#Paddy Brown

[downthetubes]

Sector 13 Comics announces new anthology, launching at Enniskillen Comic Fest

Independent comic publishers Sector 13 Comics have announced that their new anthology title, appropriately titled S13, will be launched at Enniskillen Comic Fest in June – and is available for pre-order now

Independent comic publishers Sector 13 Comics have announced that their new anthology title, appropriately titled S13, will be launched at Enniskillen Comic Fest in June – and is available for pre-order now. S13 will the umbrella title for a series of themed anthologies, each exploring different themes or genres. The first is Anno Domini, 1900, a 68-page, A4 magazine which imagines what might…

[fullcravings]

Guinness Brookies

[masochistartt]

aidan turner as declan o'hara

rivals, episode 3

[princepaddy]

mollyelizabethbrown lotta laughs behind the swears and tears tbh

episode 8 is out now, hope you like it!

Posted 31 January 2025

[jazzkrebber]

whenever people think about kanej and zoyalai double dates, they think Inej and Nikolai bonding over pirating while Zoya is about to pummel Kaz for being, well, Kaz, but I've always loved the idea of them being in the corner judging everyone nearby. that guy has a red button up on? so last season. that person just tripped? they're laughing their asses off. that lady just got arrested for theft? rookie mistake.

[roberttingle]

they hated paddy mayne cause he was a real lover#sad

[ministerforpeas]

The only real person left on the opposition benches is...

[niemernuet]

off to a great start (not)

[tartt9]

paddy o'gara my beloved

[amberraymond]

Mrs. Brown’s boys having their Irish tour next year

[princepaddy]

sho_dexter Our bloody valentine 🩸 Stream the season finale of #DexterOriginalSin now on #ParamountPlus with SHOWTIME plan 🔪

Posted 14 February 2025

[nil-the-glitch]

actually yknow what, no. this is not being limited to discord, yall get it too.

some general cooking tips (in which there is a brief senshi posession):

moisture is the enemy of crispy skin. pat dry with paper towel, and if you have the time and spoons, give a thorough but even coat of baking powder and let sit uncovered in your fridge overnight. this will dry out the skin nicely. for pork belly, create a tight foil boat so that only the skin is showing, and cover in salt to draw out moisture, repeating a couple times if necessary.

furikake seasoning, for the fellow rice lovers, is just nori (seaweed), sesame seeds, sugar, and msg/salt. you might have most if not all of these things already in your kitchen.

chai spice mix is just cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, & allspice.

pumpkin spice is just cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger.

to cure your own bacon, you only need water, white and brown sugar, and a non-iodized salt - himalayan pink salt is not iodized, if you cannot find butchers curing pink salt. from there, you can add any seasoning/flavoring you want.

the truly adventurous may cook their rice in green tea for a fresh clean taste.

you can tell if a fish is truly fresh by their eyes - clear and bright is fresh, while cloudy is older or potentially has been frozen.

it's cheaper to buy a large block pack of ramen from your local asian market and repackage the bricks into sandwich bags, than to buy a box of individually packaged ones such as maruchan or top ramen.

when buying meat, look at it's fat content - more fat marbling usually means more tender + flavorful.

you can save onion skins and other vegetable scraps to make your own broth with. you can also save bones for this. mix and match ratios to create your ideal flavor.

bay leaf will always make a soup or broth taste better, but Watch Out (they are not fun to bite into on accident).

msg is, in fact, not The Devil, that was just a racist hate campaign against the chinese and other oriental races. it's literally just a type of salt. it is no more dangerous to eat than any other type of salt.

washing your rice is important because it not only improves flavor and texture by removing excess starch, but it also helps reduce any residual pesticides or dirt, or even insect fragments (please remember that rice paddies are essentially giant ponds that all kind of things live in and swim around. you should also be washing all your produce in general.)

please salt your cooking water for pastas, it just tastes better and you will be happier for it.

boiled potatoes are also improved by salt water.

if you hate vegetables, please consider trying them fried in butter or perhaps bacon grease. it is healthier to eat them fatty than not at all.

healthy food does not in fact have to taste miserable. thats a lie. they are lying to you. free yourself from your blandness shackles. enter a world of flavor.

[linguistics-and-lesbianism]

my first exposure to gay people was charlie brown

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Investigating the Indian Bullfrog

Indian bullfrogs, also known as Hoplobatrachus tigerinus is a large species of frog native to India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh. They are found in many types of freshwater habitat including wetlands, lakes, and urban ponds and rice paddies.

H. tigerinus is one of the larger frog species, weighing anywhere from 0.27 to 0.77 kg (0.6 to 1.7 lb) and measuring about 167 mm (6.60 in) in length; females tend to be larger than males. Outside the breeding season, males and females are virtually identical, with brown or olive green skin and a yellow stripe running down their back. During the breeding season males turn bright yellow, and their vocal sacs turn blue or purple. This bright coloration indicates to females that they're healthy and strong, and the brighter the color the more mates a male will attract.

Breeding for Indian bullfrogs occurs throughout the monsoon season, from July to November. Once they change color, males find a suitable watering hole and begin calling to attract females. After a female chooses a male, other males often attempt to climb on top of the mating pair and insert themselves into the pairing. Once she has finished with her selected mate, the female moves to a quiet area and attaches a clutch of up to 5,000 eggs to underwater vegetation. Several days later the eggs hatch, and tadpoles take several weeks to metamorphose into their adult form. Males reach full maturity in only 10 months, while females take up to two years. Individuals can live up to seven years in the wild.

Outside the mating season, H. tigerinus is nocturnal. They spend most of their time foraging in the leaf litter and brush surrounding their freshwater habitats. Their main diet consists of invertebrates like beetles, worms, and centipedes, and adults will also opportunistically feed on small mammals and birds. Tadpoles are primary predators of mosquito larvae. The main predators of adult Indian bullfrogs are snakes, especially the Asiatic water snake.

Conservation status: The IUCN has rated the Indian bullfrog as Least Concern. They are highly adaptable to urban environments. The species has been introduced in many countries outside its native range, including the Maldives and Madagascar, where it is considered an invasive species.

Photos

Kishan Meena

H. H. Harikrishnan et al.

Danile Nasika

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Ghost From The Barrow

Source for pic

Word Count: 6049

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW - Oral - you giving and creampie, alternate universe - Scotland, 13th century - cursing, angst, angst without happy ending, gore, blood, death, MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are the daughter of a clan chief in the Highlands, though you are more trouble than you are worth. Some thugs capture you and attempt to demand a ransom, but things don't exactly go their way when their leader, Kid, discovers what you are truly made of.

Notes: This was heavily inspired by the song “The Ghost From The Barrow” by Paddy and the Rats. It was going to go in a very different direction, much similar to the lyrics of the song, but the story took its own turn and I liked it like this! I hope you do too. Also, the research I did was very shallow, so if you're from Scotland and I got something wrong, I'm so sorry! Also, I had to go with Kilt wearing Kid. 🥴🤤 Have fun! 

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 (if you don't want to be tagged for other stories other than the meet-cute, please tell me!)

Sidenote: I used a real sigil for the reader’s clan: Clan MacKenzie. 

Terms: 

Barrow - An ancient burial mound;

Tartan - A woolen cloth with a specific design associated to a specific clan;

Laird - A lord, someone who owns a large estate;

The early morning mist left a familiar dampness upon your hair. Rolling hills of verdant expanse stretched lazily before you. Ancient stone markings of softly defined borders marked one pasture from another, the neighbours, practically family, not caring if the cattle meandered from one side to the other. Heavy tendrils of fog still permeated the mountains and mounds above and you had to cut your morning walk short. You knew those barrows like the back of your hand, but the legends of ancient restless souls still lurked freshly in your mind. 

Turning back around, you gathered the skirts of your woollen dress, which hung loosely over your chemise, so you wouldn’t wet the hem of the dress this early in the day. You wore the clan’s tartan over your shoulders to protect you from the earlier chill. The blues and greens of the plaid fabric contrasted heavily with the simple brown you chose to wear. Your mother would be sick to her stomach upon your sight, once more. You were the unruly daughter, the one that could not be tamed and you knew your parents cursed the day you were born. 

As wild as the Highlands, as stubborn as a mare. Your father used to jest that no man would ever want you for a wife because you were not docile enough to be domesticated. Respect came with a heavy price in your household and you held your tongue back from lashing at him. But the sting his words left upon you was enough to completely destroy the bundle of hay you used to practise your archery shots. 

Your father was a laird of the most prominent households of the Highlands, and the current head of the clan. You were the daughter of the chief. You were supposed to act with the status that your lineage carried. Except you very rarely did. And you had the nagging feeling your father wished to have killed you at birth, as they do with unwanted kittens. 

This was a day like any other. You fled your castle without the consent of your family, escaping through one of the many passages you knew by heart, so you could absorb the peace that the morning brought you. The eerie quietness of the barrows, the rustles of the leaves from the forest and, here and there, the lonesome call of the ravens. 

Your father had warned you a million times not to leave without guards.

Your mother had forbidden you a million and one times from walking out the door at all. 

Your older brother had always counselled you to take your bow anywhere you went.

You heeded none of them.

Yet, it was still with some surprise and with a heavy pounding of your heart, that you realised you were being surrounded. Four mighty horses as black as the night approached fast, their nostrils flaring and smoking. You didn��t even try to outrun them for it would have been an impossible task. The men mounting them surrounded you quickly, using the horses to keep pacing a tight circle around you. There were grins on their faces, each taller than the last, each scarier.

Scars and untreated wounds, long unkempt hair, one even had a rudimentary mask over his face. They were terrifying. You searched for a tartan but the plaids they wore belonged to no clan. You had never seen the yellow and black in any of your father’s gatherings and the sigil they wore was clearly one of outcasts and thieves: a burning skull with the same yellow and black plaid tied to the head.

“What do we have here?” The one in the mask asked, his voice thick with delight, a hint of a mischievous smile you were not privy to. 

“A little lass, eh?” The tallest one replied. He was the only one without a smile on his face, his voice thundering around you.

“She seems sweet.” The one with hollow eyes and scars on his mouth spoke softly.

Your hands shook and the shiver that coursed through you had nothing to do with the biting wind of the Highlands. The red-headed man pursed his lips as he looked you over. If they found out you were the chief’s daughter, you would surely be used as ransom bait.

Or worse. 

Inhaling deeply, you fought to find your voice. “I am a mere villager, good sirs. I was going to collect some herbs for healing, nothing more. Some lavender and calendula. Chamomile to soothe aches. Please let me return to my home. I have young children to care for.” You tried your best to lace your voice with humility and sweetness, fighting against all of your instincts to spit at their feet and demand their heads for this outrage. 

The one who spoke with a soft voice smiled at you. “Poor thing, she looks scared, Captain.” He was looking at the redhead. He was the leader then. So he was the one you had to reason with.

“Yes, Captain, I am so very frightened. Please, I just want to return home.” Trying your best to look terrified - which wasn’t that hard since you were frightened - you warmed your features and fell to your knees, adding dramatics to your reaction. 

“Maybe we should let her go.” The one with the mask replied, tilting his head to one side. “She does look like a commoner.”

The captain dismounted his horse and you gulped as he approached you. He was tall and bulky, with an impressive figure. His lips were tinted red and he wore a piece of cloth on his head to keep the hair out of his eyes with the same yellow and black plaid of their sigil. His kilt was of dark brown plaid, resembling dried blood, and his legs were as thick as logs. 

“Sir…” You whimpered and tried to appear small. His face kept drawing near and you held your breath as his cloak slipped and you realised he was missing an arm. “Please…” Another whimper.

His lips pursed further as he raised an eyebrow and he sniffed you.

A gasp left your lips at the outrage and your cheeks flushed crimson. How dared he? His hand darted forward and he pulled the tartan off your chest, revealing the brooch you had on your dress, the one with your father’s sigil: a mountain in flames with the words ‘I shine, not burn’ engraved.

His lips pulled back to reveal a frightening set of sharp canines and he finally spoke. It was akin to a roar and it managed to bristle all the hairs on your body. “Take her, ya fools. She smells clean. She’s highborn, for sure.”

You made sure the whole of the Highlands heard you screaming and you wouldn’t go down without a proper fight. You bit and sank your nails into flesh, you kicked and punched all while sputtering curses upon curses over the group. Vile words, not fit for a lady of your status, filled with hate, brimming with rage.

And they all laughed at you.

Your efforts were for naught. You were easily captured.

-*-

You were held like a sack of potatoes, hanging limply over the masked man’s shoulder. They had subdued you easily and tied your hands behind your back. You were still kicking, so with more rumbling laughs, they tied your feet for good measure. 

They rode with you on their horses for the entire day, placing a blindfold over your eyes to disorient you to where their hideout was. You were passed around from mount to mount - never to the leader’s horse, though - as if you were a plaything and a new toy for them to play with. 

You should be trembling with fear, yet all the trembling came from pure rage. You wanted to punch something, claw, bite, anything! This feeling of helplessness was overwhelming and intensified by the second.

The masked man set you down ungracefully by a fire and removed the blindfold, making you blink to adjust your vision. 

“Here we are, lass. Make yourself at home.” He chuckled low and you gritted your teeth. They hadn’t roughed you up, but you were still sore from the daylong horse ride. Your throat was dry and your lips were cracked. 

“Can…” You cleared your throat to find your voice again, but it was raw from screaming. “Can I get some water?”

He tsked and turned his back on you, leaving you slumped and looking defeated. Your wrists and ankles were sore from the tightness of the rope and you were pretty sure there was blood as well. 

They left you alone in that position for a while, until the man with the scars on his mouth approached you slowly. Using a knife, he cut the ropes from your ankles and then the ones on your wrists.

Whimpering you brought your hands close to your chest and rubbed your wrists softly. You were right, they were bloodied and bruised. 

“Here.” He extended a wooden bowl filled with water, which you immediately downed with a heavy sigh.

“Thank you.” You mumbled noticing your voice was less coarse now. 

He smiled softly and took out some mashed herbs from a leather pouch, applying the mixture to your wrists. You could smell lavender, calendula and yarrow in the mixture. Someone knew what they were doing, for they were healing herbs. 

“You did this?” You asked softly. Clearly this man was the one you could easily approach since all the others were too closed off. He nodded proudly and you patted his hand. “Thank you. What’s your name?” You gave him your name as well so he felt more confident in sharing his.

“I’m Heat.”

“That is a lovely name. Thanks for helping me, Heat.” Another smile. Maybe you could work him well enough to flee.

“Get away from her.” The leader’s orders made Heat stiffen up and he got up with a slight jump, leaving your side without looking back.

“I know what yer doing, lil’ lass.” His thick accent became more enunciated because he was angry, you noticed. So you decided to make him angrier and see where that would get you. Crossing your arms over your chest, you offered him your best annoyed look.

“I’m afraid I do not know what you mean. Thug.” You finished with a smirk.

Grunting, his lips curled upwards, drawing that dangerous smile that made your heart pound.

“Ya want to domesticate my men, lil’ lass, ya can’t! They obey my command.” His figure towered over yours and he was intimidating you. Wincing in pain and discomfort, you got up, still nowhere near his face, fists clenched into tiny little balls of fury as your eyes sparkled with rage.

“What do you want from me? A ransom? Well, send the letter! I’m sure my father will be more than happy to pay you scoundrels to get me back! Or do you not know how to write?” You stomped your foot right in the middle of his parted legs and stood almost flush to his frame, a snide crossing your lips, taunting him. “I’m not afraid of you!”

Yet, you were. Pretty scared, actually. Even more so because you doubted your father would care enough about you to pay a ransom. 

You could feel rage seething from his body in short waves. His orange eyes flaming like burning fire, the same fire you felt coursing through your veins in defiance. He gave no warning as his hand wrapped around your throat, tight enough to prevent almost all of the air from coursing freely, enough to leave a bruise, but not enough to truly hurt and cut your air supply.

He lifted you up to his eye level easily, as your nails scratched and clawed at his forearm, leaving red angry trails on his skin, yet he showed no signs of being hurt by your flailing.

“Ya should be. Ya should be pissin’ yer pants.” His jaw kept clenching and unclenching as his eyes raked over your body. He took out his long, wet tongue and licked a stripe from your neck to your ear, making your insides burn and your legs clench together with want. “Tasty.” He grumbled as your eyes bore into his.

“Taste this, then.” You grunted between gasps and, clenching your own jaw, you bent your knee and hit him right in his balls, making him grunt and bend forward, letting go of your neck at the same time as he curled, his hand holding his dick tight.

You coughed and wheezed for air, falling on your knees and taking deep gasps to try and steady your breathing. Your hands pressed and soothed the burn in your throat. 

“You lil’ whore!” He grumbled as he strode towards you again.

“I’ve been called worse!” You grinned with bravado you didn’t have, waiting for the blow to come, for his hand to strike, or his feet. Whatever he wanted to use, and you knew it would hurt. Your eyes shut in anticipation as your heart created its own insane rhythm in your chest.

Yet the blow didn’t come.

All you heard was the leader’s rumbling laugh echoing in the forest as he paced away from you.

-*-

Days passed and you remained a prisoner. They left you unbound because there was no way you could ever escape their watch. Heat brought you food and water and sometimes talked with you, when the leader wasn't around to scold him. 

You learned that the letter had been sent to your father, yet he still hadn't responded. So they sent another one. 

There was a feeling of dread coiling around your stomach. What if your father didn’t want to pay your ransom? You had more brothers and sisters. What good would a bratty child who obeyed no orders do in his household? Perhaps it was better for him to say that you lost your life to the whims of thieves.

It might even grant him more support. 

You spent a restless night worrying about this and you cried your heart out. Heat noticed your forlorn expression and defeated demeanour in the morning and returned to you with clean clothes. A plain dress and a worn out man’s shirt. You looked at him warily until he grabbed your hand and led you to the forest.

For a moment you thought he might be setting you free. A rush of happiness spread its tendrils across your heart and you grinned. Until you realised he was only taking you to a lake.

He seemed so happy, though, that you still smiled softly at him. “You can bathe.” He whispered your name softly. “I’ll keep watch.”

His offer was tempting. There was grime under your fingernails, caked blood on your wrists, knees and ankles and your hair… you didn’t even want to get started on your hair.

So you thanked him politely and he turned to give you some privacy, leaving a bundle of soapwort in your hands. A plant that, if wet, creates a lather that can cleanse grime and leave a nice herbal scent behind. You were sure he would turn around as soon as you took off your clothes, but he was still the sweetest of the thugs and you had warmed up to him. You doubted he would try something with you. 

Leaving your stained clothes in a pile so you could wash them later, you dipped your toes in the water. It was ice cold, despite the warm weather outside. Still, you really needed to bathe. So, closing your eyes, you dove gracefully, emerging only once the burn settled against your lungs from lack of air. 

Letting out an unbridled laugh, you splashed a bit of water before using the soapwort plant to cleanse yourself properly. You used it on your hair as well and, after a little bit, you started to make your way back so you could wash your clothes. You didn’t want to take too long in the lake because you didn’t want to cause any trouble for Heat. 

However, the sight that greeted you when you turned around made you freeze as your eyes widened and your breath caught in your throat. The leader, the captain. He was staring at you, his back leaning against the trunk of a tree and his lips pursed. Heat was nowhere to be found. He must have discovered both of you here and sent Heat away. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat but made no motion to cover yourself. Your breasts were out of the water, nipples erect from the cold and goosebumps all over your skin. He was close enough to see the way you were shivering and the way your chest rose with each gasping breath. 

He pulled away from the tree and with nimble fingers began to untie his kilt. First the knot over his shoulder, then he started untucking the sides until it finally fell down in a heap. The shivers that shook your body now had definitely nothing to do with the chilliness of the lake. He took a long stride forward and with one swift movement of his arm, the shirt came off. 

Biting your lower lip you took in his muscular form. He was bulky and heavy, built like a strong bull. His chest was made of ripped muscles and heavy scars. Lowering your eyes, you couldn't stop your thighs from clenching together, seeking some friction. His cock was big, girthy and already half hard. It would be monstrous at full length. 

He took off the cloth holding his hair back and finally entered the water with a hiss. His eyes never left you nor did yours leave him. 

You were no stranger to desire and intercourse. You were the chief's daughter, but you were no maiden. And what you felt for your captor now was true, unbridled desire. And you could see that he felt the same toward you. 

Would either of you act upon it? 

Shaking your head and gulping, you strode forward, aiming to leave the lake, perhaps? Yet he blocked your path easily. The water hit him around the knees and a quick look down told you he was now standing at full attention. 

Screw it. 

You were wound as tight as a rope and release would probably do you some good. Besides, he seemed like a good lay. 

You approached him, slowly climbing out to the shallow part of the lake, the water lowering until he could see your mound. His lips curled up and he licked them at a leisurely pace. 

“Kneel, lil’ lass.” He grunted and, for once, you obeyed him willingly. 

Falling forward on your knees, you wasted no time. Using your hands to pump his cock a few times, you gathered the precum at the top and then used your tongue to lather it around his girth. He hummed low when you brought your other hand to cup his balls and squeeze. 

“Fuck. That's good.” 

His praise made you mewl into him as you hollowed your cheeks and fought against the gag reflex to take all of him inside your mouth. It was a stretch, but you could do it. 

Hissing, he tangled his fingers in your wet hair, holding your head in place as he took over and fucked your mouth with relentless thrusts. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes when his tip bullied the back of your throat. Heat began pooling in your abdomen, its tendrils spreading slowly and steadily, burning at your core, demanding attention. 

You used one hand to grab his thick, hairy thighs for purchase, and another to friction against your throbbing clit, moaning into him, the vibrato of your mewls making him fasten his pace with sloppier thrusts. “Fuck, fuck. Open wide lass.” And that was all the warning you got before his thick, salty cum dripped down your throat as you swallowed and he pulled out, a small string of saliva connecting him to you still. 

He stared at your face, swollen lips, teary eyes and jaw standing open as your hand continued to press and circle against your clit, small moans leaving your parted lips. 

“Fuck. C’mere.” Resting his large hand on your chin, he motioned for you to stand up, and you obeyed. He pried your fingers away from yourself and pressed your hand so you could spread them open. A string of your own slick connected your index and middle fingers and you blushed. The Captain chuckled and swirled his tongue around them, collecting any remaining drops of your juices as you gasped and stifled a moan. “Hmm, none of that lil’ lass. Yer going to scream my name. Don't ye dare hold back.”

“I don't know your name.” You said, your eyes sparkling with mischievousness. 

Curling his lips back, he grasped your wet hair again, pulling you for an open mouthed kiss, combining your juices with the lingering taste of his cum until your head was spinning and begging for air. “It's Kid.” He panted as he pulled apart from you. 

“Fuck me, Kid.” Your hand found his cock already hard again and you had no doubt that this man had the stamina of a horse. 

“Will do, lass.” His fingers dug into your mound and you moaned as they descended to your swollen clit. “Let's see how ready ye are for me.” His fingers were long and thick and as he inserted one inside you to collect some slick, you arched your back and rolled your hips against his touch. “Hmm, needy, are ye?”

He rolled his wet finger against the bundle of nerves and then inserted two digits, stretching them and then letting them go further, deeper. Your nails dug into his chest as your head fell back in abandonment. “Kid!” You panted, his fingers filling you up deliciously. A gasp left you breathless as he inserted a third finger, using his thumb to press against your clit as he stretched you further. “Gods! Kid!”

“I know, lass, I know.” He grunted near your ear and the deep rumbling that came from his voice made you snap as you came in his hand. Arching your back and clawing his chest you moaned loud, repeating his name in a crescendo as you reached your high. “That was a good one, lass.” He sucked at your neck and bit hard to bring you back but you mewled again as you leaned into him, too dazed out to do anything else. 

But he was not done. Using his arm, he lifted you up and with a swift motion, impaled his cock inside your slick hole, making you scream as you clenched your legs around his waist. 

“Hold on, lass, this will be a rough ride.” His digits dug into your flesh as his arm circled your hips holding you in place as he pounded relentlessly, his pace brutal, and you didn't know how he could stay standing up because you could barely open your eyes, let alone stand. 

The pleasure built in waves that kept crashing and chasing away your sanity. You had never been fucked like this before. Captain Kid was fucking you senseless. Your pants increased in fervour as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to coming again. His dick filled you perfectly and hit spots inside you that made you see white. 

“Kid, fuck, gods!”

“Scream louder!” He growled and thrust faster, making your toes curl as you crushed him in a hug, thighs clenching tight against him and nails drawing blood from his back. You did scream. Loud as a banshee and you were positive his entire camp heard you scream his name like a whore.

His release was not far behind, and you knew that because there were beads of sweat on his temples, his thrusts were sloppier and he was grunting heavily. But you were so close again. “Harder.” You begged against his ear, your fingers circling your burning and overstimulated clit, trying to chase that last high. 

“Lil’ whore.” He growled and gave you what you wanted. Three fast thrusts that made you shake and come with a flash of white as he followed suit. You felt his release inside you, filling you up and dripping down your legs into the lake in soundly, heavy plops. 

You were still clinging to him like he was your lifeline, both panting and sweating, chests heaving and legs trembling. 

“I'm putting ya down, now.” He said between pants and you whined when he pulled out of you, leaving you empty. You were not steady on your legs so he still held your waist. 

“Fuck.” You muttered, still catching your breath, a wave of dizziness overcoming your senses. 

“I thought maidens didn't curse.” He chuckled. 

“Yeah? Well, maidens don't suck cocks either. So why do you think I'm one?” His genuine laughter made your heart tingle and constrict against your chest and you were not quite sure what this foreign feeling was. What you did know was that you wanted to hear it again. 

-*-

Days passed, yet you didn't really think you were a prisoner anymore. You slept with Kid every night and he took you whenever he felt like it, making good on the claim that you were his good little whore. You couldn't care less. You felt free. 

One night, after screaming his name until your throat was raw - you've come to realise he loves it when you scream his name - you asked him bluntly. 

“My father refused to pay the ransom, did he not?” The scoff that left your throat was meant to be dismissive and aloof, yet there was also the bitter taste of tart tears in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. 

“Aye.” He grunted as he pulled your naked body closer to his. “I'm sorry.”

You didn't want his compassion, it wasn't what you were looking for. Yet, it felt nice. As if you meant something more to him than just his prisoner whore. 

“I was never good for anything but to cause trouble for him, anyway. Like this he doesn't need to find me a husband.” You snorted. “You know what I did to the last one he tried to set me up with? The one who said I couldn't be ‘domesticated’?” Kid's gaze fell on yours, an amused expression wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “I bit off his balls when he tried to fuck me into submission.” Shrugging, you threw out your tongue as Kid burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Aren't ya a feisty lil’ lass?” His chest heaved until his laughter died down. You felt droopy and your eyes started to close, drifting closer and closer to sleep. “Maybe ya can be my wife. We'll see if I can domesticate ya.”

You didn't quite know if he was kidding or not, but sleep claimed you with a smile on your lips at the thought of being Kid's wife. 

-*-

You were woken up in the middle of the night by loud screams and the clangs of swords and axes. Kid wasn't by your side when you rolled over and got up, hastily dressing in your chemise and dress. It sounded like a battle, so you grabbed the bow you kept by your side of the bed. Kid made you that bow once he realised you were very good with it. 

You had been by his side for over a year now. He made you his wife, as he said he would, and there were more nights when you actually made love instead of just fucking. 

You had come to love him. Deeply. And you were positive he loved you back, even though he wouldn't admit it to a soul. He would say love made you weaker or something like that. Times had been kind for your new clan and you had all found peace. 

Yet that thought was quickly swept away once you stepped outside of your hut and were greeted with the sight of burning buildings, slaughtered people and Kid and his men fighting. 

Gripping your bow harder and tighter, you found a secluded perch by climbing onto the roof of the hut and started to take out man after man. They didn't even realise what happened until they were left bleeding on the floor, meeting their final demise at the hands of one of Kid's men or Kid himself, who saw you immediately when an arrow whizzed past his ear. 

It wasn't until the tenth body hit the floor that you realised that these men belonged to your father's clan. Their tartan was clearly the pattern you were so familiar with. That realisation gave away your location and in a heartbeat you were being dragged by your hair, your body hitting the ground with a loud oof, as the air was sucked out of your lungs. As the assailant grabbed his sword, ready to pierce you with the blade, you kicked him hard in the shin and you heard the sickening crunch of bone breaking before he screamed. 

Getting up with a pained grunt, you realise that you must also have broken a few ribs as you were pulled down from the roof, because it hurt to breathe. Still clutching your bow to your chest, you made your way forward, shooting arrows as you went, aiding people in their escape. All the while your eyes were searching for Kid as your heart hammered against your chest. He was nowhere to be seen and that left you anxious. 

And distracted. 

A sharp pain travelled from your thigh to your groin and shot everywhere in short stabbing bursts of pain. There was a blade protruding from your leg and hot droplets of tears threatened to escape your eyes. “Fuck.” You grunted as you turned around, searching for whoever was responsible for this, bow stretched and arrow already in place. 

“It's true, then.” The familiar voice of your brother left you breathless for a moment, making you lose your focus. “You really have become that scoundrel’s whore. I couldn't believe it until I saw it.”

Your jaw clenched as you inhaled short breaths, trying to focus on something other than the throbbing pain in your thigh. He was standing too close for a proper arrow shot and your vision was getting blurry. You would never make the shot even if you wanted to. 

“I'm not his whore. I'm his wife.” You spat at him, rage making your voice tremble. 

Your brother's cackles were like another knife piercing your heart. 

“That's precious. You're still dying. You're no longer family.”

And he lunged forward, sword raised in the air in a stance you'd known your whole life as you'd watched your brothers learn how to fight in the shadows. You knew when to duck, when to move away, and when to jump. He was predictable and his moves were still the same after all these years. You could win this. 

If you weren't bleeding and your movements weren't impaired. 

He struck forward and you knew you had to move left. It was all you had to do, really. But your leg gave out, and he stabbed his sword into your sternum. 

You had never felt pain like this before. It started slowly, in the middle of your chest, but then, as if in waves, it began to spread, leaving you numb and cold. As you fell to your knees, you could see the snicker spreading on your brother's lips. Until it turned into a grimace and blood started to sputter from his mouth as he grunted. 

There was a heavy blade sticking out of his chest, followed by a pained grunt as the sword climbed up his torso, ripping him in two right before your eyes. 

You saw the panting figure of Kid behind him, his breaths coming out in shaken gasps as his face contorted into a pained frown when he laid eyes on you. “No! No, no, no!”

He rushed forward, letting his blade fall to the ground, and his arm circled you desperately. 

You were dying. You knew that. 

A smile found its way to your blood-stained lips as your eyes locked with bright orange ones. Caressing his cheek left a red streak of blood on his skin, but it was quickly washed away by a stream of tears from his eyes. 

“Hey, no crying.” You whispered slowly. The pain was drifting away. “Thank you.”

“No, no. Ye can't leave lil’ lass! I didn't give ya permission!”

Your chuckle turned into a coughing fit, blood spurting everywhere as Kid cradled you in his big arm. Around you shouts were heard, soldiers sounding the retreat. The threat had been thwarted for now. 

“Kid.” Your voice could barely be heard, but you needed to get his attention. “Kid, please. Don't hold a grudge. Please.” You whined and closed your eyes as the numbness relented and gave way to the pain. 

He pulled you against him, trying to hold you carefully but, at the same time, holding you firmly as if it were the last time - it was the last time - his kilt was now completely soaked in your blood. 

“Promise me.” You said firmly, your hand trying to find his cheek again, but failing miserably as you could barely find the strength. “Grudges create lost souls. I can't have you away from me in the afterlife. Promise.” You admonished him. 

He nodded against your face, taking your lips with his, trying to stifle a sob as his shoulders heaved and rocked with the effort. 

“I love you…” Your whisper got lost somewhere in the limbo of eternity as the sparkle of life burned away in your eyes. There was a moment of stillness, Heat, Killer and Wire gathered behind Kid, still as logs. The forest ceased its rustling, and even the animals stopped their sounds. The world stopped spinning when you left it, and Kid lost a piece of himself. 

It was his piercing agonising scream that brought the world back, crashing into rotation, but never the same. 

-*-

Kid didn't really promise you not to hold a grudge. He just nodded. And even if he had made a promise, he was a thief and a scoundrel. Lying was a part of him. 

He did hold a grudge. 

A huge one. He hunted down every single member of your family and slaughtered them all. No one associated with your clan was left alive to tell the tale. Be they elderly or children, Kid was merciless. 

He would not rest until his vengeance was fulfilled. He had never felt love the way he did for you. He had never felt affection the way he did for you. 

And he had never grieved harder. 

If he was suffering, those that caused that suffering should be put to the same misery. 

And he fulfilled that vow. Until he was caught and sentenced to hang in the gallows. 

Yet, he would hang with a smile upon his tainted lips. He had avenged you. None of your clan was left alive to tell the tale, he had made sure of it. And he was hopeful that once his body turned cold and lifeless, he would meet you, in the afterlife. 

So you could spend eternity together, as it should have been. 

The clock struck the hour and Kid was hanged. Killer, Wire and Heat stood watching, heads low and hidden behind cloaks, as their captain paid the price of vengeance. 

Killer was proud of his fearless friend. 

Wire was saddened that it ended this way. 

Heat was worried, because he knew vengeful spirits could not find rest in eternity. 

Heat was right. 

The spirit of Eustass Captain Kid roamed the Highlands. A ghoulish spectre haunting the barrow, searching for his lost wife, forever aiming to find her in the eternity of the afterlife. 

Yet she had warned him. 

Grudges create lost souls. 

So if you find yourself roaming any barrow in the Highlands, whether at night or during the day, know that the wailing you hear is that of the captain, grieving his lost love and the life he was denied. 

Though he avenged her in the end. 

But at what cost? 

[wylanlupin]

february 14th | First I Love You | 802 words | @wolfstarmicrofic

“Daddy, look at me!” Selene runs into the room, screaming. Remus looks up at the name his daughter calls him. Harry too looks up from his phone, why his niece is screaming. Sirius is right at her heels, with a pleased smile on their face.

“Look my hair! Paddy did it,” she explains and smiles with the same beaming smile as her Paddy up at Remus. “Oh, I see, cariad. You look so pretty.”

“Spin for me, Little Selly.” Harry points his phone at Selene, to take a video with her beautiful white summer dress. She does just that and giggles when Harry compliments her.

Sirius braided her black curls in beautiful French braids, just like she loves to wear them herself. “So Harry, what’s new?” Sirius pops a grape in their mouth and watches him. Harry visibly blushes, which automatically wakes Remus and Sirius’ interest even more.

It’s Saturday and Harry randomly came over and said he wanted out from his ‘loud’ family, meaning his three younger sisters. For almost ten years it was just Harry and Charlotte, but after Sirius and Remus decided to have a child of their own, Lily and James tried again too and the twins Ivy and Jade were born.

Selene doesn’t notice anything and just tries to peel the grapes, which is almost impossible, but she’s her parents' daughter. Stubbornness and all.

“Well,” Harry starts and swallows hard. A bright brush colours his brown cheeks and he can’t hide his grin. “Something exciting happened.”

“Out with it, Prongslet!” Sirius’ grey eyes shine so bright that Remus almost forgets what they’re talking about, but then Harry says, “I had my first kiss.”

“What!?” Sirius exclaimed and Remus' eyes grew bigger. “With whom? Don’t say little Draco.” Harry laughs and shakes his head, “No, I don’t think that would’ve ever happened and I decided to move on and then I realised who is always on my side, except Ron and Hermione and we just grew even closer the last few weeks and yesterday I just kissed her!”

Remus feels Sirius vibrating with excitement. “And Luna is now my girlfriend,” he adds, almost looking shyly. Remus sees the love in his green eyes, Lily’s eyes.

“That’s so sweet. She is amazing. I’m so happy for you.” Remus agrees and gives Harry his well-wishes. Harry is now 16 years old, the same age they were when they came together and the rest of their lives started.

He and Sirius analyse the entire kiss in whispers with lots of giggles, while Remus and Selene prepare a fruit salad. “I think I love her,” he admits, “But it’s way too early to tell Luna. Do you remember when you first said ‘I love you’?”

Remus and Sirius’ eyes meet, as they both smile at the same memory. “Oh, that’s something you’ll never forget, Harry.”

Even Selene now looks at her Paddy with big eyes, waiting for them to tell the story behind her beaming smile. “I was already 17 years and Remus was your age, Harry. Our relationship was still very fresh and it was a day after our first Valentine’s Day. We laid in bed together, just being together and we talked for hours when Moony had to go home and we kissed goodbye and he just said the three sweet words. I was so shocked but also so happy and Moony panicked as well and had the audacity to apologise and then he just ran home. The next day I said it back and all was good, but back then it was all dramatic and such big words, now it’s just a cute story to tell your child and godchild.”

Remus has to laugh, “I thought I ruined everything! It was certainly a roller coaster of emotions. But with a happy ending.” He leans down and gives Sirius’ cheek a kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs against her skin and smiles.

Even now after over twenty years together, she still blushes at those words and looks up with so much affection reflecting in her eyes.

“That’s cute, but not how I plan to tell my girlfriend I love her. I plan on doing it a little more romantically.” Sirius snores at that, “Would be the first Potter to say it romantically.”

“Oh I know, my Dad was an embarrassment,” Harry agrees. “But do you know the story of how your grandpa told your grandma?” Sirius smirks at their godson, having the pleasure of telling Harry their favourite story about Monty and Effie.

Knowing the Potters, Harry wouldn’t last two weeks till he'd just burst out the three words at Luna. Remus smiles to himself and starts answering all the questions Selene has to this topic, which are many.