thought ripples

this is love

aged up to 20/21

song of this fic is sober by bazzi

eddie kaspbrak was in pain.

and no, it wasn’t because he foolishly had drank too much the night before and had a raging headache. it wasn’t because his voice was hoarse and his throat was sore from the screaming out his sorrows. and no, it wasn’t from the cut above his eyebrow left untreated because the drunken haze afflicted on him last night.

no, this kind of pain was one that burrowed into your skin and festered into something dangerous. the type of pain that bruised you, that haunted you throughout all your days, and most horribly, your nights. this pain you couldn’t escape. this pain was love.

eddie kaspbrak was in love.

he looked beside him at the mess of curls laying on his pillow. his eyes traced the trail of freckles dusted upon perfect cheekbones and a structured nose. eddie’s small fingers reached and ran themselves through the dark locks, brushing his thumb along his bed mate’s plump bottom lip.

suddenly eddie remembered how these things went. eddie retracted his hand like he’d been burned, tears threatening to spill out his eyes. no matter how many times they’d been in bed together, how many drunken confessions they’d shared, nothing ever changed.

richie tozier wasn’t his, and he never would be.

the thought sent a ripple of pain through eddie’s chest and suddenly the world became too blurry to see. this always happened. richie called him, he’d beg him to come out with him, they’d get drunk, and up in bed together and whisper promises of things they both knew would never come.

eddie knew how these things worked, he knew richie. you see, drunk richie would make promises of love and future, of happiness and appreciation but sober richie, oh sober richie was quite the opposite. sober richie was eddie’s friend. sober richie slept with anything that moved and didn’t care about how it made eddie feel. sober richie didn’t even look at eddie as more than just his best friend.

the pain bubbled in his stomach at the thought. images of last night and various others flood his mind; his hands tugging at richie’s curls, eddie’s name falling from richie’s lips, a soft bubble of want and need swirling between them.

eddie then remembered how it was after the last time they slept together. how it felt to catch richie coming out of his neighbor’s apartment without a single care in the world. or the ripping of his heart when he danced with guy after girl after guy at the club they went to.

eddie couldn’t take it. since he was 14, since they were in the eighth grade he’d been in love with this idiot yet the two still couldn’t seem to get their act together. staring up at the pale white ceiling, the tears started to fall rapidly. all eddie wanted was richie. to hold and love like his own, instead of catch him at fleeting moments between hookups.

then eddie was angry. how could richie treat him like this? treat him like he wanted to give eddie the world when he had alcohol flowing through his veins, but completely ignoring him when in his right frame of mind. eddie didn’t deserve this. he didn’t deserve to cry himself to sleep each night, mind littered with constant ‘what-ifs’ and silly hopes for the future.

eddie got so angry he couldn’t stand to be around richie. he said out of his dark blue sheets, the tears still falling and picked up all of richie’s clothes off the floor. he gathered them in one hand and with all his strength, hurled them at the sleeping boy.

richie woke up with a start, flinching at the clothes he saw next to him. he looked up at eddie with hooded eyes, heart momentarily skipping a beat. eddie’s somewhat curly hair was messy and adorable, his small frames draped only in richie’s shirt from the night before. richie never told him, but he secretly loved it when eddie wore his clothes.

he almost smiled right then, but suddenly remembered the way he was awakened. richie looked closely at eddie’s face and his eyes widened, taking note at the tear stains down the beautiful boy’s face. “eddie?” richie’s voice was soft and raspy. “what’s wrong?”

“get out.”

richie froze, eyes glazing over. “what?”

“I said get out, richie. get out and never come back.” eddie could feel the words clawing up his throat and he hated the way they tasted.

“eddie- I don’t understand-”

“of course you fucking don’t,” eddie scoffed. “you never get it richie. i’m done with this, I’m done with us.”

“eddie, what are you talking about? what happened? last night was fun, it always is, so why are you upset?” richie had a dangerous feeling he knew where this conversation was going and he didn’t want it. he rounded the bed, now only a couple feet from eddie.

“that’s the problem, richie. it’s always just fun. it’s always just a night. I can’t do this anymore.”

“eddie, baby, listen-”

and then, eddie snapped.

no, you fucking listen, richard! ” eddie screamed, closing the distance between the two. he poked richie’s harshly, causing richie to back up. “you do this to me again and again, and I can’t any more. no more hookups. no more calling me when none of the others will answer the phone. no more spending the night. no more drunken promises that never carry to morning. I’m done, richie.”

richie’s blood ran cold at the words. at the amount of heartache placed beneath them. “eddie- stop. we have something good, don’t ruin it. don’t make us stop-”

“good? tell me richie what’s good about this?” he was chalked full of unbearably heavy thoughts and his heart was on fire. “i’m in love with you, idiot!”

he had never said it sober before, neither or them had, but now it hung in the air around them, painfully loud. richie looked at eddie desperately, begging him to take it back. to say “just kidding!” so that they could go back to what they had before. richie tozier didn’t do love, he couldn’t.

“and I know you don’t love me, rich. or you won’t, whichever one, but I can’t put myself through this anymore. it hurts, richie. seeing you with somebody else feels like my heart is torn out of my chest. I love you, richie tozier, but I won’t destroy myself anymore because if it.”

richie’s throat closed up and his chest constricted painfully. he wanted to say a million and one things, but all he could do was sit and stare heartbroken at the boy in front of him.

he could see the decision set in eddie’s eyes and he hated it. when eddie was sure of something there was no getting around it.

“eddie, please.” eddie nearly lost it at the crack in richie’s voice but didn’t, instead throwing him his keys.

“get out, richie. of my apartment and my life. lose my number.”

richie wanted to yell he wanted to scream that he loved eddie too, but he was scared, so fucking scared of what that means. he wanted to kiss the tears off his face and tell him he needs him, and that all those drunken promises were still valid now. he wanted to say so many things, but he couldn’t.

so instead he grabbed his shoes off the floor, and headed across the apartment to the front door, pausing once more to look at the probable love of his life. eddie looked down, shoulders shaking in seeming agony and richie tozier swears he could hear his heart break at the sight.

“goodbye, eds.”

he closes the door with a soft click, and before his body can comprehend what’s happening he’s crying, sliding down the door slowly.

eddie is on the other side as well, on his apartment floor, grasping the thin fabric he wears with conviction, scent of richie, cigarettes and vanilla, cloud his brain and weary heart as he sobs.

and eddie realizes that this is love. wanting but not obtaining. love is needing someone so severely but realizing that sometimes it can’t always work the way you want it to. love can be kind but love is cruel and selfish, stripping away at the very foundation of your heart. love is fearing your worth will only bring someone down, or fearing you’ll never be what they deserve. love is throwing out the one person who makes you so happy you could burst, but also makes you cry harder than you’ve ever known. love is richie tozier and eddie kaspbrak, on opposite sides of the same door, two halves of a whole heart, sobbing because all the things that could never be.

this is love.


part two here

8

Anonymous said: I’d like to request where the old Joseph finds out that somehow Caesar was still alive all these years.

sorry if you wanted smtg more serious this is the most serious i can get
Jared Leto x Reader ; Music Awards

Author’s Note; Sorry it seems like this took forever, I couldn’t find it in my inbox until now so yay! Thank you so much for the compliment omg! I have a section for reviews so please feel free to leave some feedback and some opinions. I need some !! Seriously I had a dream just like this request so this should be extremely interesting. I tried to make it a little bit shorter than the rest because I know I can get carried away so I hope this is ok! Thanks for the request. 

A gentle hand slid over the outside of your dress as you patted down the delicate places that deserved the most attention. It never really took you too long to get ready for anything, but this in particular was a big deal for you. In dating the infamous Jared Leto for more than 6 months you felt the need to always look your best when leaving the house to do simple errands such as going to the store, going on small dates with him, and just going out with your friends in general. However, this particular event required a bit more preparation, an award show designed to recognize actors, actresses, and amazing talents of the entertainment world, was the most important thing you’d ever really gone to. 

Previously, Jared went to these things alone or with some form of eye candy that he could strut around for photos and appearances, but no such event happened in your time together yet until now. This would be the first time you two actually attended a public appearance this big together, and you couldn’t stop the nerves from ripping through your entire body. Your hands were shaking, your palms were sweating, and you continued to fiddled with pieces of your dress that were already perfect. 

Delicate thoughts of judgement clouded the forefront of your mind as you truly wondered if you were good enough to really stand at his side on the red carpet tonight. Perhaps you should change your mind, there was still time. You could easily just watch him tonight on the tv, waltz the carpet alone like he usually did, but you knew deep down that if you backed out now he would be hurt. Although he usually did have a good time at these events, he often dreaded the boredom behind most of them especially when his friends were not around. 

A gentle knock pulled you from your thoughts and a small jump rippled through you as you turned towards the door. A glance down to your watch revealed that it was indeed time for you two to make your departure, but were you ready? 

“Come in….” you trailed off, turning towards the door frame and slipping your hands behind the dress to watch the ends of it flare around the back of your knee caps. It was spring, and the gentle breeze of tonight’s air would make it absolutely perfect, at least, that’s what the designer told you.  

his smile was contagious and spread across his face like the plague and you couldn’t stop the blush that took over your features at his reaction. He hadn’t actually seen the dress that you had picked out for the event, and the overall construction of it surprised even you. You had never really been a dress person, blue jeans or tights with a nice shirt was always your go to unless you were working and it was slacks and a decorative blouse, but dresses were completely foreign to you. The original gown you had picked out was the very definition of plain jane which was the direct opposite of what you were going for. You were never the type to value the attention of other people, in fact, you did everything in your power to avoid it; too many eyes on you usually made you uncomfortable. Even now, you felt yourself coming a part at the seams with just his crystal blue orbs scanning you over, but the devastatingly enamored smile he flashed in your direction destroyed every thought you had in that moment.  With the help of the store’s designer you had truly picked out a dress that was unforgettable. 

the delicate ombre of the dress was slightly overshadowed by silver glittered texture that formed small patterns around the flared bottom and slimmed bosom decorating your chest. It was absolutely perfect. Short enough to give awareness to your slightly long but beautiful legs, flared at the bottom like you like, and no long train for you to accidently fall over. It was the impeccable combination of elegant, flirty and fun. 

“Are you just going to stand there, gawking?” You questioned shifting your weight slightly in discomfort. His lips pressed together as he looked off to the side in an expression that mocked deep thought. A slight nod rippled through his frame and he smiled. 

“Yeah.” he answered simply before slipping one of his hands into his pocket and leaning against the wall comfortably. 

“Are you sure I shouldn’t just…..stay here?” you question slipping your hands up to your ears in an attempt to remove your earrings. Turning to face the mirror you could see his reflection in the background. It radiated unease and disappointment and that was the last thing you wanted to do to him. 

“I mean, if you don’t really wanna go….” he trailed off and the poorly hidden disappointment in his voice sent a sharp pain through the left side of your breast. He was hurt. 

“I just….I don’t want to ruin it for you……” you started before holding your earring in your hand and glancing down at the floor. He was aware of your low levels of confidence, and he respected you enough not to force you to do things you didn’t want to do. You were stubborn in that regard, but he shrugged.

“It’s just another award show, there will be more…….I just….would hate to let all this pretty go to waste.” the shuffling sound of his feet growing closer to you made you smile, and before you were aware of it, his fingers were on your skin. 

“You really think it looks good enough?” you question finally looking up at him and his eyebrow quirked. Blue orbs slid from your eyes down to your shoes before returning back to your face, and you had half a mind to check if you were still clothed because it felt as if he had just visually undressed you. 

“Good enough?” he was genuinely confused. You didn’t want to explain, you felt as if it were a petty insecurity that he wouldn’t understand, but you couldn’t hide from those eyes. 

“Somebody like me ….” his hand raised and landed on your lips before you could continue and he sighed. 

“Stop.” he said simply before slowly letting his hand run down the delicate confines of your lips to your hands. 

“Where you come from, and who you are, are two completely different things. You’re just as good if not better than half those people that will be out there tonight. You’re important to me, and I want you there. You are the most interesting thing about tonight.” he admitted, and the confidence behind his words fueled you. his face grew closer to yours and you prepared yourself for his kiss only to feel the absence of his lips. 

There was a gentle air against your face as his frame moved away from yours, and his fingers were around the small clutch in your hands.

“I mean, but if you don’t wanna go I mean…” he went on walking away and turning his back to you playfully. You chased after him slightly, wrapping your hands around the back of his shoulders and resting them on his chest.

“I’m going, I’m going!” you laughed before watching him turn to you.

“Good, because you’re beautiful and people deserve to see you.” 

“You just say that because you want my goods.” You joked wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

“What? Did you hear that line I just laid on you? Oh I’m gettin’ your goods. I could have em’ now if I wanted them.” he urged.

“Oh you think so?” You questioned. 

“Mhm.” He nodded planting a small kiss on your lips before pulling you closer. His eyes flickered towards his watch before slipping his hand in yours. You followed along excitedly while practicing deep breathing in an effort to calm you raging anxiety.  

The ride was nearly excruciating as you stared out of the window in awe of the illuminating buildings that took up most of the night life. The distant sound of Jared having side conversations with the driver and a few of his band mates in the backseat went unnoticed to you. You had originally joined in on the conversation previously, but the realization of you growing closer and closer to the red carpet sent a tingle of discomfort through your spine. Were you sure this was a good idea. The tabloids hinted at Jared having a significant other, but you had done a good job of concealing yourself from them, but tonight was the night that you exposed the rumors for what they were and you didn’t know if you were ready. Would you be what they expected? 

The distant feeling of Jared’s fingers colliding against yours sent your eyes in his direction and he smiled. He was always a master at sensing your moods even when you didn’t let on what you were actually feeling, and the sensation of his concern forced you to smile. 

“You look hot by the way.” Shannon’s voice slid through the forefront of your mind, but you couldn’t help the laugh that fell through your lips at his eyes on your skin. The playful look on his face made it hard for you to take him seriously.

“Says the guy with the impossibly perfectly tied bow tie.” you spoke. 

“Hey….I didn’t say you looked as good as me, but close.” He joked pulling at the bow tie attached to his dress shirt before everyone broke out in laughter. 

You two were on the red carpet before you knew it and the cascade of blinding flashes from the camera’s of the reporters nearly gave you a seizers. You stood there frozen as they threw questions in your direction. 

“Jared this way! Over here Jared! Flash a smile here Jared! Jared! Jared! Who’s your date!?” The questions fell from so many directions that you didn’t really know where to look and the tightening grip of Jared’s hand on yours wasn’t helping. In fact, it just made you more nervous. His voice was low in your ear as he directed you to smile at the camera’s on your left and to simply not stop smiling. He didn’t brief you on the expectations in the car, but it became simple after a while. Just don’t stop smiling. If they catch a picture of you without it, you’ll be misconstrued as the stuck up date with a bad attitude, or the weird mousey girl next to him that he probably didn’t even know. Your lips were on fire, and your cheeks felt as though they would fall from your face at any moment. 

“Maybe they’ll think i’m some sick person from the make a wish foundation and this is a one time thing.” you joked and his laugh radiated in your ear before he leaned down to whisper. 

“You don’t fuck like a sick person.” he teased. Your eyes flashed toward him with a look of pure shock and the smirk plastered on his lips nearly sent your lower half into a pooling mess of arousal. You imagined that the picture associated with the current reaction would be legendary. Your wildfire of a blush spread across your face, while his devilish smirk nearly overtook his features. You could see it now.

“JARED LETO WHISPERS SWEET NOTHINGS TO HIS RED CARPET DATE ;; WHAT DID HE SAY?” 

Your laugh turned into a small giggle as you tried to hide your reaction and suddenly his hand was gone from yours. An interviewer caught his attentions and began her questions with him, but instead of interrupting you attempting to continue smiling in the background. You assumed that with his absence you wouldn’t be the center of anyone’s attention anymore, but the camera’s continued to flash in your direction without warning. 

You could feel the growing anxiety in your abdomen reach its peak and the sudden panic attack you wanted to avoid began rippling through your spine. Your smile started to fade and you swallowed hard, only to find Shannon at your side. His frame stood in front of yours as his hand rested on your hip. His voice was low in your ear as he questioned you.

“You alright?” He was concerned and you had never heard his voice like that before. 

“I….I think so I just….I need a second?” You spoke and he smiled.

“Totally normal. I don’t think we could’ve warned ya about this enough.” He admitted. 

“Just breathe….” he trailed before his eyes connected with yours. It was easy and once you gained your breath, you smiled. 

“Just like that.” He instructed before moving aside and posed for some pictures with you. Jared’s eyes connected with yours as you were photographed and he stopped mid sentence. There was a look on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher; it mirrored awe and slight arousal. He had lost his train of thought and you were sure that the interviewer was probably confused. 

His hand slid against yours and before you knew it you were at his side with his arm around the back of your waist. 

“I can’t leave her alone too long.” He joked into the microphone as the interviewer laughed whole heartedly amused. You couldn’t help the smile that slid over your features as he continued to speak with her. 

“Have you looked into her eyes, I mean it’s insane. They’re like little gifts from the Gods.” He answered looking into your eyes and making her blush worse. 

“This man, knows how to speak to ladies.” You admitted before looking back towards the interviewer. Her blush nearly out weighed yours as you directed his attention back to her. 

He was finally attentive to her as she questioned him about tonight’s festivities as well as previous projects he’s worked on. As she finished up he leaned closer to you 

“You ok?” he questioned. 

“Perfect…..” you responded. 

careless. | seungcheol

member: choi seungcheol (s. coups) / reader
genre/warning(s): fluff, romance, drabble
word count: 970+
a/n: “why is your nose so cold?”

Originally posted by fighthoshi


Throwing caution to the wind seems to be a part of your life that refuses to vanish any time soon, much to Seungcheol’s chagrin. It’s admirable at times, yes, inspiring even, but that same taste of fearless charm quickly fades when Seungcheol is frantic and thrown into a state of disarray when he snatches your wrist in his hand, halting you from stepping into traffic, no matter how slow it is. 

Confidently, you had declared a heedless ‘we can probably make it across if we make a run for it’ moments prior to his intervention.

Maybe you could’ve made it across in one piece, though arguably – as it played out in Seungcheol’s scenario – you wouldn’t have been so drastically lucky. It was a chance he just couldn’t risk; a chance you would’ve dared to lunge for, and although it frustrates him to think of how you’d ever make it in the world without him, he resorts to doing the only thing he can. Simply being there for you when his time and schedule permits is the most he can offer. Yet, he still feels that it isn’t enough. Besides, how could he ever afford to turn a blind eye when sometimes you were just so endearingly…careless

Keep reading

2

Character/Pairing: Dean x Reader
Location: Motel swimming pool
Random Word: flirty
Requested by: anonymous

“I wondered where you got to,” you said, looking down at Dean as he surfaced at the edge of the pool.

He looked up at you and smirked. “We’re allowed to relax, you know?” He ran a hand over his face, wiping the water from his eyelashes and cheeks. “I keep trying to tell you and Sam that.” He leaned on the edge and you kept staring down at him. You were feeling inexplicably warm at the sight of the water clinging to his skin, mixing with the freckles on his face and shoulders. 

“Right. Well, Sam and I have to work hard to make up for you slacking off,” you said. 

“Hmm. Well, I give you permission to take a break… Right now. Right here. With me,” he said. He flashed you that boyish grin you found nearly irresistible. He pushed back off the pool wall and took a few strokes back toward the middle of the pool. “Come on. The water is perfect. I promise I won’t even dunk you,” he teased.

You tried not to be obvious about staring at his strong chest and back, the muscles rippling beneath those freckles. “I seem to have left my swimsuit in my other bag of hunting gear,” you replied.

“Swimsuit?” he repeated. “You think I own swim trunks?” He looked down at himself. “These are boxers,” he said, giving you another grin. “Besides… who said anything about you wearing a swimsuit?” 

You felt your cheeks grow warm. “Dean!” 

He laughed and swam back over toward the edge of the pool. “I’m just kidding. …sort of.” He looked up at you. “Come on,” he said again. “You’re gonna make me stay out here and enjoy these stars and this empty pool all by myself?”

You considered him for a moment, pursing your lips in thought. The ripples on the surface of the pool were throwing light into his green eyes and making them sparkle and you finally bent and began to roll up your pant legs.

“I will sit. Here. And put my feet in,” you said. You pointed at him. “No splashing,” you warned.

Dean put on a mock stunned expression. “You think I would splash you? I’m offended!” The gravel in his voice was thick and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip again. He swam closer to you and you caught a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

“Dean…” you said with a warning tone. 

“What?” he shrugged, still swimming closer.

“Don’t! I mean it!” 

“Would you relax? I’m not gonna splash you!” he said. He came and leaned against the edge of the pool by you, sighing contentedly. “It is nice in here though. You really should come in,” he said.

“Yeah, I believe you,” you said, kicking your feet in the water. You caught Dean’s eyes for a brief moment and both of you let the gaze stretch. 

The next thing you knew Dean had grabbed your hand and pulled. Hard.

You came up gasping and sputtering and started raining punches on every part of him you could reach, pushing your wet hair back out of your face with the other hand and shaking the water from your eyes. “DEAN! YOU. ASS!”

He was laughing and easily caught your fist as you threw the last blow. “I told you it’s nice in here,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you.

You wiped a hand over your face and shook your head at him. His hand suddenly relaxed around your fist and he slipped his fingers in between yours.

“Do you want me to get you a towel?” he asked. There was still the small ghost of a smile on his lips, but something in the mood had changed, and his fingers between yours were making it hard to think.

You shrugged. “Eh. I’m already here. Might as well stay for a while…”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

anonymous asked:

Have you ever thought about a Promptio fic with something along the lines where Prompto has a major manhandling kink and tries to hide this from Gladio who is always displaying his impressive strength during their daemon hunts. If anything, Gladio eventually notices, gets cocky, and shows off. Poor Prompto has to hide his now hardened dick.

Thanks for this lovely prompt, Anon. I actually have thought about this all day and want to get this little drabble off my chest while I’m tell relatively sober.

Also, to answer your question, when am I NOT actively thinking about how much Prompto likes to be picked up and tossed onto the bed by his meaty boyfriend?? xD

Originally posted by gifcomedy

Thirsty Prompto under the cut v v v 

Cyclone
Prompto x Gladio 

Keep reading

Creepypasta #1244: The Middle Button

Length: Short

“Sir, please tell us what happened.”

“I pushed it. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand. Pushed what?”

“The button. The middle button.”

“The middle button of what?”

“The opener. I didn’t meant to push it, my finger slipped.”

“I see. What happened after you pushed this button?”

“Nothing. At first.”

“Sir, please elaborate. What do you mean, ‘at first’”?

“I mean I didn’t actually see anything happen.

“Then how do you know something did?”

“I felt it.”

“You, felt, it?”

“Yes.”

“Felt what?”

“Fear. Dread.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never hit the middle button before. I don’t actually know what it does.”

“And that makes you feel afraid?”

“Very much so. Who knows what could have happened.”

“I see. So after you felt this fear and dread, what happened?”

“Irrational thoughts mostly. A ripple effect caused by pushing the middle button.”

“Can you tell me what those thoughts were?”

“Uh, yeah. I thought that the door would open on a timer and remain open until someone closed it. I thought that a passerby would then enter through the door and gain access. Then they would help themselves to whatever they desired. Then they’d be attacked by my protector and would slay him in self-defense.”

“I see, a bit vague, but I see. So once you started to have those irrational thoughts, what did you do next?”

“I turned around. I had to go back and check. I had to make sure that the middle button didn’t actually do anything.”

“What happened when you turned around?”

“I wasn’t in the right state of mind at that time. I was too overwhelmed by fear and anxiety that I just turned around. I wasn’t focused on anything else but the consequences of pushing that friggin’ button. I didn’t focus on the car driving toward me the other way. I didn’t think about how my sudden u-turn would have its own ripple effect. I didn’t mean to hit the car head on. I just needed to turn around, to go back.”

“I see. So your mind was too busy thinking about the effects of pushing the middle button and that clouded your judgement to safely find a place to turn around?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do after the collision?”

“I ran.”

“You fled the scene?”

“No, well, technically, but I had to get home. I had to make sure.”

“Sir you realize that fleeing the scene of an accident, which you caused, is a felony in this state?”

“I know. I know. I KNOW! YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!? YOU THINK I WANTED TO LEAVE HER THERE? I DIDN’T, BUT I HAD TO!”

“Sir, please lower your voice. What happened when you eventually made it home?”

“I found it closed.”

“Found what closed?”

“The door. The garage door. It never opened. The middle button did nothing.”

Credits to: sarstastic (story)

When You Love Somebody

@prompt-master ;) ;) This one’s for you, love! 

Here’s a ficlet!

One would think that multiple kids passing out on stage would elicit a scene of mass chaos, but to Michael’s surprise, the events following Jeremy and the others collapsing on stage were calm and orderly.

Those who had parents attending the show were whisked away by moms and dads while the rest of the audience filed out of the theater. At some point, the paramedics were called, but Michael couldn’t tell when.

His sole focus was, and still is, on Jeremy. He had crawled over toward his unconscious friend and cradled Jeremy’s motionless body to his chest, rocking back and forth as silent tears streamed down his cheeks, and he stayed like this, lost in rippling thoughts over what to do if Jeremy doesn’t make it, until a gentle voice washed over the two.

“Son? You mind if we take this young man here?”

For a moment, Michael tightens his hold around Jeremy. He looks up to the owner of the voice, blinking past the tears to see a calm, smiling face watching him with care. There’s a pair of people climbing the steps of the stage behind him with a gurney, and Michael finally relaxes his hold when he catches sight of them.

The two with the gurney arrive, and together, all three paramedics get Jeremy fastened onto the portable bed.

Before he knows it, Michael is climbing to his feet and stumbling after the paramedics, after Jeremy.

“I need to go with him,” Michael calls out, voice shaking as he struggles forward against buckling knees. “Please,” he presses, voice cracking desperately as his words catch in his throat.

One paramedic stops and turns toward Michael, and Michael staggers toward him, gripping the paramedic’s arms tightly to steady his swaying form.

“Please. I have to…. He’s my best friend…” Michael’s choking out words that struggle to find voice against the gasping sobs slipping up his throat. He’s suddenly so scared. He can’t think past the fact that Jeremy is being wheeled away without him. “Please,” he presses, sniffling loudly.

The paramedic’s brows furrow, but he nods all the same. “Of course,” he tells Michael. “You can come, but I need you to try and breathe for me, okay?”

Michael frowns at this, but then his mind catches up to the fact that he’s not breathing, and he sucks in a shaking breath and nods.

“Good,” the paramedic says with a soft smile. He drapes an arm across Michael’s shoulders, and the two start toward the ambulance.

*****

As if God is watching down and spiting them, there’s traffic on the way to the hospital, and while the paramedic riding along in the back of the ambulance assures that Jeremy should be fine because his vitals are all okay, Michael’s on edge.

The constant stop and go jerking of the ambulance paired with Jeremy looking so pale and so quiet leaves Michael tense to the core. He’s hunched over on the small bench, and he keeps one hand tightly within Jeremy’s, staring and willing his best friend’s fingers to curl into his hand, to give any sign of life other than the slow rise and fall of his chest.

For minutes, Michael sits like this, and he would stay like forever, but the paramedic suddenly clearing his throat has Michael looking toward the older man.

“Does Jeremy have any family you can call?”

Oh. Shit. Fuck. Michael has forgotten all about Mr. Heere. What’s he supposed to say? How is he going to even attempt to explain to Mr. Heere that Jeremy took a pill containing a super computer and had a giant battle with it? What is he-

“Son?”

Michael releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and meets the paramedic’s worried eyes.

“I’ve… I can call his dad. I just need a minute.” Michael tells the man, and when the man nods, Michael reluctantly releases Jeremy’s hand and slumps back against the wall behind him.

His thoughts are at war with one another. There’s shouting to tell the truth verses shouting that he can’t do that to Jeremy. His mind is a giant conflict desperately searching for a resolution while his heart hammers against his chest.

It takes a solid three minutes until he can breathe, and it’s only then that he fishes his phone out of his pocket with a trembling hand. His thumb hovers over Mr. Heere’s speed dial number, and he swallows down the lump in his throat and presses down on it before bringing the small phone to his ear.

After three rings, a voice echoes from the speaker.

“Michael? How’d it go? Did you save our Jeremy?”

Michael’s heart pangs painfully in his chest as his eyes fall onto Jeremy’s unconscious form. “Uh, about that…”

Perhaps it was the tremble in Michael’s voice or the lack of vibrant vibrato, but Mr. Heere can tell almost immediately that something’s wrong.

“What’s wrong, Michael? What happened?”

“Jeremy… He… He’s…. We…”

“Come on, Michael. You can tell me.”

Michael breathes out a shaky sigh. “We are on our way to the hospital…”

“What!? Is Jeremy-”

“He’s okay,” Michael interrupts. “Well, he’s not, but he will be.”

“What happened?!”

Make a choice, Michael tells himself. “Someone said he took some pill to calm his nerves before the show, and he ended up passing out.” It’s not, Michael thinks, his story to tell, but he will definitely be at Jeremy’s side if the latter ever decides to tell his father the truth.

“Jesus Christ.” A pause. “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Before Mr. Heere can hang up, Michael shouts “wait!”

“What?”

“Make sure you wear pants.”

anonymous asked:

Hi i have a prompt usuk cardverse au where arthur is a peasant/ part of the rebellion against the royals and ends up getting catched by guards and brought to the castle to be trialed only it ends up he has the queen mark

The rebellion had been betrayed. Someone had been passing information to the royal forces all this time.

The thought rippled in Arthur’s head as he flailed and kicked to flee the royal guards that had captured him and the other rebels. Chaos prowled the streets. People were running in all directions, screaming in confusion and fear.

Spite swelled in Arthur’s chest. Months and months of secret meetings and preparations had led to this. The people were expecting them to end the tyrannous reign of the royals, and now, they had failed.

Chains bound his wrists so tightly that it was impossible to wriggle out of them. Two guards, one on either side of him, dragged him inside the palace and straight to the throne room. Purple and white drapes adorned all corners of the room. Opulent chandeliers hung from the golden ceiling, and the polished marble floor reflected the figures that stepped on it. All of the decorations could have taken the breath out of him if he wasn’t facing the end of his life.

In front of them, the King, the Queen, and the Prince sat on the dais, expecting them. Revulsion coiled in Arthur’s stomach. How could they sit on their thrones, doing nothing, while their people starved and died of illness?

Loud echoes seized the throne room as Arthur and the other rebels were hurled across the marble floor. He raised his head and found Prince Alfred, the royal heir of Spades, eyeing him with interest. He radiated privilege and arrogance, just as sheltered as Arthur expected. Groomed to perfection, raised to protect the interests of those living inside the inner walls of their kingdom. He would be no better than his father when the time came. Arthur set his jaw, looking back at Prince Alfred defiantly under his eyelashes.

“Sire,” spoke the guard that held him, bowing low, “The royal guards had caught the traitors that had been plotting against His Majesty’s kingdom.”

The King looked very pleased, and started asking questions. “…Do you deny plotting against my kingdom?…”

Nobody denied the true nature of the rebellion. The crown had failed their people and the rebels took it upon themselves to save the helpless with their noble cause. They would die with their heads held high.

“I hereby declare all of you guilty of treason…”

Arthur was barely listening when the King instructed the guards to take them to the dungeons for the night. They would be hanged at the town square tomorrow, by dawn.

Pain struck Arthur’s injured body as a guard seized him from the cuff of his neck.

“Halt!” Prince Alfred’s voice resonated across the room.

Everyone froze, gripped with bewilderment, as he stood from his throne and approached Arthur.

Suddenly forgetting how to breathe, Arthur stared at the Prince. He would like to take a good look at his tyrant before they sent him to his death. His flaxen hair framed his handsome face perfectly under a bejewelled crown, his regal blue eyes filled with a shade of curiosity as they lingered on the side of Arthur’s neck.

An odd birthmark sat there, shaped like a spade or an upside down heart. Arthur had the urge to cover it with his collar, thinking the Prince would like to mock him for having the mark, as if being sentenced to death wasn’t enough.

But before he could move, Prince Alfred was gently running his fingers across the length of his neck. Goosebumps erupted on Arthur’s skin as the gloved fingers touched him. He might have heard a soft gasp escape the Prince’s lips.

Prince Alfred examined the mark longer, his face conflicted. Arthur could feel a hundred pairs of eyes scrutinising him. No sound could be heard as the entire kingdom held its breath.

Then, with his low but clear voice, Prince Alfred spoke, “All hail the Lost Queen.”

His purple cape swooshed as he knelt to the ground, his head bowed.

Shock lingered in the throne room for a moment like a cold breeze entered the tall windows, but everyone followed the Prince’s lead. The rest of the court, including the King and the Queen— the people Arthur detested the most— stood up from their throne and bowed to him. At a loss of what to do, he turned around to see everyone on their knees. His throat constricted, his eyes blurring with confusion. He wanted to ask countless questions but his mouth couldn’t move.

Prince Alfred stood up and sighed with relief. His face was bright as though a ray of light was shining on him.

“We’ve been looking for you for so long.”

edgymuffin  asked:

Help! One shot, Stenbrough :):)

~Stan sat on the cliff at the quarry, dangling his legs over the rock and tracing pictures in the dirt. His shoulders felt heavy with the weight of what had happened just a few months ago. He sniffled and allowed his mouth to hang open a little as he stared down at the water. His front teeth tingled uncomfortably from the cold, he dragged them over his chapped lips. When he heard a small bird chirp, his eyes watered and he had to blink a few times. ‘This is ridiculous’ he scolded himself. But he was a child, he couldn’t help but let tears flow. 

He hiccuped and attempted to collect himself, sliding his body back to lean on a rock. Only his ankle dangled over the edge now. He could hear Richie’s voice from when they were little echoing in his mind. ‘You’re such a stick in the mud, like a parent.’ Richie had meant that to be an insult but Stan had enjoyed that because it made him feel like he was above that childishness that Richie was still in. 

He was self sufficient and enjoyed being that mini adult in his friend group. He didn’t need anyone’s help because he was the one doing the helping. Whether that meant holding Richie back from making stupid comments, or thinking things through in a logical way most kids his age didn’t even know about. Stan pursed his lips and sat up straight. 

He wished he could feel like that again but that damn clown was haunting him in just about ever corner of his mind. He almost expected the models to creep out of their frame every time he passed by a painting. The worst part of it all was that he couldn’t seem to just shake the issue off.If he was honest, it felt like he was being eaten up inside. And he knew he needed help, ‘Just ask somebody, it’s not that hard Stanley.’ He scowled to himself. He just needed to know how everyone else was moving on without seeing it play again whenever they closed their eyes. 

But if he asked, they’d know he was killing himself over this and he did not want anyone knowing that. He was Stan The Man Uris, he didn’t need help. 


Bill had plopped down next to him shortly after he’d started thinking about other things. He gave him a small smile and started to casually throw pebbles into the water. Stan observed, Bill looked much better than he used to. He supposed it had something to do with closure. He sucked in his breath and started throwing pebbles too. They silently started a competition of ‘who can throw the farthest.’ 

When Bill was cheering himself for his amazing throw, Stan watched the water ripple out and turned his head. “How are you so happy?” He blurted and Bill furrowed his brows. 

“W-Well I just beat you-”

“No, no I mean. In general? After everything-?” Stan stopped himself, thinking better of reminding Bill of it all. 

Bill cocked his head to the side. “We b-b-beat IT, I guess I’m s-still riding that wave.” Bill chuckled and threw another pebble.  Stan watched the water ripple out again and thought of the rippling effect he was feeling from their victory in defeating the creature. 

He just didn’t want to feel like this anymore. “Bill?” 

Bill glanced up and scooted closer to reassure Stan that he was going to listen. 

“I think…I think I need help. I’m not moving on so easily.” Stan cringed as he spoke, Bill’s face cast him concern. “Just…could you help me get my feet back on the ground because right now, I don’t feel like I can do it.” Stan lowered his head. 

“Anyway I c-can Stanley. I get it, s-s-sometimes I have nightmares so bad I don’t know what to do.” Bill reached over and clasped their hands together. Stan scooted closer. 

“I’ll be there, w-w-whenever you need me. It’s ok to ask for help.” Bill nodded, he knew Stan too well by now. Stan sudden;y didn’t feel much like talking and just laid his head on Bill’s shoulder and they threw more pebbles down into the water. 

Bill kissed the top of his head and Stan felt a little better. 

Clashing of Blood and Wilds

Originally posted by whenimaunicorn

AO3 : http://archiveofourown.org/works/11465187/chapters/25705545

PT1: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162841562811/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT2: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/162902440496/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT3: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/163108659911/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT5: https://easilyaddictedin123.tumblr.com/post/163539095566/clashing-of-wilds-and-blood

PT4 (Gluttony and Greed)

Maude scrubbed hard at the floors of her mistress’ room keeping count of the time. It had been almost a week now of her helping sneak the princess back and forth between her ‘Nobody’ and the rest of the castle. It was a dangerous juggling act, trying to keep her goings a secret, making sure she was seen away from the room with her sister and nephew. Keeping the secret was easy and at the same time Maude couldn’t be more terrified. Y/N had become more transfixed, her goings longer, the conversations more lengthy and detailed with their ‘lessons’. She’d seen the girl tracing the lines on her hands as if in memory of something but she didn’t come back with red spots to hide on her neck bruises anywhere else.

Her busted lip from Prince Aethelwulf was healing nicely but Maude feared more than a busted lip was to come if they were found out. She wanted to stop the girl, wanted to lock her in her room until these Vikings were executed or released. Her beloved Y/N she’d so carefully tended too, so carefully hid her blood within Aelle’s royalty. Genoveve had trust her to put thine own issue upon the throne as much as it pained her to use the girl as a chess piece. She needed to be kept safe when Maude died, she needed to be tucked away under some king or lord even if she didn’t want to be. Maude needed her to be safe.

The floors were clean, her mistress’ bedding straightened, the room settled into it’s organized state no doubt to be ruined by the young woman’s natural state of chaos. She was too much like her mother.

‘I wasn’t made to be quite Maude, I was made to push limits. To be reckless, how else will the angels know me?’ Maude shook her head with a fondness.

Her mistress had gone to town under the guise of a kitchen maid with Lily and wouldn’t be back till later, it would give her time to deal with the Northman best she knew how. The tub wasn’t the best but would work as she ordered two men to carry it and three maids to take warm water with her into the prisoner’s room.
Ivar was none too pleased when the door opened to show men and women piling in carrying a tub. Y/N had promised to speak of Gluttony but as the days had dragged on she seemed to have interest in teaching him or a more realistic conclusion was she was lonely.

Y/N and him spoke so often of small thing. His home, how he learned to play chess, his brothers with their annoying way of showing affection. Ubbe with his elder brother antics between teaching Ivar, encouraging him -treating him like a brother- and pranking his younger siblings. Hvisterk and the playfulness even in sparring with Ivar. Sigurd…there were moments, rare and far between that they tolerated each other.

Y/N had an immense dislike for his elder brother stating that it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to meet him as she’d surely give him a piece of her mind on how he treated her…friend? He wasn’t sure what they were. They were…Gods forbid comfortable with each other. He thought the soft touch of hands would easily be blamed on the wine she’d drank. No. The next day she sat closer, she questioned the roughness of his hands again and made no issue to cradle them in her lap once more. She was almost remorseful at how he admitted that they ached from time to time.

Ivar found himself enjoying the way the pressure in them eased when the wayward princes had pressed on them, almost -oh for Odin’s sake- almost longing and it made him furious. It made him hate her. It made him want to shove her away. He wanted to yell, make her leave. But. There was the way her e/c eyes had flakes in them while she sat close, looking at him. No pity, no lurking sneer or deception in those eyes that were genuinely curious of his world and his life. The way her voice changed soft tones to let him know without words how she felt. Her smile hid a type of sunshine in it that seemed to caress his skin.

She didn’t question his legs. She didn’t care. And Ivar hated her for it. He craved her for it. He needed her for it. How dare she come into his world, this small little pawn in his chess game and change all the rules when he was so sure that they were fixed in place? How dare she steal parts of him? How dare her voice be so pleasing when he knew music from a grand feast or the horns of war should sound better? Or her laughter fill his chest with a dangerous and terrifying sensation. Damn her. Damn her and her God and anything else to do with her but Gods save her and anywhere she walked so that he could see and hear her again.

“Well it’s nice to know that my mistress isn’t the only one with selective hearing.” The old crone’s voice drew him from the thoughts but she scoffed when he sneered like he was a pup bearing his milk teeth.

Maude cocked her hip out and frowned as he spouted in his language a curse or something of the same sort she didn’t need to be fluent in it to know that he was displeased with her appearance.
“I’ll have you take a bath before she arrives, as much as I have a distaste for her company you are beginning to smell…ripe and I’ll not have her around it.” The two men left and the women filled the bucket, “In you go now, hop to it.”

He growled and her eyes narrowed at the ‘boy’ “Either you’ll get into the tub or God’s my witness I will toss you over me shoulder like a babe.”

Ivar laughed at that, actually laughed even though bitterly, there was no way that she could actually lift him. Or so he thought. The old wench marched over and grabbing his legs by the belts she lifted him up and proceeded to toss her over a bony shoulder much like a sack of potatoes. He would forever deny the undignified yelp that came from his mouth. The woman was shockingly adept at the motion when dumping him on a stool level with the lip of the tub.

“Now I trust you know how to bathe yourself.” She began to unbuckle the bindings on his leg, he was swift in slapping her hand away and sneering.

“What are you doing, you old goat.” The woman huffed.

“You’ll be needing help in and out of it now won’t you? I’m no fool, I’ve seen legs like yours before I have.” He scoffed at the suggestion, “My second husband had ‘em. Ached something awful needed a hot bath all the time ready. William his name was.”

“Are you going to talk my ear off?” The lines on Maude’s scowl were only enhanced by her natural age marks.

He let his fingers skim the water in appreciation, he was right and the water would ease the insistent ache that left him in a constant state of exhaustion. After a fight of wills and the wavering idea that maybe the woman was some type of warrior descendant with her ferocity he ceded and never had he been more distressed and uncomfo- that wasn’t true but it was a close high. The servants that bid to him in Kattegat he’d known them from childhood here was a different and wrong.

“I don’t mind throwing you in either.” After the old woman’s last promise he didn’t want to tempt her over.

It was awkward and bizarre but after helping him in with some of the warm water splashing over the side she left. He sank down to just above his nose and let it wash over him. Few things eased his pain but floating in the tub of hot water was making a top of his list. When it had grown cold he was halfway out pulling himself up when a loud yelp made him freeze.

“Mi’lady don’t!” The shout was too late and in a swift blur Y/N turned around her back to the tub.

“I’m s-so sorry. I didn’t..I uh…I’ll l-leave.” He refused to say he’d blushed whatsoever.

“Never seen a man’s chest before, woman.” You balked at the question and the chuckle that bloomed a heat you refused to think of.

“I’ll have you known, I have thank you very much.” You hissed out listening to the splash of water falling out of the tub and you bit your lip.

It was just a moment but your eyes had taken in the savage allure that was Viking and it was pressed another log onto the fire that had been stroked on his arrival. Water had dripped down his chest, the beads glinted just so to reflect the light, it rolled over over broad shoulders and across a firm abdomen the slightest ‘v’ shape at his hips. You thought Gluttony was on today’s lesson and now you had to figure out how to look at him without biting your lip and playing over the thought of tracing the rippling muscle with your tongue. Or even the thought of your legs on those broad shoulders with calloused hands holding down your hips while chapped lips kissed the inside of you th-

‘Oh God save me I’m going to Hell. Okay need to think of something else…Maude naked, Athelwulf standing in front of me, Father. God forgives all, just remember God forgives all.’

“You can turn around now.” If you hadn’t known better there was a type of teasing tone in his voice, and you should have known better because upon turning you bit the inside of your mouth.

His corded arms were in the sleeves of his shirt and thankfully his pants were tied together though it didn’t stop your eyes from wandering nor the smug and satisfied look on his face.

“What?” The word came out more breathy than you’d wanted it to and he was all to proud at the noise.

“I thought you’d seen a man’s chest before.” The smirk infuriated and burned while you cleared your throat.

‘Blue flames, fire. He’ll get killed. You will kill him or worse.’ Though you couldn’t deny that today might turn to Greed instead of Gluttony because you were all the more greedy at sight of him.

“I have it’s just been…a while.” Nobody raised an eyebrow obviously not believing that a princess could have done anything sinful in her life that included leering at a man’s naked chest.

“Are you Christians punished more if you commit the same sin but at greater degrees? Does it add years or are you damned either way after all you’re just looking.” How had you walked over to the bench more importantly when had he taken his arms out of his sleeves to lean back and look up at your continuously startled expression.

“I’m not sure.” You sat eye level with him blue eyes startling hypnotic with you not caring that the dress was getting dirty, you weren’t dressed as a princess just a normal girl and he admitted that it looked nice on you.

The dress was plain, you wore no jewels, your hair was pulled by a tan bandana to keep it out of your face, the shoes were just brown no embellishments on them. There was nothing but the woman underneath with blushing cheeks and darting eyes. It was odd to have you see him and not be repulsed. Ivar thought you’d flinch away instead you looked at him like he was something to be desired, like you wanted to reach out and touch, feel him. Would it be so bad to feel smooth hands on his skin? You weren’t Margarethe, there was something of you that stirred and churned him. Something addictive and he found himself wanting.

“And here I thought all Christians were supposed to know their sins.” You huffed out a sound that was supposed to be a laugh.

“Only the ones we committed.” He tilted his head looking at the hair that escaped some of the bandana, coarse fingers brushing against the soft skin of your cheek.

“And which have you committed blóm?” Your throat was dry as calloused fingers trailed down to your neck, his thumb tracing against the dip of your collar bone, when had he gotten so close?

“I.” His nose brushed gently against yours, eyes stilling into your soul hooking to it and dragging it into excastical sin.

The kiss was sloppy and clacking teeth and deliciously perfect. You tasted of sweets and apples and he tasted of wine that he’d grown to tolerate. His hand squeezed your jaw gently, insistent surprisingly undemanding as if he were scared you’d pull away. All thoughts vanished as the kiss became a hot slanting of tongues and gentle moans as you tugged on still wet hair. You tore away from him putting a hand on your mouth, what did you do? God what had you done? You had a look of panic, biting your lower lip and trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out, looking away from it, you were scared.

Scared of what would happen to him, scared of the consequence, terrified of the flames that burned into a bonfire and it burned and it was good. The kiss had seared across your tongue, archaic dance of passions. Nothing Joseph had ever done came close to this. His hands settled on your shoulders causing your attention to turn to face him, a dangerous decision admittedly.

“I’m not.” His voice was gravely and his hands warm, it wouldn’t be hard for him to drag you back against him and god you wanted him to.

“You’re a sin and God will throw me to hell for you.” You wanted to move, to get away or closer you weren’t sure.

“Why?”

“Because I want more.” He snatched you against him, this kiss was easier, smoother.

The kiss was hungry, devouring as if you were the only thing able to give him breath and that he was drowning. You opened your mouth for him to drink in the nearly obscene moan slipping from your lips, only pulling away when you both became dizzy from lack of air but not far. His breath was warm against your lips and he was drunk on the taste of you.

“More.” It was a harsh whimper from the back of your throat that beckoned him.

”Greedy.” The grip on your dress top became almost painful as you followed his tug, the dress skirt raising up and he couldn’t stop the calloused hand that settled you onto his lap with zeal.

Your fingers tugged on his hair drawing him to you with a single hand further kissing fiercely biting on your lip and dragging you with him. His skin warm under your finger, the other hand’s nails having dug into his skin. There would be marks before this was done no doubt. 

He wanted you. Ivar wanted. The taste of you was addicting and he couldn’t help but lose himself in it. This wasn’t anything like Margarethe further by the warm surge as you slowly rolled your hips down against him. Ivar didn’t feel panic or fear just fire and power and -

“I’d moan your name if you gave it to me.” Your whine was quivering as he guided your hips into another shift bearing down on the growing bulge there.

“Ivar.” His name tasted like dark honey on your lips while he surged forwards teeth dragging in an onslaught of the throat offered to him as your nails dragged down his chest.

He nearly threw you onto the ground at the deliriously carnal keen of his name falling from your lips and took you against the stone floor while his fingers pulled at the lacing on the front of your dress. He pulled down the sleeve of the dress his teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder he would have pulled more save for the loud ‘bang’ of the door slamming open. You leapt up or attempted to only succeeding on falling backwards and dragging Ivar down with you. His hand took most of the impact as he stopped your head from bouncing against the stone ground. It didn’t stop your hips from slotting against each other and you strained to swallow the moan from the delirious inducing slid of clothed skin.

Looking up you wondered if Aethelwulf’s face could grow anymore red while you startled at the chuckle and press of chapped lips just below your collarbone Ivar’s weight kept you from shoving him off. Looking down the Viking was now glaring up at your brother-in-law he snarled out something in Norse and to anyone else the shudder of arousal if given benefit of the doubt could be seen as fear. Aethelwulf didn’t give you the benefit of the doubt. Guards came in and lifted him off of you and thanking God for quick reflexes to be able to tighten the lacing of your dress enough that he wouldn’t catch you with bite marks on your shoulder.

“Gentlemen take the Princess” He hissed the word, “To her rooms to have her punishment discussed later.”

The guards went to grab you however the warning glare that was enough to scathe their flesh as you got up on your own and brushed off the dress. Maude was standing outside wringing her spindly hands with distress deep seated in her face that turned relieved for a single moment as you walked to her. She took in the disheveled look, the smallest of marks on your neck to the tangles that was your hair. The slight dirt on your skin.

“What did you do?” She hissed taking your hand.

“Touched fire.” You had explained it so calmly but it sent Maude into a state of terror.

You didn’t know what happened to Nobo- Ivar- you reminded yourself but you knew Aethelwulf wasn’t idiotic enough to harm the son of Ragnar because of Ecbert, you stayed in your room taking a book from the shelf trying to find something to distract you from the ache in the pit of your stomach. It’d been too long since someone had kissed you much more like he had, with such power or fervor.

You couldn’t hear Ivar taunting him in Norse over how beautiful you looked under him, the tantalizing picture of your hair fanned out and the delicious sounds pouring from your mouth that he’d caused. Aethelwulf didn’t strike him while the Prince of Kattegat spat out taunts and snarls. A part of Ivar wondered what the pompous Christian man would do to you, he’d seen your busted lip but it wouldn’t go any further than that would it?

Maude was ordered outside upon Aethelwulf’s arrival to your door, “I’m Princess Y/N’s keeper not your servant.”

She was a stubborn old woman in light of the two fully armed guards, it was one that had to drag her away with a painful grip as the Prince stepped inside, “You’re a glutton for punishment aren’t you?”

You stood straight, defying and proud, “You shouldn’t be one to speak, I’ve heard all about your life too.”

“You are a woman!” He roared and you were proud in the fact that you didn’t flinch, “You are to stand and be silent unless spoken too! You are to be versed in the arts of home and hearth! You should bow your head before God al-”

“I am not yours to punish Aethelwulf! You c-” The slap wasn’t expected as the gauntlet snapped your head to the side, you could taste the bit of blood and the cheek would bruise yet in stubbornness you scoffed.

Fury roiled through him but you refused to let him see the pain, let him know that it hurt, “You were willing to let him lay his heathen paws-”

“That heathen is more a m-” Another slap and you slumped against post of your bed grabbing to the wood tears threatening to fall.

“You’ve had entirely too much ‘freedom’ and abused it in my father’s absence by thinking you could go and do obviously you’ve been tainted by sin. You will not leave anywhere without an escort and that maid of yours will not count.” He snarled out, “Do you understand?”

“God forgives all.” You spat out tasting the metallic flavor of blood on your tongue, he growled and slammed the door behind Maude who rushed past looking at the deep bruise on the same cheek already coming to bare.

There would be a moment when he wasn’t looming, and when he was you would go back and revel in as much sin as you wished. Having no protector was risky but not seeing Ivar, not being consumed in the burning wave would be far worse than never have doing so at all. After all you were already sinning? What was a few more to ask forgiveness for regardless as to how far you willingly leapt into depravity?

“Y/N.” Your name came out as a sigh with Maude tilting your head, worry flashing through her eyes but you smiled, “My Little Lamb.”

“You think me wicked too?” She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I think you mad and reckless. What did you do?” She didn’t need to guess at the blush and bite to your sore lower lip, “Of course you kissed him back, what was I thinking that somehow he overpowered you?”

“He did.” You didn’t stop the grin despite the pain and the ache.

Aethelwulf was right, you were a glutton for pain at the cost of your greed for him. For Ivar.

Why chase after thoughts, which are superficial ripples of present awareness? Rather look directly into the naked, empty nature of thoughts; then there is no duality, no observer, and nothing observed. Simply rest in this transparent, nondual present awareness. Make yourself at home in the natural state of pure presence, just being, not doing anything in particular.
—  Jamgon Kongtrul Rinpoche
character types in warriors

-“soft pawed” beautiful female. loves kits. always in the nursery. has a floral name.
- edgy cool female who can fight and is probably sassy. hardcore.
- tough male cat. aggressive thoughts. “muscles rippled under his pelt”
- completely normal warrior. has a name like greypelt or browntail.
- ashfur