#but Metal's comfortable with the way it speaks and doesn't seek to change | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chublemon · 7 months

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Klown saw you helping a child. And in their mind that made you perfect.

You are a adult human, 25 if your id cards right, and Klown now has your address as well. They also know you live alone and have a boring life. Which means nobody will miss you.

They put on their best costume, the jester cowl and shoes with pompoms on the end, and follow you home. It's surprising how easy it is, humans don't look for the unusual, so stealing you away from everything is easy.

You fall asleep that night, and clown picks you up, amused at how light a human is. And takes you back to the carnival. "Such a pretty brood you will give me." They hum.

They leave your unconscious body on a rainbow metal table.

Everything feels strange, like something changed… But your thoughts aren't clear yet.

With effort, you manage to pry open your groggy eyes. The sight before you sends a wave of confusion through your already muddled mind. Instead of your familiar ceiling and walls, there's… Something else entirely. The colors seem off somehow too bright, too garish. Where are you?

You carefully crawl off the metal slab. You body feels weak and you're staggering as you escape the lab. You slip on some sort of silk, and you glance around in confusion as you see it almost everywhere on the slab and floor.

But you ignore it.

You roam the colorful hallways in bleary confusion. Your body aches and you end up doubled over as pain hits you. But you're stubborn, stubborn and scared.

You continue looking for a exit.

As you make your way deeper into the maze of corridors, you begin to notice something odd about the walls themselves. They appear to be alive, twisting and writhing like some bizarre living entity. In fact, the entire place seems to pulse with an eerie energy that sets your teeth on edge.

The sound of footsteps echoes behind you, causing you to spin around fearfully. A towering figure stands several yards away, dressed in a clown costume complete with a white mask and wildly colored clothes. Even from here, you can see its piercing yellow eyes watching you intently.

It doesn't speak; instead, it simply tilts its head slightly to one side, observing you with unnerving curiosity. For reasons unknown, your instincts tell you that this creature must be avoided at all costs. You back away slowly, heart hammering in your chest, desperate to find another route out of this surreal nightmare.

As you search for a way out, the feeling of dread intensifies. Every corner you turn brings you face to face with more disturbing images – walls covered in decaying carnival posters, empty cages where terrifying creatures might once have lived, and darkened rooms filled with strange machines that hum ominously.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stumble upon a room full of cocoons. Each one contains a unconscious human trapped within its silky confines, suspended above a pool of murky liquid.

The texture of the cocoon seems familiar, but you can't place it. And you're honestly more fear driven right now.

Shaken to your core, you push past the horror, determined to find freedom before becoming another victim. Just when hope begins to fade, you discover a door marked "EXIT." Summoning every last ounce of courage, you throw open the door and step through it, praying that you've escaped the clutches of this nightmarish realm.

It doesn't. The exit door leads you right into the clown from earlier.

Before you can react, strong arms wrap around you from behind, pinning your struggling form firmly against a powerful chest. You scream bloody murder, fighting against your captor with every fiber of your being, but it's no use. The creature is far stronger than you ever imagined.

As panic threatens to consume you completely, you realize that the clown isn't hurting you. Rather, it's holding you close, whispering words of comfort into your ear as if seeking to calm a frightened child.

Gradually, the terror subsides, replaced by exhaustion and confusion, and another round of intense internal pain. Your struggles become feeble, and soon you find yourself pressed against the warmth of the clown's body, surrounded by the faint smells of greasepaint and sawdust. You pass out quickly, leaving nothing but darkness and the steady rhythm of the creature's heartbeat.

When you awaken, it's clear that time has passed since your capture. Days, perhaps weeks or months – you cannot tell. Surrounded by twisted shadows cast by moonlight filtering through the curtains of a small tent, you struggle to orient yourself amidst the tangled web of dreams and memories that seem to meld together here.

You're lying on a soft mattress, dressed in nothing but a thin white shift that exposes your collarbones and emphasizes the curves of your body. Beside you lies a glass bottle filled with a murky green substance; its contents seem strangely familiar, yet you cannot quite recall why. Next to the bottle sits a silver spoon etched with intricate designs – symbols you recognize as arcane runes depicting power, submission, and obedience.

A low growl rumbles through the silence, sending chills down your spine.

You stiffen, eyes wide in fear as you glance around.

Through the canvas walls of the tent, you see a pair of glowing yellow eyes peering in at you from outside. The owner of those eyes is undoubtedly responsible for the growls that continue to resonate within the shelter. As the creature approaches, its shadow looms larger and larger, until the full figure of the clown appears, towering over you like a nightmarish specter.

It reaches towards you with a single gloved hand, grasping your chin roughly as it leans in close to examine your features. Its breath reeks of rotten cotton candy, and you shudder involuntarily as a tongue covered in tiny, sharp teeth darts out to taste the sweat beading on your brow.

"Ah yes… there you are, my pretty pet. Time for your daily feeding." The creature announces, its tone both seductive and menacing at once. Reaching down, it picks up the bottle containing the mysterious liquid and offers it to you.

With trembling hands, you reach out to accept the offering, unsure of whether to drink or refuse. Would refusing anger the creature? Or worse yet, starve you to death?

A malicious grin spreads across the clown's painted face as it notices your hesitation. It presses the tip of the spoon against your lower lip, allowing a drop of the viscous liquid to slide slowly into your mouth.

The taste is sickeningly sweet, yet also bitter like bile mixed with poison ivy. Your instincts scream at you to spit it out, but something compels you to swallow instead. Immediately, your entire body feels alive with sensation – a thrilling mixture of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins.

Your vision becomes clouded as the clown speaks again, its voice dripping with contempt and desire. "I know you want it, my dear. Drink deeply, and embrace the changes that await you."

As if hypnotized, you bring the bottle to your lips and begin to drink deeply, desperate for more of whatever it is that promises to transform you.

An indeterminate amount of time passes while you lie on the mattress, succumbing to the effects of the elixir coursing through your system. Intense cramps wrack your body, accompanied by waves of agonizing pain that make you wish for nothing more than sweet, merciful oblivion.

But oblivion never comes. Instead, as the days stretch on, your suffering gradually gives way to a numbing sense of detachment. You become increasingly aware of the fact that something fundamental is changing within you – shifting and reshaping your very essence until it is virtually unrecognizable.

Eventually, you develop an acute awareness of every fiber of fabric touching your skin, causing you to rip away the white garment covering your body. Naked and vulnerable, you curl up into a fetal position, unable to bear the sensory overload assaulting your senses.

The next time you wake up, you're covered in some sort of tickling soft silk blanket. It doesn't stimulate you badly so you wrap yourself tightly in it and curl up in a corner of the nest area.

Suddenly, hunger strikes you like a physical blow, driving all thoughts of discomfort from your mind. Rising to your feet, you approach the bowl of gruel left beside the water bottle and begin to devour it ravenously, barely stopping to breathe as you consume every last morsel.

Once finished, you collapse back onto the mattress, exhausted but sated. As sleep begins to claim you once more, you're dimly aware of the gentle rhythm of music filtering through the canvas walls – a soothing melody that promises to ease the turmoil raging within you.

Again, time loses all meaning as you sink deeper into the abyss of unconsciousness. However, unlike previous occasions, there are no terrible dreams to torment you during these lost hours; instead, you experience brief flashes of peace and tranquility amidst the darkness.

Your gaze sweeps the interior of the tent, taking in the sumptuous fabrics adorning the walls and ceiling, the exquisite perfumes filling the air, and the glittering jewels strewn across various surfaces. This place feels strangely familiar, yet alien at the same time… like a distant memory slowly returning to conscious thought.

Overwhelmed by curiosity, you rise from your makeshift bed and venture towards the center of the chamber, where a massive dais looms ominously above you. Closing your eyes, you reach out blindly towards the structure, feeling along its smooth surface until your fingers brush against something warm and yielding.

Opening your eyes, you see what appears to be a giant egg resting upon the platform, its exterior covered in glistening purple veins that seem to throb with each beat of your heart. Fascinated, you run your hands lightly over the oddly textured shell, tracing intricate patterns etched into its surface.

As you continue exploring the mysterious object, you notice tiny tendrils emerging from cracks in the eggshell, twisting and writhing towards you like seeking serpents. Mesmerized, you allow the appendages to wind themselves around your body, constricting ever tighter until you can scarcely breathe.

The tendrils drag you close to the egg, soon you're manipulated into spreading your legs and rubbing your aching cunt against the shell of the egg.

You don't know why, or what's really going on, the tendrils around your neck make it hard to breath. And your brains so foggy now.

But soon you feel something slimy rub at your opening, you glance down to see the egg going…. Gelatinous. The shell turning see through as it starts pushing against your opening.

The eggs made itself gelatinous, so it can wiggle inside you. The tendrils help hold you down and still while the egg uses gravity to work it's way into you.

It stretches you impossibly wide as it works it's way into you. And you can't do anything besides scramble for something to hold onto while the huge jelly egg forces its way into you.

The egg expands inside you, swelling like a balloon filling with water. It's so huge, stretching you far beyond your limits, making you doubt if you'll survive this ordeal. But as agonizing as the process may be, there's also an undeniable sense of pleasure mixed in with the pain.

Soon, the entire egg disappears inside you, leaving nothing but a strange sensation of fullness throughout your lower body. A feeling that grows stronger by the minute as the embryonic contents of the egg begin to divide and multiply within you.

You try to move away from the dais, desperate to find some relief from the crushing weight of the unborn spawn growing inside you, but the tendrils refuse to relent their hold. Instead, they carry you back to the mattress and deposit you gently upon its soft surface.

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missvifdor · 3 years

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Alright, I share a quick thought like this, but imagine Bucky having the DID (be careful, I want to make it clear that I'm not an expert and any mistakes on my part are unintentional and I'm sorry for being so stupid The DID is not a joke, it is a real trouble and I would never allow myself to laugh or joke about it).

So I was saying, Bucky having DID:

Thinking back to all the traumatic moments in his life, it would be easy enough to think that he could have had it. Imagine that at one point his brain and mind say "STOP" and no longer able to cope with all these events, decide that in order to survive, he must create a "shield" (I don't know if I am speaking correctly, sorry if that doesn't make sense).

Because if I'm not saying bullshit, that's what the host's DID is for, to protect it and that's where the Alters come in. The basis of the DID is that the host not supposed to know he has it.

But all the time, there will be signs: amnesia, dissociative disorder, depersonalization, derealization,. Imagine, one day, everything is going well, you get ready to go to sleep and then when you wake up, the date, the time have completely changed, you are now dressed and you have no memory of having lived this. that happened after you last remembered.

Now imagine Bucky going through the same thing, he'd be pretty scared I think.

Bucky would have these symptoms, but not just that. For example, he might feel like he has feelings, thoughts, moods, or anything else that is not ... his but belongs to someone else. Or he would hear voices talking to him (Wait, this has nothing to do with schizophrenia, the voices heard cannot be suppressed with medication and to the host this is really heard as a person's voice real voice or an interlocutor. These are real voices).

You know when we think and hear a voice but it is that of our subconscious, and well that is still different.

(I won't procrastinate any longer, but if you are interested, I advise you to inform yourself to find out more. For example, there is a youtube channel that talks about it because the designer has DID, she and other affected people talk about it here: https://youtu.be/ek7JK6pattE ).

Back to our Super Soldier:

Bucky, like anyone with DID will have both good and bad triggers.

The good ones would be: Music from the 40s, his favorite food, something that reminds him of his sister or mother, etc.

The bad ones: Something or someone who could bring back bad memories, maybe the language Russian, the pain linked to his metal arm, the situations where he cannot feel comfortable or very anxious, a dangerous mission that has gone off the rails a bit.

Let's talk about his Alters: The Winter Soldier will have taken a big place in his life and I think he probably never left him because he is part of him.

So I would lean towards the fact that Winter (let's call him that) has become one of his Alters. It would have become this:

Alter Trauma Holder and Persecutor: some of his tasks are to hold traumatic memories ... especially so that other Alters are not not disturbed by these memories and that the system works more or less. And often, well, trauma holders do not voluntarily choose this role, they are there because the brain did it like that and it can seem very unfair!

It is common that in addition to h: And, even when they do, sometimes they just aren't able to pass it on to the rest of the system and, unfortunately, to the outside either. This is one of the reasons why it is very difficult for a system to find and manage trauma or to talk to a therapist, for example. This is one of the reasons why it is very difficult for a system to find and manage trauma or to talk to a therapist, for example.

Trauma holders are also It called “Secret Keepers / Secret Holders”.

Her Part Persecutor: To put it mildly, the "Persecutor" is an alter who is hostile to the system or the outside world . Well, obviously, it’s nowhere near that simple.

In general, persecutors are alters who have internalized hatred or rejection, either towards themselves, towards other members of the system, or towards the outside world. It is a traumatic response that follows physical abuse, toxic relationships and assaults experienced by the system. Like the protectors, the persecutors seek to prevent further attacks, attack in defense or suffer for the rest of the system. But they ... don't always do it the right way.

There are different kinds of persecutors, some tend to reject any outside person, others may have internal words and feelings of worthlessness, still others may sabotage a possible therapy for fear of the medical profession, then of others can re-experience their traumas, injure themselves, etc… They are very often hyperviligant and easily activated.

They are sometimes very withdrawn and influenced by feelings causing for example a strong anxiety or suicidal thoughts. But they can also be authoritarian and seek to impose behavior on the rest of the system, considering that the others are incapable of protecting themselves and are responsible for the abuses suffered. Finally, some persecutors are a representation of aggressors and persecute the system like these. The persecutors are above all persecuted by trauma and in particular they need to be secure. It is very common that, once appeased, they become essential protectors of the system.

Here's another Alter, James: It would be quite similar to the Bucky of the 40s but different at the same time.

He would be an Alter Internal Self Helper: The "Internal Self Helper" is an alter that helps the system internally. It is not uncommon for ISHs to serve as some sort of mediator to the rest of the system, as if they were "the voice of reason."

They often have a good knowledge of Alters and how the system works (but this does not mean that they easily share this information). They are also often discreet, facing little or not at all or only side by side with another alter.

Internal self helpers are often associated with the creation and management of the innerworld, especially when it was conceived unconsciously.

ISH is a frequent supporting role among gatekeepers, protectors and sometimes among trauma holders.

And Bucky would be the host: Host "refers to the alter who fronts most of the time ... when all is well. And this nuance is important!

Indeed, the “Host” is a bit like the basic Alter, the one who is there when there is no need for any other Alter, no triggers, and no Alter is needed wanted to face. In principle, he manages the day-to-day life, so you would think that it is indeed the alter that uses the body most often, yes. But no.

A system is frequently affected by all the little things in life, whether or not it requires the presence of another Alter at the front. And, especially when it is not conscious, it can be common for another alter (social or protective, for example) to be more present than the host. It all depends on the environment of the system and the awareness of its multiplicity as well as the choices and possibilities of each of its members.

For this reason, there are systems without a host (or with a sleeping host) as well as systems with multiple hosts (which are then called co-hosts), which handle different aspects of the day-to-day. good. Of course, the hosts can also have another role, such as caretaker or alter social.e for example. It may also happen that a new host appears and the system changes hosts.

The host is a role that can be difficult to take in at times, as it is often the first alter to become consciously aware (yes, consciously aware) of his multiplicity. And it's already not easy to realize that we "are not alone in your head", but it is also difficult to realize that you have shared your whole life with "these others people in his head ”. It is very common for the host to doubt his legitimacy, to be afraid of lying, etc. They are often influenced by the feelings, thoughts and feelings of other Alters.

On the other hand, the host can usually be an alter who allows for better communication, as he or she serves as a bit of a mediator, conciliatory and benevolent towards the system and the outside world, while being held to it 'deviation from the consequences (emotional for example) of traumas. A stable host is an important basis for functional multiplicity.

Be careful, it must be said: the host is not the original! Many systems don't have an original, and while you might think the host is some kind of original, it isn't. Of course, if there is an original in the system, it can be a host. But, whether host and / or original, all Alters should be considered equally. (Really, for this to work, it's important to understand this)

Otherwise, a person with DID may have other Alters, the number can vary and they are all different!

Now, how would it be if Bucky had a Y / N ? Would other people in the system agree with that? Would Y / N manage and understand this situation? That is the whole question.

But let's imagine that in the best-case scenario, Winter and James are ok with this relationship and even have feelings for Y / N, it will still be a job all the time.

The best would be someone who can differentiate the three and act with the three as if they were three different individuals (Who they are and this is very important because each Alter deserves to be recognized).

Being in a relationship with Bucky is a bit like being with a big teddy bear who could easily shoot you in the head with near-deadly precision. And a gentleman under all circumstances, of course.

Being with Winter is complicated enough, but not impossible. You just have to know how to do it and above all succeed in interpreting his looks, his silences. The man is not the biggest talker but know that he would be ready to kill for you and protect you.

As for James his Fronts are very rare but when he will be there, believe me when I tell you that he will not leave you alone with his affections! He is surely the one who is the most sociable of the three and who will take the greatest pleasure in teasing you or improvising a dance with you in the middle of your living room.

Well I have finished! Do not hesitate to tell me what you think of it in the comments, or if you want a part two to find out more in general or to know more about the romantic relationship side + ... SNFW.

#bucky barnes preferences #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #alters #did you know #system #bucky imagine #bucky headcanon #bucky hcs #Tw

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fangirlings-things · 4 years

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Tell him...

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Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Aethelwulf x female reader

Summary: Ragnar's sister catches the Prince's attention when the northern men arrive at Wessex and go to the castle to make a deal with the king

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: curse words, mentions of sex and violence

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @philomaela

• Requested by anon: hey could you do a one shot about your Aethelwulf imagine? Thank youu

Hope you like it anon, it was fun to write this, so it turned out to be longer than I expected!!

“So if we fight for princess Kwenthrith, you will give us a piece of land?” Ragnar's tone was questioning, precise as usual. Leaned back on the chair he had occupied in a almost relaxed position, he appeared to have no worries at all in life. But it was far from the truth. One of the most things Ragnar Lothbrok had in those times, were worries.

“Yes, yes” King Ecbert agreed excitedly, his curious eyes averting themselves between all the northern that were currently sitting at his table, feasting like old friends. His tone was tender and his smile was sympathetic. Too good to be true. “If you agree to help giving Mercia's throne back to it's rightful owner, that being princess Kwenthrith, I will give you a good part of land where you will be able to farm and live in peace”

“He has his own ambitions over Mercia, doesn't he, brother?” you spoke in the northern native language, making all the english present frown in confusion and curiosity. It amused you, no doubt, as you raised your eyebrows in Ragnar's direction. You might not understand what the King was saying directly but just from Athelstan's translation and the look in that man's eyes, you knew he was hiding something. Had to be.

“Of course he does” Ragnar fixed his bright blue eyes on you, his younger sister, that impertinent smile that curved the corner of his lips a lot appearing on his face and enlightening his features. He wasn't surprised at all about your good observation. “But that is not our bussiness or responsibility”

“What are they saying?” King Ecbert directed his question to Athelstan, who was sitting by your right side in his monk clothes, the ones you had gotten unused to see him wearing in the last few years. See your friend back at his own faith, hurt you a little. You hoped he could after, all find, comfort in your people’s Gods. But the fact that he didn't, didn't changed at all your care for him. Honestly, you had been devastated when you thought he had died. It was soo good to see him again.

“They are discussing the proposition, my Lord” Athelstan quickly lied, the serious expression he held in his face leaving no questions to be made about it, convincing everyone.

You had a little amused smile on your face after hearing Athelstan's words and when you took her eyes out of her brother's face and passed them through the english folk, you met the prince's. He was staring at you deeply, it seemed that for a while now, since he didn't turn away when you returned his intense gaze. That only made your amused smile grow wider, to see the various shades of interest his brown eyes were assuming while fixed on you.

“Athelstan?” you called the priest and that made him turn his attention to you, as well as everybody else. Just like you wanted to. “Ask prince Aethelwulf why he is staring at me like that”

By hearing his name, even though he didn't understand what had been said, the prince semeed to be finnaly gotten out of guard and clearing his throat, turned his eyes to the food he hadn't touched since it had been served almost an hour before.

“Prince Aethelwulf, King Ragnar's sister, (Y/N), wants to know why you are staring at her like that” Athelstan made the question in a neutral tone, although in the silent great hall it sounded like teasing.

“Tell her I am thinking whether she is or not a threat” the prince ended up saying after giving it some thought, his hands joined over the table and the metal ring on his finger seeming suddenly colder. Or was it his body that was getting hotter?

Athelstan translated what he had just said to you and Aethelwulf just watched as you listened to the words the monk said and continued to show that smile of yours.

“Tell him, that he shouldn't be thinking about it. He should instantly consider me a threat” you played with the metal knife that had been placed by your plate for the feast, rolling it between your fingers with an undeniable ability. It made the prince ask himself how many men you had already killed. Plenty, probably. “I can be dangerous. If I want to”

“(Y/N)...” Ragnar said at the exact same time as Lagertha let out a laugh, shaking her head from one side to another, clearly entertained by your statement. And although Ragnar had interfered over your provocative words, he made no sign to stop Athelstan from translating them. And so the monk did.

I can be dangerous if I want to. Aethelwulf chuckled at that, shaking his head just like Lagertha but for a different reason. It was unbelievable, the boldness in yourvoice and the smile that seemed to have been carved up on your pretty face. You intrigued and fascinated him, for some misterious reason. Maybe, it was due to the fact that you were entirely different from any other woman he had ever met.

“Tell her, Athelstan, that I will keep that in mind” now that he could feel all the eyes on him, the hall seemed smaller than it was. As much as he woud never admit it out loud, being under the northern's stare made him nervous. Although maybe, a little less than it really should. Being such a successful commander in battle, Aethewulf had over time, lost real fear over his opponents, whomever they were. The tension, though, never went away.

Athelstan translated the short phrase and for the moment, that little interaction was ended.

“Very well, I accept your offer. I will fight for princess Kwenthrith and give the throne back to her and you, will give us land to farm” Ragnar's voice filled the air, breaking the silence and sounding like a drum even though his tone was stern, not even loud. Perhaps it was the weight of those words, that made them sound so remarkable.

“Excellent!” it was impossible, not to see how King Ecbert seemed to be in a state of bliss because of the answer he had just been given. You couldn't help but think that he apparently needed your people’s warriors, their fighting skills. A lot. “You will leave to Mercia in the morning then, so we can settle this as quick as possible”

“Agreed. As long,” as your brother continued to speak when he wasn't expected to, you laughed discretely. The sudden irritation on Aethelwulf's face was hilarious. “as you take some of my men to the land you will give us, so they can see it and begin to establish themselves”

“That is unacceptable! Only after you actually win the battle...” the prince spilled out the words in quickly, seeming to be just one step away from getting up and taking his sword on hand. You would like to see him try.

“Son” Ecbert gave the prince a warning, reprimanding look before taking a deep breath and clapping his palms together, turning the corners of his lips upwards while fixing his gaze on the King of the northern people. “I agree with your terms. I will take the men you leave behind to the settlement myself, in a gesture of good faith and friendship”

Athelstan translated what the royal men were saying so that Lagertha and you could understand it, word by word.

“He is a prince or a dog, that has to be held back when barking without permission?” your tone was fierce, as well as the gaze you set upon him. The hatred he showed for your brother got to your nerves.

“Athelstan, what did she say?” Aethelwulf immediately asked, when taking notice of Ragnar and Lagertha's careful expressions and the poison on your voice. It couldn't have been nothing good. When Athelstan didn't respond the prince looked at the munk with questioning eyes, just to see a spark of fear in him. That confirmed his previous thought. It couldn't have been nothing good. “Athelstan, what did she say?”

The priest did not answer him straight away. First, he turned to you for approval. Even though he was on King Ecbert's realm and had lived for years under King Ragnar's ruling, he still turned to you first, seeking permission.

“The lady asks if you are a prince or a dog, my Lord” Athelstan had his eyes fixed on his own plate as he spoke, clearly not expecting a good reaction from the prince. “She noticed how you were... reprimanded by your father”

Aethelwulf bit hardly at his lower lip at that, his eyes fixed so hardly upon you that they would have made holes in your head if intensity and anger could kill. The rage consumed his body and only after a moment he got roughly out of his chair and made his way towards you.

You only stood there, watching him with piercing eyes and that disturbingly beautiful smile still carved on your plump lips. You seemed delightful, to have pushed him to such an edge. You didn't even flinch when he grabbed the back of your chair and turned it around so that it was now in his direction, like the weight of you upon the furniture was nothing. He was, indeed, a very strong man.

From the corner of his eye he could see how his father had straightened his posture on the King's chair at the head of the table, his breathing erratic because he very well knew what his son was capable of when angered. Athelstan seemed shocked, frozen in place. Lagertha started to make a move in your defense, but Ragnar stopped her with only a look and a smile. He better than anyone else, knew that his sister could take care of herself.

“Listen to me very carefully” Aethelwulf placed each of his hands on the arms of your chair and leaned down so that your faces were on the same level and really, really close to one another. You were even more beautiful from this close distance. “I am not a dog. And if you ever call me that again...”

And then, you moved. You turned the knife you had been playing with between your fingers once more and in a fraction of a second, placed the blade against the soft skin under his chin. Like you, he didn't even flinch when threatened, although the other's breath hissed.

“What would you do then, huh?” you pressed the blade harder, tilting his head up just a bit. For a brief second, you moved her gaze to his lips and then back at his eyes. Your eyes were filled with such ferocity and wildness. You were a natural viking. He could feel your hot breath on his face, so intoxicating that if it wasn't for the blade on his skin he could have forgotten for a moment about the rage he was feeling for you. “Would you kill me, prince Aethelwulf?”

You looked at Athelstan, and he understood it as a sign to translate what you had just said. He did, and Aethelwulf sucked in a long breath because of how mad you were driving him.

“I think he understood your point now, sister” Ragnar spoke breaking the silence again, not even a little disturbed about the scene rolling in front of his face.

“Right” you said in agreement and then took the blade out of the prince's skin, not before giving his parted lips another glance though. As he returned to his father's side, both the english men exchanging a long meaningful look and while they did so, you turned to Ragnar. “I was just having a little fun”

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God curse these northern men. Aethelwulf had that same thought playing inside his head over and over again unstoppably, ever since the feast in which the fate of Mercia had been decided was ended. As he prepared the army, it's weapons and organized strategies with his Captains, that thought was always there, hunting him like a persistent ghost.

He couldn't put aside the boldness in Ragnar Lothbrok's voice as he spoke about a deal, like he was certain the King would have no choice but to accept it. Like he was the ruler of the whole world. There was also Lagertha's confidence and how she held her chin high always, even if she spoke little. She seemed prepared for anything, since that in the moment Ecbert spoke about someone staying to lead the northern to their new lands, she agreed. And then, there was you.

You had kept on looking at Aethelwulf during the feast from time to time, and so he did his best to ignore you. Tried, anyway. His eyes always ended up going back to you eventually. You had seemed eager to go to battle for Mercia, but Ragnar told you that you should stay with Lagertha and go to the settlement. And Aethelwulf was surprised to see as you agreed, that your beautiful smile wasn't the same anymore. There was a shadow behind it. Disappointment. You intrigued him, he couldn't deny that. Did he hate the northern? Yes. Did he want to get rid of them? Yes, of course. Would he get rid of you so easily if given the opportunity? Probably not.

His own response to that mental question angered him, like most things did lately, and he slammed his fist on the wooden table he had on his chambers, sighting heavily before placing his elbows on it and covering his face with his hands.

Then, a sudden knock on the door startled him. Uncovering his face and frowning at the sudden visitor, whomever it was, Aethewulf directed his gaze to the open door of his room and was even more than surprised to see Athelstan standing there. What was he doing there in the middle of the night?

“Can I come in, my Lord?” the priest asked after a moment, noticing that the prince was too surprised and confused to say anything.

“Yes, do come in” Aethelwulf cleared his throat and mentioned with one of his hands for the munk to move forward. He did never like or trust Athelstan completely because of his previous connections with the northern men but still, he was a man of God. And a man of God, always deserved to be at least listened.

Athelstan smiled minimally in gratitude and then entered the chamber. As he did so, a second someone was revealed from behind him. Just when this person also entered the room, the prince recognized that to be you, Ragnar Lothbrok's sister, your features illuminated beautifully by the candle lights.

“What is going on here, Athelstan?” Aethelwulf quickly asked, joining his hands over the table and averting his eyes from you to the munk. All kinds of thoughts ran through his mind. Perhaps you wanted to kill him. But what good to the alliance would that bring?

“(Y/N) wanted to see you, my Lord” Athelstan answered his question with honesty and a calm expression on his face. He didn't seem tense like he had been at the feast. It was almost like he already knew the outcome of that meeting. What did he know? “She needed a translator, so I came along”

“What bussiness does she have to discuss with me?” the prince slowly got up from his chair and made his way around the table, stopping in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest in a questioning position. He was someone who took pride in being good at planning and reading others. In that moment, although, he had no clue at all about what was happening and that bothered him deeply.

“It has nothing to do with business, my Lord” Athelstan said those words in a rush, a blush getting a hold of his pale cheeks before he mumbled out his next phrase, without looking the prince in the eye. “She wanted me to ask you if you would like to... fuck her”

Aethelwulf was too astonished to say something. At first, he thought he hard heard it wrong. No, that could not be. But then, he moved his brown eyes from the munk to the you and saw that confident, impertinent expression on your face that made him realize that Athelstan was telling the truth. He had only said in english what you told him to say in norse.

“Ask him if he is always this shy with women” you said in norse, not even trying to hide the fact that your eyes ran up and down the prince's body. Oh, you did like what you saw there.

Aethelwulf took a deep breath after hearing Athelstan's translation of what you had just said. How could you affect him so much? You were right, he not usually froze like that. When it came to sex, he had always been very quick in acting. But hearing such an open invitation from you, hit him a way that the english man could not describe.

“You took me by surprise” he said, passing one of his hands through his beard, thinking very seriously about what he should do. Did he want you? Yes, since the very moment he set eyes on you. Would it affect the alliance? Perhaps. Was a fuck worth that risk? That, was the question he did not have yet an answer to. “Why do you think that I want to lay with you?” Aethelwulf decided to follow this path, narrowing his eyes and trying to figure out your true intentions.

You chuckled as Athelstan translated those words, seeming entertained by what was going on. The unexpected question amused you, that was a sure thing.

“Oh, I am sorry, prince. If I was wrong to assume such thing, I will find someone else to fulfill my desires. Perhaps one of your men will like to take me” you turned around and as Athelstan translated your words almost simultaneously with your talking, when you started to walk away Aethelwulf had already understood all you had just said.

“Wait” he said quickly, and that made you turn around even though you did not know what it meant. It might have been the urgent tone of his voice, that made you stop on your tracks. With their eyes meeting again, he bit his lower lip for a second because of what he was about to do. He had found out the answer to the previous unanswered question. Yes, a fuck with you was worth the risk of dooming that alliance. “I do desire to lay with you. But I have a wife. Adultery is a sin”

Athelstan's voice rolled out of his tongue in norse again and as soon as he fell silent again, you took steps forward until your body was almost touching the prince's. From that close distance, you raised one of your hands and runned your fingers through the fabric of his shirt.

“You, Christians, always denying yourselves pleasure for the sake of boundaries” your hand went up and you softly touched his lips with your fingertips. Your eyes were darker with desire. “Your wife is not here, prince Aethelwulf. I am. As in the morning our paths will be split, I am sure your God could look away for just one night”

Aethelwulf breathed heavily against the fingers touching his mouth, the words Athelstan just said in english making him feel a shiver run down his spine. Could that be true? Could God really look away for one night? Well, he would probably find out soon.

“Athelstan, leave us” the prince said, getting your hand away from his mouth as he occupied himself with feeling the softness of your skin with his own fingertips.

“Yes, my Lord” the munk seemed more than happy to obey and turned around to do as he was told.

“First, please Athelstan, ask him if he needs his father's permission to fuck me” you said every word slowly, with small pauses. Through the whole process, you could feel the fierceness of the prince's eyes locked on your own lips.

“Leave us” Aethelwulf repeated in a growl after the words were translated. As soon as the priest got out and closed the door behind him, one of his hands grabbed your hair and he smashed your lips together, too hungry to wait.

You whimpered against his mouth, your own hands pulling at his short hair, even more firmly when his other hand circled your waist, clearly desperate to get rid of your clothes. You stumbled together to the bed, lips never stopped touching until he was on top of you above the matress and the sheets.

There, you did not need words to communicate. Your eyes, said everything that needed to be said. When later your bare skins touched and he entered your body, words were also not needed.

Moans, did not need translation.

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