleness and inky black veins? His sudden strength and rage?

“How many people do you think could fit under your skin?”

You blinked, being brought out of your daze by your friend’s sudden question.

“What-”

“I think I could fit at least two people under my skin. Physically. However, emotionally, plenty of people get under my skin realistically.”

“Sato...what are you talking about?”

It was sudden and unexpected, the way he jumped on top of you. He knocked the wind out of you with how forceful the impact was of your back slamming against the ground. You coughed and looked at him in terror. This was not the meek and gentle Satori you had grown up with and this surely wasn’t God either.

Satori pinned your wrists to the ground and used his own legs to keep yours down. You didn’t bother struggling, he was too strong. And the sinful part of your mind had envisioned this position one too many times for you to fight back.

“I said, how many people do you think you could fit under your skin?”

“I-I don’t know,” You whimpered in fear. This fear felt wrong though, this fear caused your legs to try and pinch together. Sinful.

“You’re pitiful,” Satori growled, his eyes gleaming a deep red. The frown quickly turned into a smirk as he watched you begin to squirm under his weight. “Do you think I’m stupid, Y/N?”

“N-No, Sato-”

He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips.

“Are you sure? Cause you’re a terrible liar.”

You froze, fear crippling you in your spot. Satori’s smirk stayed in its spot as he let go of one of your wrists, only to grab a firm grip of your thigh. You yelped and looked at him with wide eyes.

“You’re a sinner Y/N. That’s why we need to cleanse your soul.”

“Cleanse my soul?”

Satori nodded; clear he was being completely serious.

“Oh,” you mumbled, unsure what ‘cleansing your soul’ would entail. He gave you a gently smile and let go of your thigh to softly stroke your cheek.

“I can save you.”

He smiled brightly, it looked like it was supposed to be caring but, with how he had pinned your body to the ground, you couldn’t be sure. But apparently you did, since the next words that came out of your mouth were,

“Save me.”

The way Satori handled you would lead you to believe that he had done this a billion times. You knew he hadn’t, he couldn’t have.

“You need to show yourself to God in your purest form.”

You shivered as his cold fingertips touched your skin as he helped undress you, the weeping Virgins were the only ones watching your nervous form besides Satori himself. Besides God himself.

Shortly after he undressed you, He took his own clothes off, his translucent skin and inky black veins more prominent in the grey sunlight. You had never seen him so exposed, and the same went for you. You curled up shyly, remembering that you sat naked in front of him.

“Stop,” He said gently, placing a cold hand on your knee, pulling your limbs away from hiding your body. “You’re perfect,” He breathed out softly. You felt heat rush through your body at his comment. “Such a perfect vessel,” He mumbled, continuing to eye you up and down.

“V-vessel?” You prompted, only to be cut off by the sensation of Satori sucking down and kissing your neck. You gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders as he towered over you, nipping at your skin and sucking harshly. You cried out softly, embarrassed at the wetness pooling in between your legs. You were brought out of your distraction when you felt Satori’s sharp teeth dig into the flesh of your neck. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the new sensation too much to bare. He pulled away to look at you, his lips swollen from kissing your neck and his eyes looked like ruby’s, mesmerizing gems.

“Sato,” you whispered. He looked ravenous and wild. HIs cheekbones looked sharper, the blank veins pulsing rapidly under his skin. He grinned madly, and now you were certain. You had lost Satori. The monster in front of you was a demon. You had fallen in love with demon.

“Hush,” He purred, placing a icy finger against your lips to silence you.

You stared, horrified at his next move, what this demon would do to you, with such heavy lust overtaking your vision. You really were a sinner. With unexpected force, he pushed you back down against the ground, the fluff of the blanket cushioning your fall. With iron-clad strength, he opened your legs and buried his head between them. You gasped, Satori’s mouth instantly latching around your clit without warning. You shook under him and he reached up and grabbed your throat, gripping it tightly to quiet you. You whimpered, unable to handle the strength he was sucking at. Your breath hitched feeling his cold finger slide inside you, curling rapidly. It was too much too fast, your vision blurring as you felt tightness coil in your tummy.

“S-Sato, please; it's too much!”

You cried, fearing the heat bubbling up in your core. You felt Satori roll his eyes against you as his tongue darted inside of you, sucking and leeching your folds as he slipped a second finger inside. You’d never felt like this, flush and needy and desperate for his touch. He let go of your neck and your arms launched forward, pulling at his hair and attempting to get some form of leverage as you bucked your hips against this mouth. You were so close-

“Pathetic,” He growled sitting up, his pale face covered in your slick. It was lewd and sinful and quite possibly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. “You were going to cum just from my mouth? You’re too easy.”

You frowned, embarrassed that he was right. He chuckled and gently placed a kiss on your lips. You blinked.

There it was the moment you had been longing for for so long. He had finally kissed you. It took a demonic possession but at last, he finally kissed you. It was just a peck, so he began to pull away. You wouldn’t let that be, you couldn’t. No no no, your mind screamed as you grabbed his face and pulled him back to you. You kissed him hard, every lingering touch filled with needy. You gasped softly when he bit your bottom lip, he pointed teeth puncturing gently. You pulled away, completely aware of what you were going to ask and to what you were asking. There was no longer who inside of Satori’s body, but a what, a demon.

“Sato, I-I know I’m a sinner and I know this is wrong, but,” You sat on your knees, begging him, taking his icy hand and placing it on your bare chest. “If you can save me, do it now.”

Satori’s red eye’s sparkled, clearly hearing words he liked.

“What a beautiful perfect little sinner you are.”

You sat on your knees, continuously begging for him to do more than just look down on you, until pushed you back, knocking you down onto your back. It seemed this domineering position was his favorite. You watched with wide eyes as Satori positioned his length at your entrance.

“Beg for my cock.”

“W-What? Sato that’s so vulgar-”

“I SAID BEG,” He growled threateningly, there was no softness in his voice, just utter lust and malice.

“P-please, Satori, I need your cock! Please, I need it so bad-” You cried out when he forcefully shoved his entire length inside of you.

Your head fell back, your vision blurring from the tears of pain and pleasure. Moans fell from your lips at the sins that were happening before you. Not only were you fucking the pastor’s son, you were fucking the pastor’s son who was possessed by a demon in a graveyard. You blinked several times, the tears rolling down your cheeks as you were able to focus your vision. Staring back down at you, was one of the weeping Virgin statues, crying just as you were.

You were brought back to focus on Satori when he thrusted harshly into you, hitting your cervix. You groaned, the pleasure becoming too much to handle, the heat bubbling up inside of you once more. Satori grunted with every violent thrust, growling and sounding absolutely animalistic, your legs now sitting on his shoulders to go deeper into you. The moans bounced and echoed against the tombstones in the yard the Virgins watched the scene in front of them.

“I’m close Sato,” You whimpered, digging your nails into his back, scratching hard as to cling onto him. He moaned, and you knew you were drawing blood. You pulled your hands away, only to see that it wasn’t blood, but the same black ink that ran through his veins. You gasped, unable to deny now that Satori was a demon. You cried out, an unexpected thrust hitting your g-spot directly.

“Praise your God and I’ll let you cum,” Satori hissed, his pupils slitted like a snake.

You had realized now that you are Eve. Bewitched by the serpent, Satan, in the garden by the fruit.

“P-Please o-oh God! I want to cum, please!” You wailed, begging for him to fill you with the same ink that now adorned your fingers.

“What a good little sinner,” He purred, quickening his pace and bottoming out in you. You arched your back, crying out as you unraveled underneath him. He growled lowly in your ear as he came inside of you with you. He slowed his pace, letting you both ride out your highs. You panted, looking up at him, as the pulsing veins that trailed his cheekbones faded back into his flesh.

“Sato...” You attempted to catch your breath as you weakly sat up. “I-I love you,” you blurted, praying that somewhere inside, the true Satori could hear you under the weight of the demon that consumed him.

“I know,” He smiled softly and cupped your chin in his hand and pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And now I own you.”

taglist: @mixfi @melanimed @batwrangler @kac-chowsballs (taglist for event is still open)

#hellish intentions 1k event #vangoghmusings #satori #tendou #tendo #tendo satori #satori tendou #satori tendō #satori tendo x reader #tendou x y/n #tendo x y/n #tendo x reader #tendou x reader #tendou x you #tendou satori x reader #tendou smut #tendo smut

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

Someone Get Me To A Church

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Genre: Drama, Horror

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 1. Prompt: “Exorcist”.

You recently started volunteering at a church that provides meals to the homeless. Despite not being particularly religious, you develop a bond with one of the priests there, Gerard. But, when a demonic entity appears on the church’s doorstep, can you and Gerard send him back to Hell, where he belongs?

Trigger warnings for violence, and mentions of alcoholism.

You’d been volunteering at the soup kitchen for about a week now. It was operated by St. Benedict’s Catholic Church. You’d attended Mass there as a kid, but it had been a while since you’d really considered yourself a “practicing” Catholic. Still, the work was relatively easy. Mostly chopping vegetables, and ladling soup into bowls. And it felt good, doing something to help the homeless people in your city.

“We’re about done for the day, Y/N,” smiled Ruth, one of the older volunteers. “The last guest has finished eating. Now, we’ve just got to wash his dishes, and then we can go home.”

Most of the volunteers had left already. The bulk of the dishes were already clean. There had just been a couple people who had come in at the very end of meal service. You’d been waiting for them to finish their lunch, before you closed up for the afternoon.

“If you bring the dishes into the kitchen, I’ll finish washing them for you,” you offered.

“Oh, you’re such a dear,” Ruth said gratefully. “I’ve been using my hands all day. My arthritis is starting to flare up.”

“Go home and take your medicine,” you said gently. “I can handle the rest of it on my own.”

“Thank you,” Ruth replied, handing you a small stack of bowls and utensils. “God be with you!”

“Oh, uh, you, too,” you mumbled, heading into the kitchen. You were surprised to find someone else already standing by the sink.

It was a handsome, black-haired man. You’d seen him walking around with Father Geoff earlier. His white collar, told you that he must be one of the other priests from St. Benedict’s.

“Hello,” you greeted. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that anyone was still back here.”

“I was about to leave,” the man shrugged. “I saw someone had spilled soup on the counters, so I was giving them a wipe down before I headed out.”

“Oh, thanks,” you nodded, setting the dishes down in the sink. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I’m Gerard,” the man introduced, offering a hand.

“I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand. Wow….his skin is so soft. “It’s nice to meet you, Father Gerard.”

“Oh, I’m not quite a ‘father’ yet,” Gerard chuckled. “I’m just a deacon.”

“What’s a deacon?” you asked.

“I just graduated from seminary school recently,” Gerard explained. “So, I’m still in training. I haven’t taken my final vows yet.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded. He’s still a man of the cloth, you told yourself. So stop thinking about his soft hands….and his pretty face.

“Hopefully, if I do a good job, Father Geoff will ordain me soon,” Gerard said hopefully.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can do it!” you assured him.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gerard chuckled. “Would you like some help with those dishes?”

“Oh, sure,” you said gratefully, handing him a dish towel. “If I wash, can you dry?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Gerard smiled.

You quickly got to work, scrubbing the crumbs off a spoon, and then handing it to him. He wiped it dry, and placed it on the dish rack.

“How long have you been working here, Y/N?” Gerard asked curiously.

“Oh, I just started lasting weekend,” you confessed, handing him a bowl.

“That’s wonderful,” Gerard smiled, wiping the bowl with a rag. “Father Geoff told me that most of the volunteers are older, and have been doing this for years. It’s hard for him, to find younger people, who are interested in joining the program.”

“It’s…..really not that wonderful,” you said sheepishly, looking down at the coffee cup you were scrubbing.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The truth is,” you sighed, “I’m not going to be with the volunteer program for very long.”

“Why not?” Gerard frowned, taking the cup from you.

“I’m….,” you reddened, ashamed of what you were about to say. “I’m just volunteering here, because my probation officer asked me to.”

“Probation?” Gerard blinked.

“Yeah….I fucked up,” you admitted. “I’m sorry…..messed up. I shouldn’t swear on church property…”

“It’s okay,” Gerard assured you. “Go on….?”

“I did something stupid,” you continued, embarrassed. “I was a first time offender, so they didn’t throw me in jail. Thank God. But, I was given twelve months of probation, and the judge said I have to do 50 hours of community service.”

“What crime did you commit?” Gerard asked.

You looked at the floor. He probably thinks I’m a disgusting sinner, you guessed, cheeks burning.

To your surprise, Gerard took your hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It was a DUI,” you confessed. “I know, it’s dumb, I should have just called a cab, instead of trying to drive home….I didn’t think. And then I got pulled over, like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, Y/N,” Gerard said softly, squeezing his hand. “God loves you, even when you make mistakes. And only He can judge you….I myself, am certainly in no place, to judge anyone.”

“What do you mean?” you looked up into his hazel eyes, confused.

“I may be a man of God now,” Gerard explained, “but in my early twenties, I lived a sinful life, and did many stupid things.”

“Really?” you gasped, surprised.

“Yeah,” Gerard said shyly. “I was….an alcoholic, and a drug user. My family forced me to get help…..Alcoholics Anonymous is a Christian based organization. While I was in rehab, I started reading the Bible a lot. I found Jesus, and that gave me a purpose. The Lord helped me fight my inner demons, and become a better person.”

“I’m really glad that becoming Christian, was able to help you get sober,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “You turned your life around….that’s definitely something to be proud of.”

“Thank you,” Gerard said, touched. “I hope that God helps you to turn your life around, too, Y/N. I know that you can do it.”

You stared into his eyes, overcome with emotion. He was being so sweet to you, even though you didn’t feel like you deserved it. His face was so close to your own…..you were tempted to do something you shouldn’t. But, suddenly, you heard a loud crash coming from the dining area.

“What was that?” Gerard gasped.

“I don’t know,” you turned, facing the source of the sound. “I’m going to go check it out.”

You found a man sprawled in the doorway. His hair was short and black, and arms were lined with tattoos.

“Oh my god!” you gasped. “Sir, are you okay?”

You walked over to his side, and offered a hand to help him up. He didn’t look hurt, but something in his gaze seemed….off.

“Please,” the man begged. “I need help….”

“Um….meal service is over,” you informed him, nervous about the way he was still holding onto your arm. “We’ll start serving food again around noon tomorrow, if you’d like to come back…”

“No,” the man shook his head. “I don’t need food….I need you to…..”

“To what?” you wondered.

“Oh, god, it’s too late,” the man gasped. He shoved you away. “You need to run. Now.”

“Run?” you repeated. “Run from what?”

“I can’t hold him back any longer,” the man sobbed.

“Him?” you echoed, still confused.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes turned pitch black. A wicked smirk crossed his face, completely unlike his previous expression. He spoke in a deep voice, that was not his own.

“You cannot save him…..die!”

The man lunged at you, wrapping his hands around your throat. You tried to scream, but he tightened his grip, and you couldn’t breathe.

Why was he doing this?! He had been acting normal just a second ago….why would he attack you? Were you really going to die?

“He..lp,” you pleaded, terrified. “Please….somebody….help!”

“Get your hands off of her!” Gerard cried, punching the man in the jaw. He hit the ground hard, his hands leaving your throat, as he fell backwards. You gasped for air.

“Y/N, who is this guy?!” Gerard demanded.

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never seen him before in my life!”

The man got up again, and lunged at you once more. His eyes were completely black - no pupils, only sclera.

“Get back, in the name of Christ!” Gerard cried, pulling a small cross from his pocket, and brandishing it at the stranger.

To your surprise, the man retreated. Why did that work?

You got behind Gerard, still frightened. He shielded you with his body, as he pointed the cross at the man again. The man took a few more steps back.

“Who are you?!” Gerard asked.

“Beelzebub,” the man replied.

“What?” you gasped. You’d heard that name before, in a horror movie. “That’s the name of a demon from the Bible, isn’t it?”

“Yes, foolish one,” the man cackled. He pulled a small knife from his back pocket, and advanced on you again.

“Y/N, we need to get out of here!” Gerard warned. He grabbed your arm and pulled you with him as he ran towards the kitchen.

The man pursued you. “Come back here and die, foolish humans!”

“He just called us humans….like he’s not one?” you realized.

“Y/N, run out the back door, now,” Gerard pleaded. “Don’t look back.”

“No, I won’t leave you behind!” you insisted. This psycho is gonna stab him!

The man backed Gerard into a corner, and raised his knife in the air.

“No!” you cried. You grabbed a dirty frying pan out of the sink, and used all of your strength, to whack the man in the back of the head.

He crumpled to the ground. The knife fell harmlessly to the floor with him. You looked down and saw that his head was bleeding.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. “What if I killed him?”

“He was going to kill me!” Gerard reminded you. “Thank you, Y/N. You saved my life.”

“You saved mine first, when he was choking me,” you replied.

Your eyes returned to the unconscious man on the kitchen floor, still in shock.

“His head injury actually looks pretty minor,” Gerard said, kneeling down to look at him more closely. “There should be a first aid kit, in the sacristy. Will you help me get him up?”

“You’re going to treat his injury?” you asked, surprised. “He tried to stab you!”

“But I say unto you,” Gerard quoted, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.”

“....What?” you blinked.

“That’s a bible verse,” Gerard clarified. “Matthew 5:44.”

“So….you think helping him, is what Jesus would do?” you guessed.

“Yes,” Gerard said simply. He picked the man up, and threw him over his shoulder.

“....Ok,” you decided, “I’ll help you.” You followed him to the next building over, the church annex.

Gerard is a far better person then I’ll ever be.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard sat the unconscious man in a chair, and started wiping the blood off his brow. You got the first aid kit off the shelf, and handed Gerard a roll of bandages.

“Thank you,” Gerard said, and applied the bandage to the man’s face. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. This stranger had just tried to murder you both!

“Could you get the chain, from the second shelf down?” Gerard asked. “Normally, we use it to lock the church doors at night. But, I think it will work for this, too.”

“....This?” you repeated uncertainly, handing him the object he’d asked for.

Your heart hammered as you watched Gerard tie the man’s hands behind his back.

“....This man is going to need more help from us,” Gerard said grimly.

“What do you mean?”

“Clearly,” Gerard said, looking pale, “this poor soul has been possessed by a demon.”

“Huh?” you laughed nervously. “No way….demons aren’t real.”

“I believe in God and all His angels,” Gerard insisted. “So, I have to acknowledge that the Devil, and his fallen angels, exist, too. Thankfully, the Vatican has a guidebook of sorts, to train priests, how to perform exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms,” you repeated. “Gerard, you can’t be serious.”

“You saw his eyes,” Gerard said quietly.

You shivered as you remembered how the man’s eyes had looked while he was trying to strangle you. Dark. Inhuman.

“And he identified himself, as Beelzebub,” Gerard reminded you. He picked a bible up off the shelf, and handed it to you. “Here, read this!”

You looked at the passage he was talking about - Matthew 12:22:

Then they brought him a demon-possessed man who was blind and mute, and Jesus healed him, so that he could both talk and see. All the people were astonished and said, “Could this be the Son of David?”

But when the Pharisees heard this, they said, “It is only by Beelzebub, the prince of demons, that this fellow drives out demons.”

“The….the prince of demons?” you repeated, heart pounding. “You’re saying that’s who’s sitting in that chair right now?”

You looked over at the man. He still hadn’t woken up.

“I...I’ve never performed an exorcism before,” Gerard confessed. “To be honest, I’m nervous. But that man….he asked you for help, didn’t he?”

You thought back to what the man had said to you, when you first found him sprawled on the steps. He had pleaded with you for help, before he started attacking you. That must have been the vessel speaking - not Beelzebub. You imagined what it must feel like, to be possessed. To watch your hands choke somebody, but not be in control of them.

“You’re right,” you decided. “We have to help him.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

Gerard pulled another book from the shelf, took a deep breath, and began reading from the page.

“Let us pray,” he began.

You crossed yourself, clumsily, and clasped your hands together. You were out of practice - you weren’t sure you being here was going to help at all.

“God, Creator and defender of the human race, who made man in your own image, look down in pity on this your servant, now in the toils of the unclean spirit,” Gerard recited. “Now caught up in the fearsome threats of man's ancient enemy, sworn foe of our race, who befuddles…..”

You jumped as man in the chair stirred, and woke up. He narrowed his unholy, black eyes at Gerard. “Silence!” he demanded. “Be silent, before I break these chains and kill you, you bastard!”

“B-befuddles and stupefies the human mind,” Gerard stammered, thrown off by the interruption.

“Keep going!” you encouraged, even though you were shaking with fear. “Don’t stop reciting the prayer!”

“....Stupefies the human mind,” Gerard went on. “Throws it into terror, overwhelms it with fear and panic. Repel, Oh Lord, the devil's power, break asunder his snares and traps, put the unholy tempter to flight….”

“You think you and this harlot have the holy power to exorcise me?!” the demon snickered. “I know your secrets! Both of you are filled with sin!”

“Y/N, hand me the holy water!” Gerard urged, ignoring Beelzebub’s taunts.

You ran to the shelf, and grabbed the bottle, tossing it to Gerard with shaking hands.

He opened it, and poured a few drops into his hand. Trembling, he approached the man, and drew the sign of the cross in holy water, on his forehead.

The demon screamed in pain, as though Gerard were spraying him with acid.

“By the sign of your name,” Gerard cried, “”let your servant be protected in mind and body!”

“Who are you to call upon Him?!” the demon demanded. “You think He will help you defeat me? Ha! You are unworthy - the both of you are destined for Hell!”

He swiveled his head around, and fixed his unholy black eyes on you. “Does your new priest friend know you are a disgusting drunkard?” he laughed cruelly. “Does he know that you almost killed an innocent child, when you chose to drive home from the bar that night?”

“How…..how do you know that?!” you gasped. You’d swerved at the last second, that night, crashing your car into a retaining wall, instead of the little boy, who had been playing in the street. But you still had nightmares, about what would have happened, if you hadn’t been able to grab the steering wheel fast enough. He’s right. I’m disgusting….I’m an awful person.

“She has confessed her sins, to me, and to a judge, in a court of law,” Gerard said, surprising you. “And she is doing penance for that sin now - working in my soup kitchen, and helping me to save the poor man you’ve possessed. God asks no more of her than this. I am certain He forgives her.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Does he really mean that?

Gerard poured more holy water into his hand, and made another cross, over the man’s heart. The demon howled again, in agony.

“What about your sins, deacon?!” Beelzebub growled. “You are just as vile as she!”

“I know he used to be a junkie,” you said quietly. “But he’s a better man now! God forgives him, too!”

“I speak not of the sins of the past, you fool,” the demon cackled. “I speak of the sin he has committed today!”

“What sin?” you demanded.

“He began thinking lustful thoughts, as soon as he laid eyes on you,” Beelzebub accused.

“What?” you gasped.

Gerard’s face reddened. He turned away from you in shame. Could it be true?

No way, you thought. The demon must be lying, to distract us.

“Gerard, finish the prayer!” you cried.

“Your lecherous desires make you unfit for the clergy,” the demon smirked.

“....I….I’m filth,” Gerard mumbled, staring down at his shoes. “God, forgive me….”

What the hell? Had the demon’s words really thrown him off that much?

“Jesus died for everyone’s sins, right?” you reminded.

“....Right,” Gerard blinked, picking his head up. “He died for your sins, and mine, so that all who accept Him as their savior, can enter Heaven.”

“Jesus loves you - so talk to him, and ask him to help us send this son of a bitch back to Hell!” you urged.

“Right,” Gerard nodded, and began reading from his prayer book again. “O Lord, keep watch over the inmost recesses of this man’s heart; rule over his emotions; strengthen his will. Let vanish from his soul the temptings of the mighty adversary…..”

“I am mightier than anyone!” Beelzebub shrieked. “I am the Prince of Demons! Feel my wrath!”

You screamed as the lights flickered and books started flying off the shelves. You ducked as a book of hymns nearly hit you in the face.

“Stop!” Gerard cried. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“You do not command me, mortal!” Beelzebub snarled. “Watch what happens to those who challenge me!”

Suddenly, you went flying. An unseen force shoved you backwards, pinning you against the wall. You were like a rag doll, controlled by invisible hands. Your head was slammed into the wall, over and over. You screamed with pain. The back of your head began to bleed.

“Please, stop hurting her!” Gerard begged.

“Call off this ritual, and I will do as you ask,” the demon bargained.

“No!” you cried, even as your consciousness began to fade. “Gerard, please! Finish the exorcism!”

With tears in his eyes, Gerard began to pray again:

“Graciously grant, Oh Lord, as we call on your holy name, that the evil spirit, who hitherto terrorized over us, may himself retreat in terror and defeat, so that this servant of yours may sincerely and steadfastly render you the service which is your due; through Christ our Lord! Amen!”

“AMEN!” you cried. Then, everything faded to black.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

You woke up in a hospital bed, your head swathed in bandages. The back of your skull still hurt.

How did I get here? you wondered. The room was totally quiet, aside from the beeping of your heart monitor.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door.

“....Gerard?” you called hopefully.

“Not quite,” said an unknown voice. A black-haired man, with a familiar face, stepped into the room.

“Beelzebub?!” you gasped. Had he come to finish you off?!

You grabbed your IV pole, hoping you could brandish it as a weapon.

“No!” the man said quickly. “Beelzebub is gone!”

“....Oh,” you realized, setting the pole down. So, the ritual had worked. This meant that the man standing before you, was not the demon, but the poor guy who had gotten possessed.

“I’m Frank,” the man introduced. “The nurse told me that your name is Y/N?”

“Yeah,” you said weakly. “That’s me.”

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, that you got hurt, because of me,” Frank said sadly.

“It’s not your fault,” you said, sincerely. “You didn’t ask to have your body taken over.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Frank added. “You and that priest saved my life.”

“Do you know where the, uh, priest went?” you asked. You wanted to see Gerard again.

“I think he took off after he drove us here,” Frank confessed. “Apparently, he told the doctors, that we both fell down the cathedral steps, and hit our heads that way.”

“Do you think they actually believed that?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I think they wouldn’t believe the real story,” Frank chuckled, “even if we told them.”

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

A week later, you were released from the hospital. You had made a full recovery. You had told your mom the same lie - that you “fell”. Nobody knew what really happened. You hadn’t been particularly religious in a long time. But now, confronted with the reality that demons existed, you found yourself praying to God to protect you, every time you left your house.

You were out and about today, running errands. You hadn’t meant to stop at the church, but you found your feet walking there before you knew it. There was no Mass going on, at this time of day - the place should be completely empty.

You pushed open the heavy doors, and found that the church was almost empty - except for one. Gerard sat in the first pew, closest to the altar, his head bowed in prayer.

His head snapped up, when the door slammed shut behind you.

“Y/N?!” he gasped, turning around to look at you. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pray,” you replied. “I didn’t know that you would be here.”

“....I’ve been praying a great deal since I last saw you,” Gerard sighed. “Please, come sit down.”

You walked to the front of the church, and slid into the pew beside him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, concerned. “Is your head still….?”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “I had a pretty bad concussion, but I’m better now.”

“Oh, thanks be to God!” Gerard cried, relieved.

“Thanks be to you,” you corrected. “If you hadn’t sent that demon packing, he would have kept using his weird psychic powers to bash my skull in.”

“It was only through God’s power, that I was able to exorcise Beelzebub,” Gerard shrugged. “But, thank you for being there to help me.”

“Of course,” you nodded.

For a moment, there was an awkward silence.

“....Father Geoff said he plans to schedule my ordination ceremony, for All Saint’s Day,” Gerard said finally.

“That’s a month from today,” you realized.

“Yeah,” Gerard nodded. “In one month, I’m supposed to take my final vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity.”

Chastity. You mulled this word over in your head for a moment. In Catholicism, priests were forbidden to have any type of sexual, or romantic, relationships. Their bodies and minds, belonged only to God.

Gerard knew what the rules of priesthood were, when he decided to go to seminary school, you considered. He was okay with giving up being touched, for the rest of his life.

“You’ve spent years, training to become a full-fledged priest,” you smiled faintly. “You must be very happy, to finally be reaching your goal.”

“I should be happy,” Gerard sighed, “but I’m not.”

“Why not?” you blinked.

“Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Gerard confessed, in a low whisper, as if he didn’t want even God to hear it.

Your eyes widened. “.....Me?”

“Yes,” Gerard flushed.

“Gerard…,” you asked hesitantly. “Was what the demon said, during the exorcism, true? Have you been having….lustful thoughts about me?”

“I have,” Gerard admitted with shame. “God forgive me, but I have.”

“It’s okay..” you said softly.

“It’s not!” Gerard argued. “I’m supposed to be a holy man! I’m not supposed to creep on some pious young woman.”

“I don’t think you’re creepy,” you said quietly. “The truth is…..I’ve been having lustful thoughts about you, too.”

Gerard’s eyes widened. “.....Really?”

“Yes,” you blushed. “The moment I met you, I started thinking about your handsome face, and your soft hands. I wanted to be touched by them.”

“....I haven’t touched a woman since I entered the seminary,” Gerard hesitated. “I thought I was okay with that. I never missed it. But now? Ever since I left you at the hospital, I’ve been dreaming of taking you into my arms, and kissing you.”

“Do it,” you said breathlessly.

“I can’t!” Gerard argued. “I’ve spent the last four and a half years, training my hardest to become a clergyman. Now that I’m on the precipice of everything I’ve worked for, suddenly I fall into temptation?!”

“Why?” you had to ask. “Why would you question your whole career, over someone you’ve only met once?”

“....I’ve seen you more than once,” Gerard revealed.

“Huh?”

“It was on Christmas Eve, a year ago,” Gerard explained. “I was helping Father Geoff with midnight Mass. You came to church with your parents, wearing a gorgeous black dress.”

“I remember that night,” you realized, “but I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“I didn’t give the sermon,” Gerard recalled. “Geoff did, while I performed smaller tasks, like holding the chalice, during Communion.”

“I was feeling kinda sick,” you remembered. “I didn’t take Communion that night, because I was worried I’d spread my germs to the rest of the congregation.”

“After Mass ended,” Gerard went on, “I watched you leave the church. There was a homeless man, sitting outside. You walked over to a hot dog stand, and bought him a meal. Even though you were in fancy clothes, you sat and talked with him for a bit, while he ate.”

“It was just a hot dog,” you shrugged. “They’re only a couple dollars.”

“Only a couple dollars,” Gerard repeated, “and yet, every other person who had just left the church, walked past him, and refused to buy him one, when he begged, and said he was hungry.”

“They just ignored him,” you frowned. “Like they think they’re better than him, or something.”

“Even on the holiest night of the year,” Gerard recalled fondly, “you were the only person who chose to be kind. To me, this was a Christ-like action.”

“Christ-like? Me? No way!”

“I was fascinated by you, and I hoped I would see you again, at the next Mass,” Gerard admitted, “but, you never came back, after that.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “After Christmas break ended, I went back to college. During spring semester, I made some friends who were involved with Greek life. I started going to frat parties, and clubs, a lot more. I would usually get so drunk on Saturday nights, that I would be too hungover, to go to church, the next morning.”

“I see,” Gerard nodded. You expected to him judge you, but there was none of that in his expression.

“....I’ve decided I want to quit drinking,” you said seriously. “Especially after my car accident. Beelzebub wasn’t wrong….I really could have hurt someone.”

“When I first started getting sober,” Gerard said empathetically, “I was a mess. I had made so many mistakes, driven so many people away. I didn’t know who I wanted to be. I didn’t even know, if I wanted to be. But….God saved me. Religion gave me a reason to live. A purpose. That’s why I decided, I wanted to thank God, by dedicating the rest of my life, to Him, and Him alone.”

“But….what if that’s not God’s plan for you?” you asked. “What if He caused you to meet me, because He wants us to be together?”

“Are you saying God wants me to kiss you?” Gerard replied, bewildered.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But, I know that I want you to.”

Gerard couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He pounced on you with a passion that surprised you, knocking you backward onto the pew. His body covered yours as your lips met.

His lips were even softer than his hands. It was like the floodgates had opened. Consumed with desire, you twisted your hands into his hair as he kissed you harder, deeper. You cried out, and the sound echoed against the walls of the empty cathedral.

“We….we can’t do this here,” you gasped. “This is a house of God.”

“And I was meant to be a man of God,” Gerard panted. “But instead, I am now your man. I will be yours, as long as you will have me.”

“Have me right now,” you gasped, pulling him down onto you, for another searing kiss. “Have me forever.”

#gerard way x reader #gerard way imagine #priest gerard #alcoholic reader #gothtober

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previouslynebraskan · 3 years

Text

Why humans are assholes

Hi, my pen name is Gwendolyn, and welcome to my TED talk on empathy

*side note, I suck at writing, and my train of thought is derailed frequently. So buckle up, and I’ll be surprised if you make it with me to the end, as we don’t know organization.

First off, I’ll disclaim something terrible about myself. I’m a Christian. Even worse. I’m a rosary rattler. A Catholic! Oh and you thought it couldn’t get worse? I’m not even a good one. God and I are only on speaking terms when I need him (which is pretty frequent, but not the point). Church feels like an obligation most weeks, and just because I know the rules and believe in the rules, doesn’t mean that I follow them.

Alrighty! Terrible things out of the way. Let’s begin. Humans are assholes. Most people, especially the population of Tumblr, will agree with me. Between human atrocities, selfishness, and down right lack of care, humans are just assholes. I am too. I am human. Ask my siblings. Like any good older sister, I wanted nothing to do with my siblings, and when forced to see them at school, I was unprecedently mean to them. Ask my husband. I am ridiculously selfish, and only do things when it suits me. And yet, there is an entire history of the human race, with worse individuals than myself. And a lot of people might see that, and think, cool, I feel better about myself, because I’m not Hitler. I feel better about myself because I wasn’t a member of the KKK. Well, personally, I don’t. The next disclaimer I am going to make about myself, I’m a self-diagnosed empath. I’ve never been to a therapist. I don’t currently have plans to either, but I’ll let God decide that path later. The reason I bring this up, and the reason I mentioned my religion at the beginning, is because I truly believe that if not for my first disclaimer, my second might not exist.

I am a crier. And I get annoyed at criers. But I don’t cry at reasonable things. No. I cry at other people’s feelings. Let’s bastardize the golden rule real quick. For those who are unaware, “Treat others how you want to be treated.” Now, I’m sure many people recall going through a phase where they could translate that in their still learning brains to “I can treat people however I want because I wouldn’t care if they were that way to me.” Now back to the golden rule. The bastardization is, put yourself in someone else’s shoes. How many of us got told this by their parents at a young age after not playing nicely with another kid? Apparently, God took it upon Himself to write that verse on my heart. And it went something like this: I cried when my mother told me that her grandmother (whom I had only met twice and had no actual recollection of) died. I was inconsolable when my grandfather died. So much so that even now, almost fifteen years later, it still stops me in my tracks, my heart hurts so much. I cried when Michael Jackson died. I didn’t really even like his music that much. I’ve cried at almost every movie I’ve ever seen. My sister’s speech at my wedding included the moment where she had to chaperone me on a date with my then boyfriend, and we went to Frozen. Now yes, I cried at the scene when her parents die in the shipwreck. But it gets worse. Elsa is out there, just ran away, no plans for shelter yet apparently, and she begins to break out into song. At first I’m fine. But then I can feel my heart, as she sings, “well now they know.” I start bawling my eyes out. And all I can give in response to my sister’s quizzical look of “What the fuck is wrong with you???” (Yes I cursed, I told you, not one of the good ones. Fuck off), was: “She’s just so happy!” I wouldn’t necessarily say I was sad at that time. But I could feel the relase that an animated character was expressing on the big screen. I could feel the weight come off of her shoulders, and I cried. I mourned for what she went through, but shed tears of joy that she had found peace. Tonight. I was watching Facebook videos instead of taking care of my nightly routine of getting ready for bed. And a Mengele twin told her story of survival. When she mentioned looking around for her father and older sisters, I felt that. When she said she could still see her mother’s outstreched arms, I could see that. When she mentioned the panic of trying to save her sister years after liberation, trying to find records of what was done to them, her rage and anger. And then her forgiveness. Do you know how strong someone has to be in order to forgive? To let go of the pain in your heart, knowing you’ll never get revenge. You’ll never get an answer. And you just let it go? That strength is super human. This week, as we pass the 20th anniversary of the tragedy of 9/11, my hometown did a wonderful commemoration. I cried. My aunt gave me a look of disgust because I was crying, again. I cried not only for those who lost their lives, but for their families who would never be whole, for the heroes who stepped up, then and now. I am a proud Navy wife. My husband is out sacrificing his time, so that I don’t have to. And so that I can worship my stupid religion that I cling to, so I can walk around saying inappropriate words and wear not enough clothing. But he made that choice. There are a lot who didn’t. Earlier this week, someone posted the transcription of the phone call of flight 93. The moment that he said that the passengers wanted to sacrifice their lives, for the sake of our country, I hurt. And then he asked the person on the other end of the line to pray. Another video this week, an ex soldier, who fought early on in Afghanistan was telling a story about one of his soldiers. They were getting ready for a raid that would likely kill them. His soldier asks, I know we signed up to fight, but why are we doing this? The man’s response was, for the people up in that tower who didn’t. He goes on to explain the story of a young mother. Two kids. Went to work like any other day, and her last attempt at human decency was to hold her skirt down as she jumped out of the burning tower, so the people below couldn’t see up her skirt.

Crpl. Page was a Marine from my state who just passed away. He was two years younger than me. I never knew him. But I grieve for his family and friends.

See the worst part about being an empath in a world where human’s are assholes, is there’s never a shortage of people’s feelings to feel. I’ve been told that you can experience an emotion so strongly that your body’s only reaction to the volume of what it feels is to cry. And that resonates with me. I feel joy to such an extreme when I’m with my family, celebrating time together. I feel the sorrow of people missing loved ones, and their hearts breaking. And there are times when I wonder if it’s a gift? Or if it’s a curse. It’s a gift to be able to go to someone and say, I can feel for you and your situation. I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel your pain as though it were my own. But it’s a curse to feel the attrocities of humanity and just sit and wonder why it had to happen. Why it had to come to this. I got told I was crying for attention. I wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Supposedly, behavioral psychology could “fix me” if I wanted it. I could be trained to control my emotions, and process them in a way that wasn’t so consuming. It would definetly help my self diagnosed depression. But let’s posit that God made me this way for a reason. He gave me this gift with a purpose in mind. What then? The problem is, I don’t know how to effectively use it without letting it ruin my life. I can never be a therapist, because I would be able to take on the feelings of my clients. And while I do very much believe in tough love, I also belive that if you just have the right push in the right direction, great changes can be made. Would the Holocaust have happened if Hitler had better relationship with his mother? (this is a personal piece, I am reflecting on history classes I haven’t taken since high school. I’m not fact checking this. Don’t at me.) Would Columine have taken place if those kids had been in a better place mentally?

You know what the awful thing is...? Look at all of these events. Look at all of these heart wrenching dates in history. And then look what came out of them. Out of 9/11 came one of the most unified fronts America has had in a long time. Out of World War II came men of valor. A chemical reaction occurs when you take an object, and force it to experience a high degree of change. And that is what gives us assholes grit. Our experiences make us tougher, and make us better. And maybe less of a crybaby in my case. Or more of a cyborg who doesn’t experience emotion for fear of being consumed by them.

Ramble is over. For those of you who persisted and tried to keep up, good job and I’m sorry. For those who didn’t, don’t worry, I wouldn’t blame you.

Some effort is better than none at all, and if all you are capable of is existing today, then I hope you do, and I know you will do it beautifully.

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leilabeaux · 4 years

Text

Learning

Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Ivar is able to learn more about Reader as her walls slowly comes down.

Author’s Note: I’ve been slow with updating anything. With work and all the things going on in the world, I’ve been much like the reader and preferred to stay in bed all time. Hopefully, I can get back into the groove because I do enjoy entertaining you all with the ideas that pop up in my head.

The Stolen Queen: When Heathen King Meets Christian Queen Lost The Secret Visit

----

The knot on the wooden plank across from you seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. You were lying in bed with your arm hanging off the edge and no intention of moving. It seemed like today was going to be the same as the rest. Your ankle was getting better and you could finally put some weight on it but that still didn’t give you enough motivation to step outside.

There wasn’t much of a point. You could only sit in silence with Arn so many times and watch as he sharpened his sword or gutted whatever animal you'd be feasting on that day. Even if he were more of a conversationalist, he knew no Saxon and there were only a few Norse words you could understand. You two were limited on the ways you were able to get your point across to each other.

Like a few moments ago when he plopped a plate of food onto the bed. He pointed at your lunch, acted like he was spooning it to his mouth before he crossed his arms and waited for you to make your move. You nibbled on a slice of meat just to appease the older man enough to leave you alone. Once he made his exit, you dropped the morsel immediately and went back to staring at the wall.

Your eyes grew heavy as you slowly drifted off for the third time that day. You spent most of your days asleep. Ever since the last time you ran off, you realized that it was only in your dreams when you could escape from these four walls, getting lost in past memories. Some good, some bad, and some that hadn’t crossed your mind since you were younger...

It was the sound of a clay pot crashing right outside your room that woke you from your nap. You stood on the tip of your toes over your pile of blankets to take a peek out of the window. The usual bustle of the marketplace was replaced with panic as people tried to quickly pack up their stalls. Mothers had their children in their arms as they ran from the town center.

The shouting from the other room had you hopping off your bed and quietly walking toward the archway. Your mother and Sigbert, her loyal guard and friend, hovered over the table, looking over the battle plans. The white paint on her face was smudged and now replaced with blood but you weren’t sure if it was hers or someone else’s.

Sigbert pounded his fist against the table causing one of the figurines to tumble onto the ground. “Dammit, Rasha! More than half your warriors are gone. We must leave while there is still time. I know King Wuldric would insist on your safe return to Essex.”

Your mother hung her head as if in silent defeat. Her braids dusted the table below her. “My people need their queen and that far outweighs any need of a foreign king,” her voice was just above a whisper. You had to poke your head out of the archway just to hear her clearly. “You need to return to Essex and you need to take Y/N with you. There is no one else I trust more with her life.”

“You cannot stop them,” Sigbert tried to reason with her one last time.

“Then I will have to die trying.” She looked over to you. “I’ll take comfort that my legacy will live on through her.” Your lip began to wobble when you saw her tears flowing, pulling the red and white coloring down her face. You’ve never seen your mother with such sadness in her eyes and you didn’t know why but it frightened you.

Picking you up, she smoothed your hair back as she tried to stop your tears. “Y/N, Be not afraid, you’ll always be safe with Sigbert. He’s taking you home. Home to your king.” She pressed a kiss against your temple, holding you tight to her before passing you over to your new guardian.

As he carried you off to his waiting horse, you reached out your small hand to her, calling out for her, “Mama! Mama!”

You woke up to the bed shifting next to you. You peaked over your shoulder to find Ivar sitting next to you, picking at the food still left on your plate. Though most days you didn’t feel like seeing him, you didn’t feel particularly up to it today.

“Do you know you mumble gibberish in your sleep?” he questioned before shoveling your leftovers in his mouth. “Arn says you’ve stopped eating. Is something wrong with you? Do you need the healer?”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You turned your head away from him, focusing on the knot in the wall again. You heard the clink of the plate being set on the floor before the bed dipped right behind you.

“You know you can talk to me, you don’t have to be afraid.” His warm body was close to you as you felt him twirling your hair around his finger.

You could only laugh mockingly, refusing to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“You can. Anything you say here will not get you in trouble.”

You rolled over to face him, “Anything? Like I can tell how much I dream of climbing on top of you.” His eyes widened as you straddled his waist before you leaned down to press your forearm against his neck. “So I can slice open your throat or stab you in the heart.”

Your threat must have fallen on deaf ears when he smiled up at you, his hands slowly sliding up your thighs and under your dress, “Maybe if you get a hold of another chicken bone, you’ll get your wish.”

You smacked your hand on his chest in annoyance before climbing off him and the bed. Stomping out of the cabin to get some distance from him, you tried to not focus too much on the jolt of electricity that flowed through your body when his rough hands were on you.

You could hear him getting off the bed and the strike of his crutch hitting the ground as he made his way outside.

“Come with me,” Ivar ordered as he passed by you and walked over to his chariot.

You slowly followed him with your arms crossed in front of your chest, standing by and watching as he climbed in. You raised a brow when he held his hand out to you.

“You could walk along with me, my queen, but I think it’ll be faster if you ride with me.”

Pushing his hand away, you grabbed onto the side of the chariot and you pulled yourself in.

He chuckled as he grabbed the reins. “Still stubborn as ever, I see. Maybe nothing is wrong with you.”

---

It felt like it didn’t take long for the horse and chariot to break through the edge of the forest. The trees had cleared out, exposing the bluff that was in the distance. Ivar would come here when he needed to be truly alone with his thoughts but with trying to visit you and with his duties as King, there hadn’t been enough time to come back.

He had been away for some time, busy checking on the stronghold at York. He had hoped you’d be more welcoming to his presence when he arrived at the cabin instead he was informed by Arn that you rarely left your bed and were barely eating despite his efforts. Ivar thought that a change in scenery would heal whatever was ailing you.

When the chariot came to a stop, you made a move to climb out but he gently pushed you back before he stepped down and, once again, held his hand out to you. Rolling your eyes, you finally took his hand and his assistance in getting out from the chariot.

He propped himself up against a large boulder, watching you as you walked toward the edge of the cliff, taking in the view of the bay. You closed your eyes while you took in the ocean air, wind whipping your long curls around as you stood still.

Backing away from the edge, you started making your way towards him. “Is all of that down there your kingdom?”

Ivar tried to not be so excited that you were initiating the conversation for once. “It is. You sound surprised.”

“Well, with how boastful you are, I assumed it to be much smaller,” you smirked as you took a seat on the grass not too far away from him.

While he would have been content sitting in silence with you, there was a question weighing on his mind since he took you from Powys. “Why did you run away?”

“You let me go so I--”

“No, from your kingdom, from your husband.”

You continued to stare straight ahead as if you needed a moment to consider your answer, “I was tired of it. Tired of being his queen.”

Ivar snorted at your response and looked down at you incredulously, “You are an odd woman. You could ask any woman in Kattegat if they would want to be a queen and I don’t think one would tell you no.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to be a queen. I didn’t want to be his queen. I don’t think I desire to be any man’s queen if they’re anything like a Fremund. I’d rather be a queen without a king.”

“There’s a simple solution for that. Just get rid of your king.” He suggested as he made a slow, slicing motion across his neck.

You laughed at what he was insinuating, “I can’t say that the thought never crossed my mind. I think I’d be dead if I ever tried.”

“When we first met, you said that he wanted you to be a proper queen. What would that be?”

“According to Fremund? One that is only seen and not heard. Just a piece of decoration in the room when he’s entertaining other kings or earls,” your voice was dripping with disdain. “My father once told me that iron sharpens iron. ‘A great king should have no intention of trying to change, control, or silence his queen. He should want her to be as strong and as outspoken as him because her strength is a reflection of his own.’ I learned early on in my marriage that my husband didn’t share the same views.”

Ivar didn’t miss the way you touched the side of your face as if you were recalling a bad memory. He wondered if your usual unwillingness to talk wasn’t just because of your need to defy or irritate him but that it was an ingrained trait.

You stared down at the ground, plucking the grass. “That’s when I started to run away. But his men would always find me. I became a prisoner in my own kingdom. He surrounded me with handmaids and his guards and decreed that I was to never be left alone.” You cut your eyes to him with an irritated look on your face. “It’s funny that I am so far from Gwynedd, yet his order still holds.”

He constantly wondered how he could convince you to accept your new home. But he now realized that your instinct was to run when someone tried to control and hold you back. “I think I owe you an apology, Y/N. Maybe I was mistaken to have you kept so close to the cabin. You should be free to explore the lands you live on or to even come back here if you wish.”

You looked pensive as you considered what he was telling you. “So I’m still your prisoner but with a larger jail cell?”

“You will be my guest. I’m giving you the freedom to roam and live as if you were a queen without a king. But you must understand I can’t leave you alone. It’s for your protection. I think we both know that you would get lost in the forest and die if you were left on your own.”

You nodded along in agreement. The furrow of your brow had him prepared for whatever clever comment was about to exit your mouth. “Why haven’t you punished me for going against you?” you wondered. “Fremund would have at least backhanded me for less.”

Ivar walked over to you, offering his hand to you. The sun was getting low, he was needing to get you back home. “Because I am not your husband, I’m not a weak king.”

Without any resistance or roll of your eyes, you placed your hand in his, allowing him to help you up.

He led you to the chariot with his hand at the small of your back. “And I can appreciate a strong queen when she’s right next to me.”

----

Endnote: The quote from Reader’s father is actually one I found from a quick google search. Here’s the actual quote:

“A king had no intention of trying to change, control, or “shut up” a queen. He wants his woman to be as strong and tactfully outspoken as him, with her own mind, because he knows, his woman’s strength is a reflection of his. Iron sharpens iron.”—ebrahim aseem

----

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @ivarsgoddess @tsumamibaddie @akaward-potato @xbellaxcarolinax @kaitieskidmore1 @castielsangelsx

(Edited to fix tags. 😒)

#viking fanfic #ivar the boneless #alex høgh andersen #ivar fanfic #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #alex hogh andersen imagine

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vikingsagine · 4 years

Text

My Religion (Ubbe x Reader)

I like Ubbe, I think he’s hot. An underrated character, he is the least corrupted one of Ragnar’s children. Like come on! He just wanted to live happily with his brother’s as a family but then, sh*t happened like always. I can’t with this guy! He’s too hot for me!

Part One > Don’t need to read, it’s just to see how things started. I write these so you don’t need to start from the beginning because I personally kind of hate that, but just gives enough background <

Summary: You took up lessons with the Viking man and discovered new found desires, sins.

Warnings: Sexism, Ubbe being a sexy.

@ivarthebloodyking @soleil-dor @affection-rabbit

You have learnt, to say the least.

Over the course of the past week, you grew to learn the world of a Viking. Not completely, but had a hint of its differences. Your first lesson with Ubbe felt like a brush with death. He stood you in front of a tree and threw axes, telling you to stand still and to not be afraid. Of course, you didn’t take it well and actually screamed and tried to run away. But eventually with more explanation from Ubbe, you sort-of willingly complied.

The next lesson was more brutal. Ubbe handed you a weapon and said, ‘Defend yourself,’ then attacked. No remorse and no mercy. The man easily beat you over and over and over again, leaving you a bruised mess by the end of the day. You cried many times but did not quit.

Days followed after the other and things grew easier, more tolerable. He taught you to wield other things, a shield, a sword, a spear and an axe. But none caught your interest. They didn’t make you feel empowered or wanting to voluntarily hold it.

However, there were many other lessons you experienced during this time. Not just violence, tears, pain and a respectable resent. It was an attraction.

It all started when you were trying to sharpen your weapon without really knowing what you were doing. Ubbe grew annoyed and caught your hands in his own, angrily pressed himself to your back and took control of your actions. Of course, you don’t remember what he had said and was instead a blushing mess. Stiff and tense, his breath fanned over your cheek. While his calloused hands grasped your delicate fingers with no grace or tender care. Though small and simple, your heart pounded.

***

You were trying to explain to Ubbe about Adam and Eve, the serpent and biting into the forbidden fruit. “How could they not have known they were walking around naked?” Ubbe interrupted, staring at you with furrowed eyebrows and a disbelief look. You huffed.

“Because they didn’t know shame, they had no knowledge of good or evil.” Ubbe frowned, unsatisfied with your answer.

“Even a complete idiot would know when someone’s dick is hanging out.” You let out a shaky breath, combing your hands through your thick locks. “I mean, if Adam and Eve didn’t bite into the fruit, you and I would be naked right now?” You felt your cheeks warm, his blunt behavior catching you off guard.

“Well, technically yes.” The corner of his lip twitched, timidly sliding his eyes down your body in a suggestive way. You consciously crossed your arms and tried to ignore his heated gaze. You felt your stomach flutter, your thighs clenching together as your body reacted in a way it shouldn’t. You turned scarlet red, deciding to tear yourself away from his hooded blue orbs.

Shame. Your attraction taking over your body evoked a pining desire, one that would be deemed punishable under the eyes of your Father. That is when you saw how serious your issue of attraction is. Perhaps it would have been fine if you were betrothed to him and he was a christian man, following under the light of God. Or your Father accepted him. But under all three, he was not. Ubbe is a pagan, believed in more than one God and was nothing but an animal.

***

Now here you were, positioned by your Father and Mother, intrigued in the flicker of bodies. In all the great banquets you have attended with your parents, this was the first that was so lively. Men and women alike joined in, dancing to the rough drums and horns of the vikings. People drank and laughed. Others sat and ate, observing their joyous behavior. And there were those who sat and judged, clear sight of discontent and resent towards such acts. One of which was your Father, mumbling about ‘pagans’ and their unholy grace.

From across the room, you found the sight of your viking mentor. His sandy blonde hair tangled in messy braids, a cup of alcohol pressed against his lips as he spoke to the blonde woman next to him. The strong shield-maiden from the town. You frowned, jealousy creeping up on you. They looked comfortable with one another, they were lovers after all. You huffed and turned your attention elsewhere in hopes of killing the hurt inside.

“What do you say, daughter?” Afton broke your chain of thoughts. There stood one of the older men, a smirk tugging at his lips as he held his hand out to you. “Do you accept?” Clamping your mouth shot, you stared at the man before you. He was dressed in fine clothes, cheeks rosy from alcohol and blonde hair shining. You gave him a small smile, standing up to accept his offer to dance. He led you to the floor and pulled your flush form against his body.

“I am surprised you are not married, you are beautiful.” The lord whispered into your ear, his hand dipping down the small of your back and to your waist. His breath smelt of meat and mead, two flavors that did not go well together.

“My Father doesn’t accept anyone so easily.”

“That is understandable.” This made you furrow your eyebrows and glance up at the thin man, staring up at his large nose and dim blue orbs.

“How so?” His fingers began to slither lower down your side and you squirmed slightly.

“For the future of his legacy, he can’t trade you for any man.” You tighten your grip around him and clench your jaw. A swarming wave of bubbling anger rose, one that would not subside so easily. “It is better to give your daughter away to a man who is wealthy and strong and capable like me.” You bit back your need to roll your eyes as he grinned suggestively. “Because you don’t have any brother’s, the only thing a man can do in his position is pray to God for a grandson.” Your blood ran cold.

“Thank you for this dance my lord.” Stepping away from the belittling being, you bit back your tongue and gave him a sickly sweet smile. Even though there were many other things you wanted to do to him. Now isn’t the time nor place. “I am sure my Father would have enjoyed it.”

“You are not excused.” His soft and clammy hands gripped your forearm, tugged you towards him and glared at you. Daring you to cause a scene and scream. “Just because you are beautiful and your Father is the priest, he will not take so easily to your misbehavior.” His large hand cupped your bottom, grinding himself into your lower region. “Now play nice like a woman should.” This crossed your line and in one swift movement, you pushed your palm against his lips and dug your knee into his groin.

“You should be thankful that I chose to dance with you.” You seethed between your teeth and watched as he curled over in agony, hand clutching his genitals. Because of the loud music and the swirling crowd of people, no one saw the spectacle which is fortunate for you. You took a fistful of your dress and gracefully stomped away, sure to not cause any curious glances.

“You-” The lord leapt out to grab your form but was instead pushed back by the body of another. Ubbe. His eyebrows twitched and then his lips flickered a smirk. You watched in awe as he glared down at the poor excuse of a man, bright blue eyes challenging him to make another move. Instead he stood straight and glanced between you and Ubbe, skeptical but frightened. “Get out of my way pagan, I could have you killed for this.” The lord attempted to barge forward but instead was pushed back by the firm stance of the viking, his body never wavering.

“Leave.” One word, his tone threatening and dangerous. It went straight to your core, making it clench and stir. There were few of those who noticed the skepticism, some of the bystanders who stared with zipped lips and the group of vikings Ubbe was once with. When you drew your attention back, Ubbe was looking at you with an easy smirk. “I saw your little move there, are you sure you are a Christian?” You followed his figure out of the mass of people, standing a few metres away.

“Thank you Ubbe.” You glanced over to your Father to check if he saw, he did not. Too occupied with one of the other men, discussing something that seemed serious.

“I’ll have you know that King Alfred wants to have me baptized.” This piqued your interest. You studied his appearance, dressed in his thick layers of clothes and leather. Beard soft and your fingers itched to feel it, to tug it.

“That means you must renounce your beliefs.” He perched himself onto a beam, leaning against the wall and both of you were out of sight. He took a sip of mead, eyes flickering to your face and the others.

“I know.”

“What will you do?”

“I haven’t decided.” Ubbe drew in a large breath and sat up, patting the space next to him. You obliged, resting against the wall just as he did. He leaned over and held out his cup. “Drink.”

“No, I can’t drink alcohol.” You pushed it away. He frowned, blue eyes absorbing your appearance. You are all too aware of proximity, you felt his leg brush up against yours. “My Father does not allow it.” Being persistent, Ubbe forced the cup of liquor into your hand and concluded.

“My Mother told me when I was younger not to sleep with the slaves, I didn’t listen.” You gaped at him in disbelief but also in embarrassment. Ubbe waited for you to drink the cup of foul liquor, edging you on with his piercing blue orbs. Reluctantly obeying, you took a sip and scrunched your face up in disgust.

“Ew.” Ubbe laughed, pulling it from your hands and sculled it down like it was water. You knew better than to be here in the open with Ubbe, if people saw or more specifically your Father, he would have Ubbe killed and would probably deem your behavior sinful and the sway of the devil. “Is she your wife?” Ubbe surprised from your question, he followed your gaze to the woman you spoke of, Torvi. A lot of people assumed they were lovers where in fact, they were really close friends almost like brother and sister.

“Why? Are you jealous?” Ubbe intended it as a joke to make you grumpy and glare. He found it cute, your small self scowling in an attempt to threaten his larger and powerful being. He expected to be corrected but instead your cheeks turned a bright pink and you looked away. Oh, the viking smirked and inched closer.

“No, I’m not jealous. Envy is a sin.”

“Ah, I see.” Testing the waters, Ubbe pushed his leg more firmly against yours, waiting to see if you would remain still or move away. You stayed. “No, she is not my wife but we are close.” You didn’t know whether to feel gladden or disappointed.

“Oh, so you are...lovers?” With a forced monotone voice you locked eyes with the viking. A mistake on your side because you were instantly bewitched by the thirst behind his sky-like specs. Your lips parted and your thighs clenched.

“Do you think we are lovers?” He leaned in, daring you to cower and sink further into your shell, but something kept you still. Whether it be your burning core or the fluttering in your stomach, you didn’t want to move.

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you?” Swallowing hard, you glanced down to his lips, chapped and pink. You wanted to taste them, feel them, fight with them. Ubbe traced his finger down the side of your face, drawing out a subtle shudder. It was small but he noticed.

“N-no.” He made a clicking noise and jerked back, leaving you in the absence of his remaining touch. As silly as it sounds, electricity coursed through you just from his touch. It left a hot burn on your cheek. “It doesn’t bother me.”

“Shame, I was thinking of kissing you.”

“W-what?” You were flabbergasted, staring at Ubbe with big wide doe eyes. There were many things that took you by surprise. When you found your Father sleeping with another woman, a slave girl, or when you found out where babies came from. They left you stunned but not like this.

“Torvi is a good friend.” Ubbe stood up and hovered before your conflicted being. “But we wouldn’t want to taint your christian lips, hmm.” And just like that, he was gone. Disappeared into the sea of people and left you a confused, wanting and guilty wreck.

This man made you feel emotions. Slithered like the devil’s snake, lulling you to take a bite of a forbidden fruit. And if you did not pull yourself together any sooner, you feared you would lose and succumb to temptation.

#ubbe #ubbe lothbrok #vikings #ubbe fanfiction #ubbe imagine #ubbe x reader #vikings x reader #x reader

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wrestlingisfake · 3 years

Text

All Out preview

Here we go with AEW's annual Labor Day weekend show in Hoffman Estates, just like the original All In show three years ago. I have been going to wrestling shows for days, and it all comes down to this!

The show starts at 8pm EDT, streaming on Bleacher Report (in the US and Canada) and Fite.tv for $49.99. A free pre-show will be available at 7pm EDT.

CM Punk vs. Darby Allin - This is CM Punk's first pro wrestling match since January 26, 2014, when he spent 49 minutes in the Royal Rumble working with a staph infection and a possible concussion. The following night he walked out of WWE, leading to seven and a half years of debate about what is next move would/should be. Two weeks ago he debuted with AEW and declared that he wanted to help the younger talent, starting with a match against Allin. Allin, for his part, took some exception to being the first opponent, as if he's just a stepping stone to bigger matches.

The big issue here is seeing how well Punk, 42, has held up after seven years away. I've seen reports that he's looking good in training, but you just don't know until the bell rings. Regardless, I expect the hometown crowd to be very forgiving to Punk, and Allin is good enough to carry the match if he really has to.

I feel like I ought to have more to say about this, but it also feels like everything's been said. I can't believe Punk would lose his first match in. But I can believe that if Punk insisted on doing the job, AEW would let him do that. It'd be unusual for the returning guy to come up short, but New Japan does that sometimes and it can work as a longer build to the first win. Still, it is Chicago (sort of), so my gut says Punk wins to let us feel special.

Kenny Omega vs. Christian Cage - Omega is defending the AEW men's world title. For months, Omega held four different belts, representing championships in AEW, AAA, and Impact Wrestling. But on August 13 Christian defeated Omega for the Impact/TNA world title (and later retired the TNA belt), leaving Kenny more vulnerable than ever. The AAA and Impact titles aren't at stake in this match, so no matter who what happens the winner will be a double champion.

Cage is a great wrestler, but not a great challenger for this match. For months the storytelling pointed towards Hangman Page in this spot, but Page was abruptly written off television so he could take paternity leave. I don't think anybody resents Christian for filling in, but nobody really expects the 47-year-old, recently returned from a seven-year retirement, to win the big one. It's also a rematch of something we already saw a few weeks ago, which isn't a big deal but it's a bit of a talking point when everyone is always dogging WWE for excessive rematches.

The big go-home angle on September 1 was that Omega, the Young Bucks, and their buddies destroyed Christian, the Lucha Bros., and their buddies. After the show went off the air Tony Khan promised that this kind of bullshit interference wouldn't happen in the Bucks-Lucha Bros. cage match. Well, okay, but this match doesn't have a steel cage, so I have a feeling there will be plenty of bullshit interference. And I'm willing to bet that interference gives Omega the win while somewhat protecting Christian.

Matt Jackson & Nick Jackson vs. Penta El 0M & Rey Fenix - The Young Bucks (Matt and Nick) are defending the AEW tag team title. The Lucha Bros. won a four-team tournament to earn this shot. The Bucks have relied on a lot of outside interference from their entourage lately, so to counter that this match will be held inside a steel cage. In AEW, the only way to win a cage match is by pinfall or submission.

I was at All Out 2019 when these teams last met in a crazy ladder match (which feels like a million years ago). Everyone raved about it, and also worried that the Bucks damn near killed themselves. Personally I had a really shitty view of the ring, which made it hard to follow the match. This time I've got a much better view, so I'm looking forward to some good karma.

In theory the Bucks have sworn off doing the dangerous shit from the ladder match, but technically this is a cage match so maybe they'll just do different dangerous shit. Personally I'm more intrigued by seeing them change their game to fit in the confines of the cage, which doesn't lend itself to springboard flips off the ropes. But the cage has places to stand at the top, which will encourage the idea of setting up crazy highspots.

I feel like a title change is possible, but I could just as easily see the Bucks hold the belts for another six months. Santana and Ortiz seem to be next in line for a shot, and honestly I think that would work with either of these teams. But I guess I'll lean towards the Bucks retaining.

Chris Jericho vs. MJF - MJF defeated Jericho on November 7, 2020, to earn entry into Jericho's stable, the Inner Circle. MJF inevitably betrayed Jericho and formed his own stable, the Pinnacle, which beat the Inner Circle on May 5, 2021. Jericho was so determined to get revenge that he accepted MJF's terms to perform five "labors" to earn a rematch, but MJF beat Jericho once again on August 18, 2021. So now MJF is 3-0 against Jericho. (For some reason we're counting the ten-man match on May 5 but not the other one on May 30, which Jericho's team won, but whatever.) To get this final rematch, Jericho has put his career on the line.

Suddenly everything else in this storyline has taken a back seat to the idea that this may really be the end of Chris Jericho's 30-year in-ring career. There are plenty of fans who think Jericho, 50, should hang it up, but now that it might actually happen I think people aren't so sure they're ready for it all to end. The timing for Jericho to tease this is perfect, because he could easily just win and go another couple of years, or he could easily just finish today.

Part of what makes this work so well is MJF. I think everyone recognizes that MJF is going to be a top name in the 2020s, and that Jericho wants to make this guy. So it's like, if Jericho can get retired by anyone he wants, why wouldn't he pick MJF? I think the match will feel a little flat if Jericho comes up short yet again, but if it's the end of his career it suddenly doesn't matter if he's lost too many times, y'know?

Still, something tells me this isn't the end. Something tells me Jericho has more he wants to do. And something tells me, in a few years, we may be wondering if it would have been better if he retired on this show.

Britt Baker vs. Kris Statlander - Baker is defending the AEW women's world title. I expect to like this match but there's not really much to it. Baker was feuding with Red Velvet a while back and then Statlander made the save for Velvet. Baker and her crony Rebel have brought in Jamie Hayter to stack the deck against Statlander and Velvet. I think it's way too soon for Baker to drop the title, and I don't expect Kris to be the one to take it from her. So this is kind of a formality to kill time until Baker vs. Thunder Rosa down the road.

Miro vs. Eddie Kingston - Miro's AEW TNT championship is on the line. Somehow in the past year Miro has gone from Kip Sabian's gamer buddy to a monster heel who thinks God has anointed him to beat the shit out of people. Kingston has gone from a gutless heel to the most beloved guy in AEW. Wrestling is great.

Anyway, I love both of these guys, but I can't just bet that all the wrestlers have a good time. If Eddie's going to win a championship, it really ought to be in New York. I realize Chicago is AEW's favorite and we get all the good shit, but I've had my CM Punk ice cream and I'm maaaaaybeee going to get the Bryan Danielson debut too, so I'm willing to let New York have this one thing. Just this one time.

Jon Moxley vs. Satoshi Kojima - Moxley is the new GCW world champion following a surprise appearance at last night's GCW show; I assume that does not turn this into a title match. Moxley told top contender Nick Gage "you know where to find me," and it's anyone's guess if Gage will show up here to accept that invitation.

Mox is a busy boy making friends everywhere he goes. For a few weeks he was angling for a match with a top New Japan Pro Wrestling star on this show. The leading candidate was Hiroshi Tanahashi, but several other interesting names were discussed by fans and pundits alike. After that buzz, Kojima is a bit of a letdown.

Don't get me wrong, it's cool to get a guy who's held the IWGP heavyweight title, the All Japan Triple Crown, and the NWA world title. Kojima's a legend. But at this stage of his career, he's the guy New Japan sends when the real stars aren't available. Besides which, my cup runneth over when it comes to 50-year-old guys showing up to prove they can wrestle like they're 40. And I don't think anybody really believes Kojima can beat Moxley.

Ideally, this match should end with a video message from a bigger New Japan name calling out Moxley. I'm not confident that will happen. Then again, at this point I wouldn't be surprised if Moxley showed up in NXT UK to pick a fight with WALTER.

Paul Wight vs. QT Marshall - Formerly the Giant in WCW and the Big Show in WWE, Wight debuted with AEW earlier this year as a color commentator. QT and his goons were picking on Wight's broadcast partner Tony Schiavone when Wight intervened, setting up this match.

I was actually kind of into the idea of this until Marshall showed photos of Wight's recent hip surgery. Up to that point, they'd managed to keep me from noticing if Wight could move okay, and I was willing to accept he could do a basic squash match without a problem. But now I just assume he's broken down and he'll need a lot of smoke and mirrors to do even a simple match. Maybe that's the plan, to get me to lower my expectations and be pleasantly surprised. I sure hope it works out.

I'm about 95% sure Wight clobbers QT and just wins handily. There's a chance QT's squad pulls enough shenanigans to get a bullshit win, but I'm not sure what the point would be.

21-woman Casino Battle Royale - This is AEW's funky concept for a gauntlet battle royale. Five women start the match, and then every five minutes another wave of five enters; the 21st entrant gets to come out alone. Eliminations can occur at any time, by exiting the ring over the top rope to the floor. The last woman left after the others have been eliminated is declared the winner, and receives a future title match against the AEW women's champion.

AEW has announced 20 participants: Abadon, Anna Jay, Big Swole, Diamante, Emi Sakura, Hikaru Shida, Jade Cargill, Jamie Hayter, Kiera Hogan, KiLynn King, Leyla Hirsch, Nyla Rose, Penelope Ford, Rebel, Red Velvet, Riho, Skye Blue (a late substitution for Julia Hart), Tay Conti, The Bunny, Thunder Rosa.

The 21st spot has been left open for a surprise. Ruby Soho (formerly Ruby Riott in WWE) is widely expected to join AEW, and this would be a sensible spot for that to happen. But there are other women who could potentially debut here as a swerve.

I always want to pick the surprise entrant to win these things, but they really haven't done all that well in AEW battle royales. I could see them giving the win to, say, Big Swole, and just having Britt Baker beat her a few weeks later on Dynamite. Or Thunder Rosa could win to set up a major program for the next pay-per-view. They have a lot of options, which makes it hard to predict but fun to watch.

Orange Cassidy & Chuck Taylor & Wheeler YUTA & Luchasaurus & Jungle Boy vs. Matt Hardy & Marq Quen & Isiah Kassidy & Jack Evans & Angelico - This is booked for the pre-show. Hardy's heel group has been feuding with most of the midcard babyfaces for months. I don't expect this match will blow off the feud, but it'd be nice if it did so we could move on to something else. Orange's team should probably win.

#aew #all out #cm punk #darby allin #kenny omega #christian cage #the young bucks #lucha bros #cannot *believe* i managed to get this done

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hysterialevi · 3 years

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Eitr | Chapter 4

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Sorry for the longer wait for this chapter guys. I hit a bit of a writer’s block >.< Hope you like it though!

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE

Trudging along behind Algar’s vast strides, Sigurd dragged himself through the castle as he followed the housecarl to the throne room, admittedly struggling to keep up with his brisk pace.

His body was screaming at him to sit down and have a rest somewhere with all the wounds that still littered his flesh, but considering the amount of eyes that were lingering on him at the moment, Sigurd didn’t dare let himself collapse.

All around him, Saxons of every kind stopped dead in their tracks to stare at their peculiar guest as they murmured to each other in nervousness, speculating about what the purpose of his visit could’ve been. Guards and civilians alike followed his every move with a sense of fear sharpening their eyes, and if Sigurd didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Algar led him down this path on purpose.

There were a dozen different ways to reach the throne room -- many of which were far more discreet -- but given how Sigurd was one breath away from being a walking corpse, it was hardly any surprise that Algar decided to go with the most blatant.

After all, what better chance would he have to humiliate his prisoner? It was a well-known fact that the housecarl shared his ealdorman’s hatred for Danes, and seeing as how Sigurd was practically clothed in nothing except for bandages at the moment, it was the perfect opportunity for Algar to parade him around like a dog on a leash.

Sigurd just hoped he wasn’t being led into a death trap. He could see that this whole ordeal gave the housecarl a malevolent sense of joy, and considering the fact that nearly everyone in the castle hated his kind, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it turned out to be his demise.

“...How does it feel, Norse?” Algar taunted, not even bothering to slow down.

Sigurd gripped his waist, refusing to let the pain hinder him. “Two arrows were fired into my chest and I was thrown into the river -- all after being battered by soldiers. You tell me.”

The housecarl chuckled. “Oh, I wasn’t talking about that.”

Algar gestured at the spectating crowds around them, keeping his voice low so that only Sigurd could hear him.

“I meant, how does it feel, now that all these people have seen you for what you are? A sick, hobbling wretch of a man presented to the world in his God-given form? They’ve heard stories about the Danes, you see. Horrifying tales that speak of the barbaric deeds your people have committed. They fear you. And that fear gives you strength.”

Sigurd pressed a hand against the wall, doing his best to stay upright as the housecarl continued to speak.

“But now... you’re alone. You’ve no clan to protect you, and no shield to hide behind. Your longships lay abandoned on the shores of foreign lands, and these poor souls can finally see you for your true self. A coward.”

The viking ignored Algar’s taunts, not wishing to indulge the man.

“Is that so? And tell me, Saxon, do you goad all your prisoners like this? Or is it just me?”

Algar threw him a glare. “No. When it comes to most Danes in your position, I normally just put a sword through their skull. But for whatever reason, Lord Aegenwulf has taken an interest in you, and so, I shall stay my blade for the moment. But know this -- should you try anything that might endanger the safety of our ealdorman, or the safety of his children, you will wish that we left you in that river to drown.”

Sigurd sped up slightly, walking side-by-side with Algar. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Good. Then follow me, and stay in your place.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE THRONE ROOM

Limping towards the doors of the throne room, Sigurd silently trailed behind Algar whilst the gargantuan man headed into the great hall ahead of him, announcing their arrival to the ealdorman.

The viking could feel a tight grip of anxiety growing in his chest as he approached the entrance, and upon stepping into the ominous atmosphere of the main hall, he suddenly felt as if the stone walls were closing in on him like a cage.

It felt more akin to a dungeon than a place of nobility in here. The very foundation of the castle seemed to hold onto its occupants with a suffocating clutch, and as Algar delved further into the lion’s den, Sigurd spotted the ealdorman himself sitting at the end of the hall.

At the moment, Lord Aegenwulf was currently slouching in his throne as if the burdens of his position physically weighed him down, and the grim expression on his face did little to help.

His eyes reflected the sullen climate of the throne room like a shattered mirror, and just based on the manner in which his gaze snapped onto Algar, the viking assumed that the man was not pleased about this unexpected turn of events.

“Lord Aegenwulf,” Algar called, kneeling respectfully before him. “I bring the Norse you wished to see.”

The ealdorman exchanged a quick glance with one of the men standing at his side -- most-likely another lord, based on his attire -- and beckoned the housecarl with a simple flick of the hand.

“Show him to me.” He commanded.

Algar instantly rose to his feet and stormed over to Sigurd, grabbing the Norse by the back of the neck before hurling him to the floor.

A pained hiss escaped Sigurd’s lips upon hitting the ground, and without even looking down at his body, the man already knew he had reopened one of his wounds.

“Here he is, my lord.” Algar presented.

Glancing upwards from his position, Sigurd observed Aegenwulf with a newfound interest as the ealdorman did the same, both of them silently examining the other.

Aegenwulf was a lean, middle-aged man with a head of grey hair that sat just above his shoulders, and had a long goatee adorning his chin. His expression was crippled with a prominent touch of remorse, and in the darkness that clung onto his piercing glare, Sigurd could detect an intense hatred burning within him like a fire that was just beginning to ignite.

As for the subjects surrounding him, Sigurd also spotted a younger-looking man standing beside Aegenwulf’s throne, quietly watching the scene unfold. The young man had a head of brown hair that was shaved in a way similar to that of Joseph’s, and judging by the striking resemblance between him and the ealdorman, Sigurd assumed he must’ve been his son.

“So...” Aegenwulf began, watching the viking with the eyes of a hawk, “you are the man whom my children rescued. I’ve heard much about you since your... fortuitous arrival. You’ve caused quite a stir in Forangal with your presence.” He paused for a moment. “...What is your name, Norse?”

Sigurd mindlessly kept his gaze on the ealdorman’s son, unable to deny that he was somewhat captivated by the man.

“...Sigurd.”

Aegenwulf fidgeted with the ornament on the throne’s armrest, furrowing his brow in thought.

“Sigurd...” he repeated. “And tell me, Sigurd, of which clan do you hail?”

The Norse fell silent, hesitant to answer the question. He did not know whether or not the ealdorman was aware of his true identity, but considering what Edlynne told him earlier about the death of her brother, he decided it would be best to keep his clan a secret for the time being.

“I... don’t have a clan.” He settled with. Aegenwulf eyed him skeptically.

“A lone Norse wandering a hostile kingdom without a clan? Odd. How long have you been alone?”

“For many years now, my lord. It’s what I’ve always done.”

Aegenwulf traced the side of his temple with a finger, barely shifting his expression. “...I see. And what brought you to Wedenscire? What business have you in these lands?”

“I did not come here by choice. I was ambushed by soldiers and thrown into the river. The water’s current carried me to Agenbury. There, a man found me washed up on the shore, and then your children brought me to this castle.”

The ealdorman processed the viking’s claims and leaned forward in his seat, holding Sigurd in suspense as he pondered his next words.

“Well, Sigurd... regardless of who you are, or whatever your intentions may be, I must admit that I am intrigued by you. You appear to be no different from your pagan brethren, and yet... it is clear to me that there is something unique about you. After all, it is rare for a Norse to offer candor to a Saxon.”

Sigurd perked his head up in curiosity. “Candor? How could you know--”

“--Your story matches the one my son told me.” Aegenwulf explained, gesturing to the young man. “We spoke long before you arrived. Edric was the one who brought you to our healer.”

Sigurd glanced at the young man, wary about where this was going.

“You saved me?”

Edric’s tone remained firm. “At my siblings’ request, yes. But do not mistake my mercy for friendship. I’m not in the habit of saving stray Danes.”

“I see.”

The viking turned back to Aegenwulf, eager to get this over with.

“And you, my lord? Do you share his views? Have you summoned me here for a simple conversation, or do you intend to execute me?”

Aegenwulf leaned back in his throne, his demeanor calm as always.

“Neither. I was going to send you to the headsman’s axe initially, but after much thought and consideration... my son has persuaded me that, perhaps, you would be more useful to me alive than dead.”

Algar shifted a brow at that. “Ealdorman?”

“Hush, Algar,” the older man urged, picking up on his housecarl’s disapproval. “This decision was not easily made, but I believe it is the wisest course of action, given the alternative outcomes.”

Aegenwulf brought his attention back to Sigurd, explaining his plan.

“Listen to me carefully, Sigurd the Lone Wolf. I have brought you here for one reason, and one reason alone. From this day forth, you are not to be regarded as an enemy in this hall, but instead, as an asset. You will be indentured to me.”

The ealdorman pointed a finger at the viking, giving him a single command.

“You will be responsible for protecting my children. You will act as their personal bodyguard, and defend them with your life. Your job will be to eliminate any threats that should endanger them -- including your own people. No matter the cost.”

Sigurd found himself at a loss for words. Was Aegenwulf being serious? Or was this simply a test of some sort? Surely, he would not place this much faith in a stranger, let alone a Norse. After all, he had just lost one of his own children to their people.

“...Me?” He questioned, baffled by the situation. “Why me? Why not choose somebody else?”

“Because you are the one my son saved,” Aegenwulf answered. “A tremendous amount of effort has gone into keeping you afloat these past two days, and there’s also the fact that our healer, Linette, used a decent portion of her resources to nurse you back to health.”

He tilted his head at Sigurd.

“I believe it is only fair that you repay them for their compassion, wouldn’t you agree? You may not be able to pay them back in silver, but I have heard of the tenacity of Norse warriors. It would be a waste to throw your battle prowess away.”

Algar stepped forward, incredulous about the decision. “My lord, I must protest! This man is a Norse; a viking! He is a man of the enemy, and cannot be trusted. It would be foolish to place your children’s lives in the hands of this pagan!”

Aegenwulf gave him a cautionary glare. “Are you implying that I am foolish, housecarl?”

“N-No, of course not, ealdorman. But I do not think it would be wise to entrust this man with the safety of our people! He is--”

“--Well, fortunately, it’s not your decision to make.” Aegenwulf interrupted. “My children claim that this man can be trusted, so let him prove it. He knows the consequences that will arise should he fail, and I am confident that he will do everything he can to ensure that that doesn’t happen...” He glanced at Sigurd. “...Right?”

Sigurd nodded hesitantly, still taken aback by this path he had suddenly been thrown on. “O-Of course, my lord.”

“Good. Then we have nothing more to discuss.”

Aegenwulf looked at his son, instructing the young man to come forth.

“Edric, take Sigurd to the armory. It will be a while before he’s able to recover, but I want his equipment to be prepared in the meantime.”

“...Yes, father.” Edric replied in a cross tone. “As you wish.”

The young man stepped away from his position at the throne and descended the small stairs that led up to it, beckoning Sigurd to follow him with a simple jerk of the head.

“Come along then, Norse. And don’t fall behind.”

Watching Edric storm off, Sigurd slowly stood up from the floor and rose back to his feet, careful not to reopen any other wounds. Meanwhile, Aegenwulf remained seated in his throne, uttering one last phrase before dismissing the viking.

“Remember, Sigurd, we are all watching you. I may have spared your life for today, but if I so much as suspect that you have betrayed my trust, I will bring unto you a retribution so fierce that it will shake you even in death.”

Sigurd nodded assuredly at Aegenwulf. “...I understand, my lord.”

“Very well. Then be off with you. My son awaits you in the armory, and I expect you to take up your duties as soon as you are able. Until then, may you walk with God.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A WHILE LATER

THE ARMORY

Following Edric down the lengthy corridor, Sigurd found himself feeling much more relieved now that he was out of Algar’s reach and away from the throne room’s premises, leaving him with a brief sense of peace.

The ealdorman’s son didn’t appear to be any more thrilled than the housecarl to have a new Norse roaming around their halls, but at the very least, he didn’t show any intentions of driving a blade through his heart either.

Though, Sigurd had to admit, he was curious about the young man’s true motivations. It was quite obvious that he held no love for the Danes or their people, and even though he claimed to have saved Sigurd at the behest of his siblings, the viking still had to wonder if that was truly the case.

After all, was it really enough to convince someone to risk their safety purely based on their family’s wishes alone? Regardless of how much Edric may have loved Joseph and Edlynne, the truth of the matter was -- they were at war.

There was no love to be found between Saxons and Danes -- especially in this shire -- and despite the honorable demeanor Sigurd may have carried, the young man really had no reason to trust him. He was still a complete stranger in the man’s eyes, and so the fact that Edric went out of his way to convince his father to spare Sigurd only made the viking more confused.

“So...” Edric suddenly said, pulling the other man from his thoughts, “you’re Sigurd. You were in quite a state the last time I saw you. Part of me was convinced you wouldn’t wake up.”

Sigurd caught onto his tone. “Disappointed that I did?”

“Let’s just say that Danes aren’t exactly reputable around here. They’ve brought much pain to our lands, and so far, I have no reason to believe you won’t do the same.”

The viking couldn’t help but throw back a humorous retort. “Well, good thing I’m a Norse, then.”

Edric sighed in annoyance. “Norse, Dane -- it makes no difference. You’re all pagans in my eyes. My father may have entrusted you with my life, but that does not mean I’m willing to hand it over.”

“You know, for someone who went through the trouble of rescuing me, you don’t seem too enthusiastic to have me around.”

“And why should I be? My siblings may pray for your recovery, but that is only because they are naive to the horrors of this war. They have not seen the cruelty of your people, nor what they did to our brother.”

Sigurd switched to a more serious tone. “...Yes, Edlynne told me about Gareth.”

Edric glanced at him. “Did she? I suppose I’m not surprised. She seems to be drawn to you. But what she says is true. Gareth was killed about a month ago. Near Grantebridge. It happened during an assault. The Danes just... cut him down like some sort of animal. We received word about it a week later.”

The viking’s expression sank with empathy. “Do you know who’s responsible for his death?”

The man glowered in anger. “We do, actually. According to Algar’s scouts, it was the Raven Clan who brought his life to an end.”

Sigurd shook his head in disbelief. “...Are you certain? I have crossed paths with the Raven Clan before, and I can assure you, they are not the type to display such unnecessary cruelty. They have always been men and women of honor.”

Edric scoffed. “Your people and mine have very different definitions of honor, Sigurd. We consider mercy and justice to be honorable traits. Your people would sacrifice a defenseless man to one of their gods all in the name of war.”

The ealdorman’s son decided to drop the subject and ended the conversation with a huff, making haste to their destination.

“But enough of that. We’ve reached the armory. You can find gear for yourself in here.”

Swinging open the iron-braced door, Edric stepped aside and allowed Sigurd to go in first, revealing a room full of valuable equipment.

All around him, there were racks decorated with a wide variety of swords, shields, axes, flails -- and in the center of the room, there stood an impressive array of armored models, glimmering in the light like a shining mirror.

“Have a look around,” Edric said, leaning against a wall. “I doubt any of this armor will actually fit a man of your stature, but when you find something you like, we’ll take it to our blacksmith and have him adjust it for you. Be mindful, though. Some of it is heavier than it looks.”

Walking up to one of the armor displays, Sigurd took a moment to examine its durability and leaned closer to the outfit, meticulously observing its components.

The first layer was made up of a suit of chainmail that draped over the entire body and had a light gambeson to pad it underneath, similar to the one Edric wore. It was protected by a sturdy shell of plate armor that covered all the limbs, and had a full helm sitting atop its shoulders.

A fashionable cape bearing the sigil of Aegenwulf’s house hung from the pauldrons, and upon further inspection, Sigurd noticed that extra care had been put into making sure there were very few weak points for a blade to sneak in.

It was very impressive in its design, but despite its resistant nature and ability to block out any attacks, Sigurd couldn’t help but note how unbearably dense it was.

The multiple layers of armor made it almost impossible for its wearer to move around freely, and just based on how much it seemed to strain the model that it currently rested on, Sigurd assumed it would’ve been more of a burden than a benefit.

“Do you have anything lighter than this?” He asked Edric, gesturing to the suit.

The young man shook his head. “That is the light armor. You want something heavy, you should take a look at what Algar is wearing.”

Sigurd tapped his knuckles against the armor’s chest, emitting a metallic clang. “This is the light armor? How can anyone fight while wearing this? It’s far too restrictive.”

Edric walked next to Sigurd, observing the display with him.

“Well, it’s made out of metal. Of course it’s going to be heavy. I’m not sure what your warriors wear, but this is what our soldiers have always used.”

The viking crossed his arms, throwing yet another humorous reply at him. “Hmm. Well, as thick as your armor is, I’m afraid it hinders you. Much like your own skull.”

The Saxon grew irritated. “Look, just pick something, alright? If you are to be my guardian, I’d sleep far better at night knowing you were properly equipped for the job. You can’t bloody well fight in your loins.”

Sigurd grinned. “...Is that a challenge?”

Edric sighed deeply. “Lord grant me patience. I’m going to regret this.”

The Norse let out a soft chuckle, amused at the nobleman’s vexed mood. Before he could carry on with his search though, a sudden thought appeared in his mind, providing him with a possible compromise.

“What about my old armor? Do you still have it?”

“You mean the one you were wearing when we fetched you out the river? I believe so, but most of it has been ruined. The only parts of it you could salvage would probably be the tunic and the cloak.”

Sigurd was satisfied with that. “Then it will be enough. I can use the the tunic instead of the gambeson. It will be less protection, but I’ll be able to move faster.”

Edric shrugged in defeat. “Very well. Whatever works for you. Just make sure you’re able to fight at your best. I can defend myself well enough, but it’s my siblings that I fear for.”

The viking began removing the armor from the display. “Have no fear, my lord. Joseph and Edlynne went to great lengths to save me. I won’t allow any harm to come to them.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Edric strode over to the armory’s entrance, saying one last thing before taking his leave.

“I’ll find Linette and ask her where she’s keeping your old gear. In the meantime, you focus on bringing that armor to our blacksmith. He’ll make sure it fits you to the bone, and can possibly even find you a new weapon to wield. Just be quick about it.”

Sigurd nodded. “Understood. Oh, and one more thing, my lord?”

The young man glanced at him. “Yes? What is it?”

He softened his voice. “...Thank you. For convincing your father to spare me.”

Edric turned away from Sigurd, reluctant to open up to the man. “I did not save you out of kindness, Norse. Do not forget that. You are simply an asset to my father. No more, no less.”

The viking smiled in return. “Still, I owe you my life. Even if your motivations were not the most... noble, you have done more than most Saxons would. And I thank you for that.”

Edric pretended to brush off Sigurd’s remarks, but the Norse could tell he was appreciative.

“Well, just make sure you do your part. My father is taking a great risk trusting you like this, and I would not see it be in vain.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THAT NIGHT

SIGURD’S QUARTERS

Standing in the midst of his new quarters, Sigurd rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck as he adjusted to his suit of armor, trying to get a feel for its limitations.

The armor was far heavier than the one he used to wear during his time with the Raven Clan, but unfortunately for the viking, his Saxon friends seemed to value protection over agility, and thus, he had been forced to settle for this shell of metal.

It would take some time for Sigurd to adapt to its hefty design, what with all the plates of iron that now sat on his limbs, but luckily, not all of it was Saxon craftsmanship.

Beneath the layer of chainmail, Sigurd wore the same tunic that he always adorned back when he still had his Dane armor, and instead of keeping the cape that once hung from the pauldrons, he had substituted the accessory with his signature fur cloak, allowing him to walk freely without fear of tangling a cape between his legs.

It wasn’t exactly the type of protection that Sigurd would’ve normally settled for, but considering the alternative options he saw in the armory, he supposed it was the best he was going to get for now.

Strolling over to his bed, Sigurd took a seat on the edge and let himself rest for a moment, finally giving his wounds the chance they needed to heal. It had been a long day of running around all over the castle and tending to his duties, but even with everything that had happened already, the viking still found himself unable to comprehend his new reality.

Just this morning, he had been a prisoner of Aegenwulf and awaited his possible execution in the throne room, wondering if he’d even live long enough to see the sunset.

Everyone in this castle regarded him as nothing more than a lapdog for the ealdorman, and thanks to all the secrecy that surrounded his presence, a plethora of rumors had sparked amongst the pandemonium, causing people to grow even more fearful of him.

But now... here he was, a personal bodyguard for the ealdorman’s children, and sitting in his own chambers. He had been given a chance to start a new life, and possibly, even find out what happened to the rest of his clan.

It was the stuff of sagas, Sigurd thought, to go through what he had endured. Part of him wondered if this was all some dream and if he was still floating in the river, but if this was the path that the Nornir had lain out before him, Sigurd had no intentions of fighting against it.

He truly believed that everyone was tied into a certain fate, after all, and he could not deny that he was curious to see where his led to.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, an unexpected knock suddenly emitted from the door, leading Sigurd to gaze in its direction.

“One moment.” He said, pushing himself up from the bed.

Walking over to the entrance, Sigurd pulled the door open and immediately felt his heart tighten with worry as he laid eyes on his guest, finding none other than Algar himself standing on the other side.

“Good evening, my lord.” The housecarl greeted with a malicious grin. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

Sigurd’s tone flattened with frustration. “What is it you want, Algar? Is there something you need from me? Or have you come to taunt me more?”

Algar shook his head. “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I simply came to make sure that your new quarters are to your liking.”

The viking crossed his arms. “So I see. And what’s the real reason?”

The other man laughed. “Distrustful one, aren’t you? Can a man not take care of his friends without arousing suspicion anymore? I only wish to see how well you fare. After all, I’m certain that these chambers must dim in comparison to the quarters you once had.”

Sigurd furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you were a jarl, were you not? Before you came to Wedenscire?”

The Norse fell silent at that, suddenly feeling a sense of alarm. What exactly was going on here?

Algar chuckled at Sigurd’s concerned expression and stepped closer to the man, prowling towards him like a beast.

“...Oh, yes. I know who you are, son of Styrbjorn. I must admit, you took me by surprise when I first saw you in Linette’s infirmary. I was certain my men had finished you off back in Ravensthorpe... but it appears I was not nearly as thorough as I thought.”

Sigurd glared at Algar with the gaze of a lion, clenching his jaw in anger.

“...You?” He whispered vehemently, his eyes widened with shock. “You were the one who destroyed my home...?”

The housecarl nodded casually. “Indeed. Under Aegenwulf’s command. He sought vengeance after the death of his son, you see, and I was more than willing to help. It took me quite a while to track your clan down and devise an assault, but once everything was in place, your village burned like firewood. Even your own brother could not defend his people.”

Sigurd stared at Algar directly in the eye, his gaze practically piercing through the man’s skull.

“What did you do to Eivor?”

Algar smiled widely, revealing a row of yellow-tinted teeth. “...Only what he deserved.”

The housecarl reached into his pouch and pulled out a specific item, presenting it to Sigurd in his palm. The item appeared to be a small blade decorated with golden plating and green jewels, and--

...Wait.

Sigurd froze in horror.

No. It couldn’t be. Was that...?

“Your brother’s most prized possession,” Algar explained. “A concealed blade that we tore from his wrist after he died. The weapon was damaged in our little scuffle, but I decided to keep it nonetheless. ‘Tis a thing of beauty, after all.”

Sigurd suddenly felt a newfound rage kindling inside him and lurched at the housecarl, causing the other man to pin him against the wall.

“Now, now...” Algar taunted, restraining the viking’s wrists in his grasp, “let’s not do anything foolish, shall we?”

Sigurd struggled relentlessly in his hold, completely forgetting about his injuries now. “I’ll gut you, you argr dog...!”

The Saxon smirked. “I wouldn’t recommend that, not after Aegenwulf has placed so much trust in you. You’re quite fortunate, you know? I tried to inform him of your true identity back in the throne room, but it seems his halfwitted son got into his ear before I could.”

“Then why not tell him now?” Sigurd growled. “Why waste your time tormenting me?”

“Because regardless of our disagreements, Aegenwulf is right about one thing. You are clearly much stronger than you look. Most Saxons would consider the Wolf-Kissed to be the best warrior in your clan, and yet, you managed to survive where he could not. You evaded death against all odds, and found a place amongst our nobility, despite being a Norse. You are a warrior in a world of weaklings, and it would be foolish to waste your skills.”

Algar leaned forward, twisting Sigurd’s arm in his grip. “But do not mistake my compliance for absolution. If you step even a toe out of line, you can be certain that Aegenwulf will be informed of who you really are.”

He threw Sigurd to the ground, looming over him like a shadow.

“What happens now depends entirely on you, Sigurd. You can either follow Aegenwulf’s orders like a good little boy and live your life as the Lone Wolf, or pursue this pointless quest for revenge and die as the jarl who failed to protect his people. The decision is yours. Choose wisely.”

Leaving the viking alone with his thoughts, Algar stomped out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him, causing a loud thud to echo throughout the chamber as the torches flickered in the wind.

Meanwhile, Sigurd remained fallen on the floor like a discarded corpse and clenched his fists in agony, completely devastated by the news he just heard.

There was no way Eivor could be dead. Not like this.

Eivor was strong; stronger than any of them. He always carried the favor of the gods ever since he was a child, and achieved the impossible as if it were nothing.

Sigurd refused to believe that a battered, old hound such as Algar himself could defeat him. He must’ve been mistaken.

Sigurd survived the ambush in Ravensthorpe, so why couldn’t he?

Until he saw Eivor’s corpse with his own two eyes, the viking promised himself that he wouldn’t give up on the man, no matter how daunting the path ahead may have seemed. There was more to this than Algar was letting on, and Sigurd intended to dig up the full truth -- even if it would cost him his life.

He would have to play along with Aegenwulf’s plans for now, for the sake of staying alive. But when the time came, Sigurd would overcome this obstacle that the gods had placed in front of him, and reclaim his honor as a drengr worthy of Valhalla’s halls.

It was what Eivor would’ve wanted for him, Sigurd assumed. The Wolf-Kissed was a warrior of legendary renown, and if what Algar said really was the truth, then Sigurd did not wish for his brother to roam the fields of Fólkvangr alone.

It was the only fate acceptable for a bloodline such as his, and he did not intend to let it slip by.

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