#and now im back on the slash train

[laisai]

someone i follow got into scum villain which made me go back and read scum villain fic after not touching any mxtx fandoms since like... 2019? except for watching the tgcf donghua when it came on netflix.

and now i

i ship shencest

(shen yuan/original shen qingqiu)

its uh.

ive gone through every fic marked complete twice already on ao3

...time to read the incomplete fics 😭

[astragatwo]

This is the delusion I'm going to choose to live in for the foreseeable future, I think. (Bonus doodle under the cut)

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[agreeewrites]

Congratulations on 1000 followers! You deserve it with your talent! I wanna request 1000 Secrets with Charlie Weasley!!! Your writing for him makes me love him more, i reread some of your fics of him and im looking forward to more of your works with Charlie! 🥹♥️

thank you so much darling! i sincerely appreciate your support and participation 🫶🏻

1000 Secrets | C.W.

feat. Charlie Weasley x dragonologist!reader

cw: war, spy!Charlie, angst, hurt/comfort, strong language

masterlist

Lips grazed your temple, rousing you gently from sleep.

“Be back soon, my love,” Charlie cooed, tucking your quilt tighter around your body before kissing you once more. You heard the heavy thump of his boots across the wooden floor of your cabin, the old wooden door creak open, then shut.

It was the second week in a row that Charlie had slipped out in the middle of the night. At first, you assumed it was to go back to his own cabin, keeping up appearances to avoid becoming the latest subject of gossip around the Dragon Sanctuary, but he was never there when you would check in the morning.

He would reappear sometime after breakfast, looking fatigued and windburned. He’d greet you with a friendly nod, maybe a platonic side-hug, and then would disappear the rest of the day, until he showed up at your doorstep, eyes sparkling with promise, to spend another secret evening with you.

Whenever you pressed him about it, he would be evasive, laying on the charm thick as if you could be so easily disarmed. You worked with dragon’s, for Merlin’s sake. Nothing escaped your notice.

Charlie was keeping something from you, and you intended to find out what.

Quickly, you pulled the stash of folded clothes you set out that morning and put them on, sneaking out of your cabin and following the sound of Charlie’s footsteps through the dark. It was nearly impossible to see, the moon a narrow crescent of silver overhead, the overcast sky blotting out the stars.

Charlie walked towards the training pit, where the rideable dragon’s all lived, and his preferred Norweigan Ridgeback appeared as if waiting for him. You ducked low to avoid the perceptive dragon’s eye, and could hear Charlie speaking softly to the beast, reaching up to caress it’s scaled neck.

“Ready, mate? We’ve got a date in London,” he said, sounding weary but determined.

Your heart plummeted, a gasp wrenching itself from your throat. The dragon’s golden eyes flicked towards you, but Charlie didn’t seem to notice. You clapped a hand over your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks, and sank deeper into the bushes.

Charlie was cheating on you? You couldn’t fathom it, not your Charlie. He was the by far the best man you’d ever known: chivalrous, loyal, big-hearted. You never, ever thought he would be capable of something so cruel.

Your relationship may be a secret from your coworkers at the Dragon Sanctuary, but it was far from casual. You loved him, and you were nearly 100% certain he loved you too. Or at least, that's what you thought.

A few moments later, man and beast took the skies, disappearing with a few heavy wing beats.

You ran back to your cabin, choking back angry sobs, and collapsed onto your bed. Surely, you were mistaken, you told yourself. That couldn’t be what he meant.

But if not…then what else?

You cancelled your shift the following day, feigning illness, and you knew it was only a matter of time before Charlie appeared at your cabin to check on you. You had never quesitoned whether or not he cared for you, but now…

A knock responded through the cabin, the knob turning.

“Darling? Soren said you weren't feeling well, so I brought you some—oh, what are you doing out of bed?” Charlie closed the door behind him, setting an armfull of things on the ground by the door. He looked handsome in his work uniform, cargo pants and a slash-proof long sleeve shirt. His copper waves were brushed back, freckled cheeks pink from the cold and under eyes dark with fatigue.

You waited for him in the center of the room, arms crossed over your chest.

Understanding dawned in Charlie’s amber eyes, and he sighed. “Just, promise me you aren't ill before we get into this?”

“I'm not ill,” you bit, and he relaxed a fraction.

He raised his arms, a gesture of surrender. “Let me have it, then.”

“I saw you, last night with your Ridgeback.”

He grimaced, but didn't speak.

“You told her you had a date in London, before taking off. And now, here you are, looking like you hadn't slept in weeks. Two week, perhaps? Since that's how long you've been sneaking out in the middle of the night.”

“You think I'm cheating on you,” he said, his shoulders softening.

“I do.”

Charlie took a few tentative steps towards you, his big hands settling on the slope of your ribs. His eyes were laden with sincerity, wearing the same, serious expression he wore when settling an unruly dragon. “Baby, I'd cut off my own cock and give it to you as a present before I let anyone else near it. I am not and would never stray from you.”

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you forced them down. You so badly wanted to believe him. “So, what then? What are you hiding, Charlie?”

Charlie took a deep breath, eyes squeezing shut before snapping open, sharp and treacherous as the Horntail. “This cannot leave this cabin, do you understand me?”

The edge of his voice made a prickle of fear climb your neck. You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

He stepped back and reached into his boot, withdrawing a crumbled envelope. Carefully, he unfolded it and handed it to you. The page was worn and singed on one side, and entirely blank.

“Charlie, what—”

He tapped his wand to the center of the page, muttering a spell you didn't recognize. A code word, you realized, when inked words bloomed across the parchment.

You recognized the handwriting immediately from your years at Hogwarts.

“Dumbledore asked me to be a spy for the Order,” Charlie said, voice measured, his eyes trained on your face.

You read the letter once, twice, three times. Charlie was in the Order of the Phoenix. Standing at the first line of defense against the Dark Lord.

Indignation mixed with panic made you grit your teeth. “Why would you—”

“Harry Potter is my little brothers best friend, my little sisters heart. My family is putting their lives on the line every day for this war, to protect him.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to hide the hurt, the guilt etched deep into his face. “I can't—I can't sit here, thousands of miles away, and do nothing.”

His words splintered your heart into pieces. You knew how much his family meant to him, how much he hated being away from them, especially during times like these.

“Charlie—” you reached for him, pulling him in for a hug. He was stiff in your arms, uncertain. “I know why you had to do it, love. I understand.” Then, you pulled back to swat his chest with the letter. “What I don't understand is why you didn't tell me so I could go with you!”

Charlie’s jaw tightened. “That's exactly why I didn't tell you!” He snapped, startling you into taking a step back from him. He took a stuttering breath, trying to calm himself. “I can't protect my family. We all know I'm incapable of protecting myself,” he grated, the words escaping between clenched teeth. “But you—I can still protect you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. “This is war. None of us are safe.”

He stepped closer, reaching up to hold your face, his callouses thumb swiping across your cheek to catch your tears. “If they come here, you will take your Horntail and go, fly to America, to Japan. Far away. And you will not wait for me, or anyone else.”

“But—”

“Just promise me,” he pleaded, eyes burning into yours. “And I will come find you, if I can. I swear I will. But I can't lose them and you. I can’t—” his voice cracked with emotion, tears welling along his lower lashline.

“I promise,” you whispered, resting your palms on his chest, his heart racing beneath his skin. “But you have to promise me that you'll be careful—that you won't do anything reckless. You have to promise that you'll stay alive so you can come find me, if it comes to that.”

“Darling, I’d crawl to you.” He rested his forehead against yours. “I promise.”

You rose onto your toes and closed the final inch between you, molding your lips to his in a tearful, desperate kiss. He looped his arms around your waist, hauling you into his chest and deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed yours, charting every inch of your mouth like he was committing it to memory.

Charlie was the keeper of countless secrets, but in that moment, you knew you were his most precious one, the one he'd keep tucked away in his heart: safe from harm.

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[icallhimjoey]

now you’re allowed to write again, this is a formal request for the smut pls 🤝🏼😌

okay so, im bringing back bet!joe for you, because part of your brand is privately requesting specific smut, so our double or nothing boy's back with a new bet! (lil tw: it's.... it's right there, in the request, 18+) Wordcount: 2.4K

---

All The Aces

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“You’re wrong.”

He was wrong.

“Am I?” Joe smirked before he threw his head back to catch a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Izzy, please tell him he’s wrong.”

He was so, so wrong.

The flake of popcorn he then threw over that got stuck in your hair went vocally ignored – you just fished it out and threw it back, watched how Joe was chewing an open mouthful of his own, smugly smiling at your bad aim.

That flake landed on the floor about two feet away from him. Izzy picked it up as she walked past, already annoyed with the two of you before she’d even sat down.

Him visibly enjoying her disdain wasn’t exactly helping his case.

“Don’t get me involved in whatever you two do to get each other off.” Izzy commented as she sat down next to you to which you audibly gasped.

You were pressed into the corner of your sofa with a little bowl of crisps balanced on the side – your own one, because neither Joe or Izzy wanted any crisps. They wanted popcorn, so they got to share the big bowl.

With your flatmate slash best friend next to you, your legs pretty much filled out the entire sofa, leaving Joe sit by himself in the armchair and thus placing Izzy in between the two of you, right in line of your crossfire.

“We don’t–” you started, but the dropped jaw you’d had on show for a second too long had prompted Joe to chuck a whole handful of popcorn at you.

None actually made it into your mouth.

“I genuinely don’t need to hear about what does or doesn’t get you off.” Izzy raised her voice slightly as she looked at Joe, telling him off for throwing food. He immediately stopped his laughter and apologised by handing the bowl over to her before he sat back, giving you the opportunity to pick and drop all thrown flakes back into the bowl.

“Just, just take it from me that he’s– you’re wrong.” you urged, and Joe just laughed.

Izzy shook her head as she took a deep breath in through flared nostrils.

Joe took that to mean more than just sheer annoyance at being dragged into whatever childish fight you had going.

“Izzy knows what’s up,” Joe held up a hand, ready to high five her, absolutely willing her refusal to get into this argument with you as an agreement to him being right.

Which, he very much wasn’t.

Izzy ignored him though, left him hanging like a loser, which made you chuckle.

“Will you just, hear me out? Did you hear what he said just now?” you sat up a little, legs crossing in front of you as you turned to Izzy who was now finding whatever she said she wanted to watch on the TV, remote in hand, eyes trained on the screen.

“She did hear me, which is why she won’t.” Joe simply said, leaning back in his chair all relaxed, hands behind his head, legs crossing at the ankles as he placed them on the coffee table.

“No, but, listen. Joe said–”

“I don’t care what Joe said,” Izzy deadpanned. “These lovers quarrels ain’t it. I know you live here so I can’t just kick you out, but…” Izzy’s eyes flicked to Joe, which made him scoff in mock-shock before he let his face turn kind.

Sarcastically kind.

 “No, she’s right. It’s okay. I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I’m just a man, and what do I really know, right? You know, besides the fact that you have like, a billion more nerve endings than we do, which arguably should mean I’m right, just by the science and biology of everything, but, fine. I’ll be wrong if that makes you feel better. I accept my defeat.”

As Joe finished his small monologue, you were both frowning at him - for different reasons.

You, because he was being a little shit.

Izzy, because she was slowly trying to puzzle together what the fuck he was on about.

She then slowly turned her head towards you, eyes squinted in thought, and you sighed as you looked at her. You pretended Joe wasn’t able to hear you when you said, “Maybe you should kick him out, I’m not–”

“It’s 8000.”  She interrupted you sort of casually.

“What?”

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, it’s 8000 nerve endings for you,” Izzy nodded at you, and then turned to Joe to nod at him, “And 4000 for you.”

Joe raised his eyebrows in slight surprise as he smiled, reaching for another hand of popcorn with one hand whilst pointing the other at you.

“See? Double! That’s double the pleasure!”

“What do you mean, see? Like that proves you’re right?”

“Are you forgetting that we’re talking about something I am witness to? You can’t make such wild claims when I literally know how you–”

“Oh, my God. Stop!”

Izzy rapidly turned her head a few times between the two of you, trying to follow along, before she muted the TV and sat back a little.

“All right, I’m too invested now. What the fuck is the problem…”

“She said women don’t care for orgasms.”

“That’s not what I said, you– No, Izzy,” you had to laugh at the vile facial expression she gave you. “That’s not what I said! I said that for me–”

“No, no no. You said for women.” Joe was quick to correct you, wagging a complacent finger at you.

“Sure, yes. Fine. For women, sex isn’t just about the orgasm at the end. Like, that’s not the most important thing. It’s not all about that.”

Izzy’s face dropped as she blinked slowly, and you saw how Joe was studying her face as he did his very best to keep his own laughter inside of his body.

“Don’t you agree there’s so many other things–”

“Shh shh,” Joe held up a hand, “Let her think.”

You obliged with an eye roll.

Joe was wrong.

“I don’t…” Izzy seemed at a fucking loss. What the fuck was this conversation she’d just accepted herself into? It was bad enough that these were sometimes the type of discussions held within your group of friends, wild accusations thrown over a table that you all got far too passionate about. It was a whole other thing to have two of those said friends now together, as a couple, having the debate in Izzy’s living room where the issue was wholly personal and, worst of all, inescapable.

She sighed as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“Sex isn’t just about the orgasm, right?” you tried, speaking softly, praying she’d at least sort of agree with you. You knew she did, but didn’t know if she’s vocalise it in the moment because you also understood she thought you and Joe were being fucking ridiculous.

She just wanted to watch her favourite show on TV.

Have a quiet night in.

And yet, here you were.

Talking about if orgasms mattered or not.

“Oh, then what is it about?” Joe couldn’t help spatting out as he went for another handful of popcorn from the bowl Izzy had now placed on the table in front of him.

“Um,” you sat up more, now borderline sitting on your knees and nearly knocking off the small bowl of crisps behind you, holding both hands up, ready to count on your fingers.

“Foreplay, intimacy, being close, feeling connected–” you saw Joe slump back into his seat, pushing his chin up as he sarcastically nodded at you with squinted eyes and a deep frown.

It was stupid how that made you laugh whilst you also tried your best at raising your voice to make sure he was hearing what you were saying. To convey you weren’t lying. Which, you truly weren’t!

You continued, “Doing a fun activity together, it’s like quality time, isn’t it?” you tried, nudging Izzy, but not waiting for an answer as you quickly carried on with, “The attention, being appreciated– giving appreciation! Learning about each other! All of these things go both ways, Joe, there’s just… there’s so many things.”

You looked at him a second whilst he seemed to think it over. Just when his facial expression seemed to give way with a raised eyebrow and a small cock to the side of his head, you sternly demanded, “Admit you’re wrong.” which was exactly the wrong thing to say.

“I’ll admit those things are nice, sure.”

Joe threw back his handful of popcorn and wiped his hands, giving himself a moment to think of how he was going to phrase what he was about to say.

You and Izzy waited expectantly, both sets of eyes on Joe who seemed far too relaxed for a single guy sat opposite two women, making wild claims that he somehow would know more about sex from a woman’s perspective than they would.

He truly did believe that to be the case, though.

So wrong.

“But, if we’re not crossing the finish line, what’s the point?”

“Did you not listen to the whole list of things I just gave you?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You absolutely are wrong.”

“I’m not only not wrong. I am also, right.”

Izzy, who had been quiet for a bit, stared into the space in front of her as she suddenly loudly scoffed.

“He’s wrong right?” you pushed just slightly, desperately needing your best friend to be on your side for this one.

“Listen,” Izzy started, holding up a hand. “I’ve…” she faltered, and you made eye contact with Joe, a little panicked, a little confused.

What if she was going to tell you that you were wrong?

Oh no.

Best friend betrayal.

If Izzy disagreed with you, she could be an adult about it and pretend, just for the sake of it, that you were right and then tell you about her real feelings later, outside of Joe’s earshot.

Bros before hoes and all that.

“The finish line is important…”

Yes.

You smiled as smugly as you could and saw Joe’s slowly fade.

Izzy was a bro.

Yes.

You could just feel how she was about to side with you on this before she’d even said the words.

“But if it’s between all that she said and just, as you put it, crossing the finish line... she wins. She’s right.”

There.

End of discussion.

You didn’t cheer, or high five your best friend, or point at Joe to shriek at him that he was an idiot. You just accepted Izzy’s answer and gave a small shrug that quietly said, “See?”

Izzy reached for the remote she’d put down, unmuted the TV, and Joe watched as the two of you got comfortable on the sofa together. How you sat back and reached for snacks and laid the throw blankets across your laps just right.

It was a little suspicious how long he stayed quiet, but you knew it would only be a moment for him to try and argue his case once more.

There was no point, you knew, but you also knew Joe had an ego that was fragile, like all men had egos that were fragile.

Male egos couldn’t just take hits like this one, even if he was outnumbered.

You were chewing on a crisp when, from the corner of your eye, you saw Joe’s finger wag from left to right, pointing at the two of you before he spoke.

“You can’t actually be serious…”

“Oh yea.” Izzy didn’t even look at him as she answered, and it was hard to hide your smile. “So serious.”

“So, you’re saying…” Joe sat up, both elbows on his knees, whilst neither of you moved. “You’d rather have sex and not come–”

“Half the time, that’s just life,” Izzy complained, and you both laughed.

Joe didn’t.

Your moment of haha-men-suck that had its feet stuck in truths had you laughing louder when you saw how Joe definitely wasn’t in on the joke.

When Izzy saw, she snapped her head towards you and stage whispered, “Uh oh…” through her giggles.

Joe scooted forward even further and doubled down, “You would rather have sex and not orgasm, than have an orgasm? Is that what you are saying?”

He needed to hear you say it.

“Joe… please accept that you’re wrong and let it rest.” You were very much trying to be the bigger person, which was easy when your friend had just helped you win the argument.

But then Izzy grabbed hold of your arm as she looked at your boyfriend.

“Careful...” she warned alarmingly. “I’ve seen that face before.”

“Tell me you mean that. What I just said. Say that you would rather have sex without an orgasm than one with one...” Joe ignored Izzy, dark eyes locked right onto yours, facial expression made of stone.

“No, that’s not...” you sighed, looked at Izzy, said, “He doesn’t get it.”

“He doesn’t get it.” Izzy echoed.

You were still making fun, unable to stop your giggles.

“Say what you mean, then.” Joe was still leant forward, was still staring you down, all serious and urgent.

“Can we just watch TV now, please?” Izzy interupted, increasing the volume of the TV slightly.

Joe didn’t falter in this weird staring contest he’d started, one you weren’t participating in.

You looked down at your bowl of crisps as you fished out another one.

You bit it in half and saw how Joe grew a little impatient as his eyes followed your hand as you fed yourself.

Then, you finally answered, “Sex isn’t about the orgasm.” And Joe immediately clapped his hands together loudly, making both you and Izzy jump slightly. He seemed incredibly pleased as he sat back in the armchair, rubbing his hands together before he pointed a quick finger at you.

“I’m going to prove you wrong.”

A startled laugh escaped you as you and Izzy shared a look.

“All right, good luck mate.”

This time, it was Joe’s turn to scoff, and that smug little smile from before made its return.

“Won’t need it. You just wait.”

You looked at each other for a moment, and you didn’t trust his confident bearing one bit, but were too stubborn to let your own satisfied smile fade.

“Fine.” you said challengingly.

Joe was wrong.

“Fine.” Joe copied.

So wrong.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

[potchi-fics]

break in (part two of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv | v

      jingling keys fill the hallway, shakily putting the key into your apartment. you cant help but berate yourself for the mess you've caused earlier: what the fuck am i doing. after a few seconds, you let out a breath of relief as you finally step inside your home.

"oh my god," you shrug your coat off, hanging it. "thats the last time im ever doing that."

      you make your way into your living room, noticing how everything looks the same but yet different-- you take a look around: the lights are off, the rug is untouched, and my couch is..

shit.

"surprised?" her familiar rough voice sends chills up your spine, "nice place you got here, topsider."

you carefully but slowly grab your slightly tainted with blood dagger, "leave."

      a scowl forms on your tired face, eyebrows furrowing, and your stance tensing up. leisurely, she rises to her feet; you just barely see the smoke she puffs out. her height is a bit intimidating, you admit. her mechanical arm is glowing in the dim room, and her muscular back. god, she looks so solid. 

her muscular back?

your train of thought gets cut off when she turns to finally look at you, her stupid mouth turning into a smirk. right then and there, you think to yourself that you already hate her.

she stubs out her cigarette on your table, "what were you-"

"are you serious?" your face morphs into anger now, "thats a very expensive table."

      sevika's shoulder slumps at what you said, but you paid no mind to her. only pushing her aside to get the cigarette and clean the ash, patting the remnants of the cig rather furiously. she tries again, only to get cut off again by you suddenly turning your heated gaze at her.

"look, i dont know what you want from me," you step towards her, dagger in hand. "but have some respect."

      before you can lecture her again, she swings her fist at you, which you swiftly dodge. she tried to grab you using her mechanical arm. however, you batted it away with your right hand-- throwing a slash of your dagger right back at her, successfully making a small wound in the corner of her lip. you attempt to combo with a hook to her rib, but you aren't so lucky this time because she evades, grabbing you and pulling you close: she smells like wood and cigarette. 

she puts her face close to yours, "you sure youre just an engineer, topsider?" you grit your teeth, "you sure know how to fight."

"let me go," using the element of surprise; you headbutt her, "what do you want from me?"

      you dont miss how she stumbles back, you also dont miss how she smirks at your actions. 

you roll your eyes, "you into that shit?"

"only if youre into it," sevika throws back. "look, im not here to fight, topsider."

sevika almost laughs at how your jaw drops, "girl, fuck do you mean im not here to fight? you literally threw a punch first."

      she smirks once more, pissing you even more off. sevika gives you a shrug before plopping down on your newly washed cushions, her dirty boots finally stepping on your rug.

"you know what, you may be sevika, silco's righthand woman," you march at her, "but dont be putting your dirty clothes on my shit."

sevika ignores you, "what, you scared im gonna dirty your shit?"

"yes, thats exactly it, sevika." you deadpan.

      you take a sit in front of her, using the other couch-- still wary. you take this time to stare at her again. assessing what she's wearing; to see if she has any more weapons, of course. your eyes roam from her thick thighs up to her waist, and finally reaching her face. christ, those cheekbones and jaw-- the things you would do. but a spark from her mechanical arm catches your arm. you tilt your head, analyzing on why thats happening.

"done staring?" you roll your eyes for what feels like a thousand times now, "i need you to fix my arm. did my research on you, and i know youre capable of fixing my damn arm."

you give sevika an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look, "why would you break into my home for that? you couldve gone to my shop."

      she only replies with a lazy shrug, annoying you again. the world really is testing your patience. you thought you'd be scared of the woman in front of you; never did you think that you'd be annoyed instead. 

      she only replies with a lazy shrug, annoying you again. the world really is testing your patience. you thought you'd be scared of the woman in front of you; never did you think that you'd be annoyed instead. you still dont trust her, still mad that she broke into your home, started a fight, and is making herself at home.

"if i fix it, will you leave?" she nods, not saying anything. "fine. stay here, dont even move an inch."

      you hurriedly get your toolbox, desperate to get rid of her. you come back to her still on your couch; she's basically taking up all the damn space in it. she looks at you as you pull up a chair beside her whirring arm. you take another look at it, and from the looks of it, the damage is most likely inside, seeing how it is perfectly fine: a few dents here and there, but overall fine.

with hesitation, you ask the zaunite, "may i?"

"go for it, topsider." she offers you her arm.

you scoff at her, "please stop calling me that."

      you begin to unscrew the tiny screws using your electric screwdriver, putting the screws aside, you pull the cover. the wirings are a mess. you asses it for a few seconds before going to work again; you grumble a few curses out because of the messy wiring, saying how can anyone be so careless.

"y'know, instead of punching me," you plug the loose wire back into its place, "punch the bitch who made this mess."

      a snort escapes from her, not expecting your vulgarity. not one word is said after that, and you let it stay that way; breathing and the noises of your tools are only heard in your quiet apartment, finally relaxing while rebuilding her arm. minutes pass and youre screwing the last screw into her arm before patting it.

you tell her, "all done, im not expecting any payment since its just a loose wire."

"not bad, topsider." sevika takes a look at her brand new-ish arm.

      you stand up and wordlessly point to your door, wanting her to leave as soon as possible because, at this point, you just want to sleep. you just want to feel your soft pillows and soft mattress. 

"oh," she walks to your window instead, "i didnt enter there."

    i hate you so much.

[futfemfantasies]

Unexpected meetings - Katrina Gorry x Morgan!reader

Prompt #20 - Alex Morgan little sister (5 years younger) - dating ___. Alex finds you two making out after a national team friendly - USA vs ___. Alex ‘threatens’ ___.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2018

The smaller body in your arms started to turn, which causes you to slowly wake from your peaceful sleep. You look into Katrina's brown eyes and melt instantly. Wordlessly, you both lean forward and envelope each others lips in a soft kiss. Katrina's small hands wandered up your sleep shirt, tracing the outline of your abs as you both continued to kiss. A loud siren like alarm blasts through the room, causing you two to jump apart before laughing.

"I told you to change that babe"

Katrina laughs as she sits up and stretches, showing off her muscular back that makes you drool.

Just as you open your mouth to speak, you hear a loud banging on the door.

"Y/N/N get your ass up! You're late to breakfast"

Your lovely older sister yells through the door.

"Okay I'll be down in 10"

"Make it 5 or I'll bench today"

You roll your eyes at the lame threat, knowing she can't actually do that.

A text is quickly sent out to the group chat of the entire team excluding your sister saying you need them to distract Alex to sneak a girl out. Thankfully, no comments were made apart from the usual Sonnett and Kelley but you choose to ignore them most of the time.

You got ready in your training gear while Katrina quickly found her Matildas clothes around the room. You walk up to Katrina and wrap your arms around her waist tightly, so she can't leave. You lightly kiss her jaw and trail down her neck. She moans slightly but realises you both need to go.

"C'mon babe, we need to go"

Katrina says trying to get out of your grip.

"Just let me hold you longer"

You mumble into her.

Your cuddle session by your phone ringing to say you have a text.

Kelley: We have Al distracted, get the girl out now!

"Right let's go baby"

You put on your slides and grab the keycard, as well as your phone before racing out the door.

In the elevator, you once again hold Katrina in your arms and sigh into her hair. Katrina turns around and kisses you quickly before the doors open. As they open, you see the meeting slash breakfast room door shut and you know this is your chance. You both walk hand in hand across the foyer and out the front entrance, letting out a breath of relief. You bid Katrina a goodbye and that you'll see her later. You watched her walk back to the hotel, which was only next door, so you know she's safe.

Short stack 💘: stop watching me you creeper...

y/n/n 🦋: just wanted to make sure you are safe baby 🥺

short stack 💘: aww, well you are forgiven. i love you 😘

y/n/n🦋: i love you more, see you later sunshine xx 🥰

Walking back into the hotel, a part of you felt gone but at least she was only next door. You look up from your phone to see your sister standing there with her arms crossed and eyebrows tightly knitted together. Kelley along with a few other of your friends were behind Alex mouthing 'im sorry' as they couldn't keep her in the room. You just hoped she didn't see who you were with.

“What were you doing that made everyone attempt to keep me in the room?”

“Nothing Al, don’t worry”

Attempting to push past her, Al grabs your wrist causing you to turn around.

“We don’t need any distractions y/n/n”

“Trust me Al, she’s far from a distraction”

You say pulling your arm away and walking into the meal room.

After breakfast you all have a few hours before leaving for the game so you decide to have a shower and attempt to relax until the game. You hear a bang on your door and you know you have to go. With your kit bag in hand, you put your headphones on and grab your phone before walking out to the bus.

The bus ride to the stadium was quiet. No one dared to come near you are they knew when you had either earphones or headphones on not to bother you. You arrived at the stadium and noticed the Australian bus just arrived as well. You look behind you slightly and locked eyes with Katrina before giving her a wink. Alex pushes you forward slightly as a silent way of telling you to hurry up and you give her a glare no one wants to receive.

After the national anthems have been sung and the coin tossed, the game was ready to begin. You stand in position, alongside your sister up front, and put your game face on. Sam Kerr kicks the ball off and now it’s game time, until the 22nd minute when your own girlfriend scores a rocket from outside the box. You hung your head in shame and walked back to position. The whole game is a cat and mouse situation with no one really getting close enough to shoot. You spot Lindsey with the ball and you weave past Emily and Alanna into an open gap and call for the ball. You move around the players and look up to see a perfect distance between you and the goal. The next thing you know the fans are cheering, drums being hit and your teammates jumping on your and smacking your head. After the next few minutes of extra time, the whistle is blown and the game ends in a one all draw.

You shake the hands of your friends in the Australian team until you get to one in particular, who you were saving for last. You wrap Katrina up in your arms and stay like that for a few minutes taking in the time you have together, even though you play for the same club team.

“You played so well out there bubs. I’m proud of you. That goal was amazing”

“I’m proud of you too speedy. Can we swap jerseys?”

You nod and start to take off your jersey.

Katrina’s jersey just fits in your tall build, while yours looks like a dress on her. You get called over by Christen and you bid your goodbyes to Katrina. You get back to the locker room and you know you’re not going to see her for a few weeks so you just need to see her one last time.

y/n/n 🦋: meet me in the hallway xx 😉

short stack 💘: 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

You throw your tee on and slides before walking out of the dressing room to meet your ever so sexy girlfriend leaning up against the wall. Grabbing her hand and checking no one from either team followed, you both move to a more secluded area around the corner. You two wasted no time and smashed your lips on each others. Your hands going just under Katrina's jersey, resting on her hips, while hers are playing with the baby hairs on the back of your head. Just as you go to move you knee between Katrina's legs, you hear someone clear their throat. The two of you pull apart to see your sister standing there, arms crossed and a face not impressed.

"So this is who you were sneaking out this morning"

"Al listen I-"

You started but got cut off immediately.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me. I thought we told each other everything y/n/n"

"Trust me Al I wanted to tell you bu-"

"I can't be here right now. And you"

Alex directs her attention to Katrina.

"If you even think about hurting a single hair on her body, you better watch out"

Alex walks away and you want to break down in tears. Katrina pulls you in a tight hug and you start apologising for your sisters behaviour, since she's never done it to any of your exes before.

"Hey you have nothing to apologise for. You've done nothing wrong. You're okay"

You physically relax in Katrina's arms and you pull your head out of her shoulder and see Christen and Tobin walking towards you.

"Hey Kat, I'm guessing it went well with Alex then?"

Christen asks and you give her a look that Tobin laughs at.

"Well we're leaving in about 15 minutes so if you want a shower, I'd go now"

You nod and the pair walk off and you feel Katrina tug on your hand to face her.

"Everything's going to be okay. Just let her calm down and talk to her back at the hotel. I'm literally just next door okay?"

Katrina leans up to kiss your cheek ever so lightly, making you blush slightly

"I love you so much"

"I love you too but more when you're less smelly now go shower"

You both walk to your respective locker rooms when you look back and blow Katrina a kiss. Meanwhile in the locker room, you walk in and Alex comes over, hugging your side.

"I'm sorry y/n/n, I just don't wanna see you hurt"

"She's not going to hurt me, I promise. You can calm down with the protective older sister vibe too. I honestly think I'm going to marry her one day"

Alex smiles for the first time since the full time whistle was blown and pulls you into her famous bear hugs.

“I’m just happy you’re happy bug”

2023

liked by samanthakerr20, alexmorgan, stephcatley, mackenziearnold, katrinagorry10 and 84,963 others

itsyn25: 26.05.23 ~ i asked my best friend to marry me and she said yes. i can't wait to spend forever with you my love 🥰🥺

view all 10,485 comments...

alexmorgan: OMG YAY! I just told Charlie and she hasn't stopped jumping and screaming... love and miss you all 💘

itsyn25: maybe that means you both need to visit...

kyracooneyx: yay mums are getting married 😊

christenpress: i'm so happy for you bestie xx 🥺😊

katrinagorry10: i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you ❤️

[kuni-is-daddy]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT (new anon here btw :3)

summoner!y/n summons a demon, that demon being scara but he was a very… lustful demon and had needs for his own, using y/n as his own personal pet >_<

DOM!Demon Scara X Summoner Female Reader

//HI ANON. WELCOME TO THE SCARANATION I HOPE U ENJOY UR STAY♥️

ScaramoucheMasterList

word count: 1.67k(150 follower special ♥️)

Featuring: A mention of chongyun,xiao and Kujou sara.

Warning: Scara horni. ((Teasing,Blowjb,M/press,Biting, aftercare.))

MINORS AND UNDERAGED BLOGS/USERS THIS IS NSFW CONTENT! PLEASE DONT INTERACT BEYOND THE CUT.

A cycle, That is what you would call your life once you moved from inazuma at a young age and became the strongest summoner in teyvat. Waking up in your house by guili plains to be greeted by your younger friend, Exorcist Chongyun at the door. He was a good kid and even saw you as his idol despite being in rival clans. Summoners had demon familiars. And would lead exorcists and even the lone yaksha of guili plains to exterminate the corruption deep within liyue. You wore a similar outfit to him with opposing colors. A white embroided hoodie with dark blue aligned the stitches, a black undershirt and skirt, separated by a silver belt holding your vision and trinkets to sedate demons; leading down to your stockings and boots. Wake up, summon spirits to kill, Run errands for the higher ups, train and sleep. So, you had a plan, Rebellion. All you needed was shouki no kami. The first descendant of the raiden gakoden who was sealed by his own creator. He was known for mediocre things; giving wishes or killing those that the summoner wanted dead. Only for a small price..

After moving all of the belongings out to the living room you stood in your empty room infront of the tri electro symbol made of chalk as lightning struck from the outside. The only thing remaining was your made bed and backpack. Along each side of the tri electro symbol laid 3 'artifacts' Each one representing the three betrayals he once suffered. The first was a figure of the almighty narukami ogoshu, something you had plenty of thanks to your distant friend kujou sara. The second was a blade crafted by a swordsmith from tartarsuna. The 3rd was a doll representing a young male child. As a summoner it was against your sworn oath to ever summon a demon for evil. But it didn't matter, with this new life shouki no kami would give you there'd be no need to turn back.

With a deep breath you began the chant and closed your eyes. "Oh everlasting arcane demon of wisdom I summon you forth with the 3 artifacts of your betrayals. Please bestow your divine gaze upon me." With the last word leaving your lips the world fell silent, not a single drop of rain poured down your cracked window and remained suspended with the rays of lightening as if all time stopped. It was ominous and different from you previous summons. Painfully silent with your rushing heartrate in your ear as the only comfort. You opened your eyes at the disturbance and looked at the ritual. 'The offerings are missing..So it worked.' you began to take a step to observe your surroundings when a timid yet soothing voice echo'd from behind you.

"Another human asking for my help. Hah, to think such a self righteous species would run to a demon." You turned to face the demon, falling into his enticing gaze as if it was the abyss itself as he sat on your bed, legs crossed and head resting against his fist on your headboard. The demon had a beautiful face, indigo hair that covered his ears and slashed against the blood red eyeliner. His horns we'rent too big and neither was his black tail with a heart shaped tip. "I'll make this easy for you, im not in a good mood. So dont waste my time." you blinked out of his capitvating gaze and remembered why you summoned him. "S-sorry. Im a summoner and my name is y/n. I..Want a new life." The demon raised an eyebrow "Y/n.. Now thats a surprise." He looked you up and down, examining your appearance. It really was you. Same face, same vision and the same beautiful body.. The demon smirked. "uhm..Do you know me?" you replied "Tsk, who doesnt? 'y/n, the savior of liyue and summoner of demons." He mocked. "Alot of people want you dead, you know that?" your heart sunk at his words. "D-dead.. why?" "Dunno. But if it we're me, come one. Come all id say." Shouki no kami left you in shock. You've already thought this 'destined' life of yours was a burden. But others didn't even want you to live it any longer. Your stomach began to turn a the thought, covering your mouth from nausea.

"But would you look at that, I finally got to see this pathetic world's strongest." He smiled, watching as you covered your mouth in disgust. "Pft- Don't tell me you'd really believe everything I said just like that? I'm a demon, I could be lying to you~" he teased, but you we're to caught up in his words, if they wanted you dead.. why did he refuse and kill them instead? Looking back at the demon, he seemed unbothered.. intrigued actually. It began creeping you out more then the thought of having a unknown target over your head for so long. The way he looked at you as if he was undressing you with his eyes during the subtle silence of your nervous breathing to the way his tail would sway when you told him your name... 'So.. a new life. That's what you want?' No kami unproped his legs, hitting his heel on your bag. Interested, He looked back at you again still stuck in a shocked daze and turned back to it. Picking it up as his black nails tugged at the zipper, revealing the many cursed tools, a sigil of permission and even the picture of him you used for the ritual. He took out the ripped paper. 'Shouki no kami, scaramouche: The prodigal.' "WAIT- dont touch that!" you snatched the bag from his hand, letting out a relieved sigh. "T-theres all kinds of things in there that could hurt you...and why are you even going through my stuff?!" you said defensively. "Hurt me? you think those little toys in there would have an effect on me." he revealed the sigil of permission in his hand, flinging it around like a human feeding a dog while sticking out his tongue. You angerly placed the bag down, climbing onto your bed and trying to take back the sigil.

Scara relished in your attempts to take it, your skirt brushed against his shorts while the fingertips of your smooth left hand grazed along his ripped black shirt. The closer you got to the demon, the more you smelled a metaled tint coming from him. The small droplets of blood oozing onto your hand. He would never let someone be ontop of him, nor have him in a view of submission but compared to the past summoners who he's killed. You've been the only interesting one and ontop of that..The strongest. The demon licked at his fangs, slowly bucking his hips up against your lower body. But with his guard down you snatched the sigil back and tucked it ontop of the dresser. Relaxed by Leaning back and sitting on the demons clothed length. This is the life you wanted, peaceful with no worrys of who killed who and what to summon, ironically for a split second this demon gave you that life. "How childish, the strongest summoner chasing after a sigil like a cat." "T-thats not the point.. Stop acting funny and give me my wish!" 'brat' You insisted as your body passively grinded against him. "A new life, Is that all you truly want?" He flicked his free hand as a spark of electro glowed Infront of your face. It was enticing, you already we're told people wanted you dead so what more did you have to lose. "Y-yes! I want it..please Shouki no kami." your fingers dug into the demons shirt. His cock twitched at the way you pleaded for his blessing, over something so stupid as a 'new life' he knew more then anyone the divine dont mind playing cruel tricks on its prisoners.

----Smut

"Then get on your knees." The words left his smooth lips as his tail trailed to your leg, feeling against the texture of your stockings. Making you jolt up a little from the sensation. "E-excuse me?!" "You fucking heard me. Get on your knees and show me how bad you want this life." It was threatening, with no hesitation you quickly rose off of the demon as he began propping himself up just as you first saw him only his legs we're spread and eyes filled with lust. You looked back at the sigil only for scara to grab you by your hair to have you face directly at his pained boner. "To think the strongest would be more focused on a useless thing like this instead of me." He jerked your head again, "Now tell me, y/n. How bad do you want this life?" "M-more then anything shouki no kami! Please." He chuckled, "Anything huh?" "Y-yes shouki no-" He sucked his teeth. "Scara, call me scara." "O-okay scara..Please take my blood and-" He cut you off, "blood? You think i need your blood for this?" you nodded, "No, brat. I have something better for me and you." His black painted nails disappeared into his pants, slowly revealing the tip of his length then the rest of his cock. You gulped, From your position his size looked bigger then your whole head. No..you we're sure it was bigger. "Be a good girl and make me feel good, Maybe then i'll give it too you." He brushed the tip near your face.

Reluctantly, you licked your lips the trailed your tongue around the tip while the demon did nothing but stare at you as he held your hair, Unamused. "More. Do you not know how to suck a cock?" Your heart raced as he tightened his grip along your hair. It was humiliating with your title to be down on a demon like this and you we're sure the pervert was getting off to it. His length entered your mouth. "hng..Shit your so warm." You began bobbing your head up and down slowly, Adjusting to his size. "Fuck..Thats it..Go faster." He bucked his hips up into your face, Hitting the back of your throat as you desperately avoided gagging. "Fuck...faster. Be a good pet and make master feel good" You shifted your free hand down and under your skirt. Tending the sudden wetness inbetween your legs. Scara ran his hand through his hair, watching your hand trail down to your skirt. "Oh yeah? Is my pet getting off to this? How- Hng..Fucking pathetic.." his tail trailed against your hoodie and back to your neck. nudging against you more to take him deeper. "Fuck yes..Masters close, swallow it all pet- Ah swallow it~" He tugged his hand on your hair again, Pressing you up and down on his cock balls deep as he reached his high. Your eyes began rolling back as you choked on his length, tears streaming down your cheeks and Gripping your hand onto his thigh from his aggression while your other toy'd with your clit. With a loud groan his hot fluid rushed down your throat making you see stars as he pulled your head off his length. "Ngh...shit..Such a good pet..Who would've thought the great y/n would-" "P-please sca-master can i have my wish now?" he tilted his head at your request. Oh right.. you did ask for a new life. "Sure pet~ Get on the bed." you whined from his words "M-master~ please i-" He picked you up, slamming you onto the bed face down. squishing your head onto the pillow while jerking your hips up and ass near his cock. Your skirt poofed up, revealing your now ripped stockings near your private parts. Scara's fangs we're aching to just sink his teeth into your thighs or any part of your body but you we're the strongest after all, he didnt take that forgranted. The second he let his guard down again you'd most likely try to take advantage.

He trailed his hand under your skirt, while the other brushed your hips closer to his cock. All you could do was hug the pillow through your muffled pleads. "M-master! Please- wait- d-dont touch their its-" "Wet? Hah..I know pet~ you want this cock so bad dont you?" He ripped your stockings and skirt off and began stroking at his length before entering. Even slapping at your ass just to laugh at you jolting from it. "This...is going to be your new life pet~" In a blink he shoved his entire length inside you. "S-scara! Wait ah~ i-its too big!" He leaned down, grabbing and choking you from the back of your neck. "AH~ Mahster~ I-i cant~ Please~" He grew irritated at your pleads. "Shh..You'll be fine pet. Now be good f' me and take it~ fuck.." the sound of skin slapping and your headboard creeking echo'd across the room as scara groaned and even let out higher pitched moans from how good you we're taking him. "Thats it..Just like that.. Im gonna fucking cum inside you for being such a good girl. The strongest- Hah~ fucking summoner crying for me. Fuck yes~" He let go of your throat, as you panted and drooled on the pillow from his now faster pace. "Master~ AH~ Y-your going to fast! I- m' close!" "Fuck yeah your gonna squirt f' me? Do it y/n~ Cum all over my cock and ill give it to you~ Hah.. Ill give you what you fucking want~" A chord struck in you, and for the next couple of seconds it felt as if your mind turned to mush while you sunk into the pillow, panting from the juices that escaped onto his length. Scara couldnt help himself anylonger, He flipped you over onto your back then pulled his pants completely off as you still held onto the pillow in shock. Folding your legs onto his shoulders and pounding into you in a mating press. "Hiding behind a- ah~ pillow now? Tsk- you really are pathethic-" He tossed the pillow onto the floor and sunk his head into your neck. "Mahster! AH MASTER T'TO MUCH~ SCARA-" He sunk his fangs into your neck. Making you moan out and grab onto his horns from the shock wave of pain and pleasure. He came instantly from your grip and passive stroking on his horns. Painting your walls white with his sticky load. He pulled away from your neck after noticing your sudden rested breathing. 'She passed out' he thought. Scoffing, he licked up clean the small amount of blood from your neck. Leaving his electro symbol in replace of the healing bitemark. Scara didnt know what came over him, But his tail shifted towards the palm of your hand as if it had a mind of its own. Your too precious.

'To think id be setting up a bath for another human.' in a few quick teleports you we're in your tub surrounded by bubbles and a sweet smell of your soap. Your eyelashes fluttered from the water and vivid sight of the demon. "Tsk. Do all summoners have such a messy living room?" "S-sorry..Does that mean i get my wish now?" the demon wiped a lather of soap on your chest while admiring the size of your breasts. "Your still obsessed over that? Hmm..." "I-it is your job as a demon isnt it? To grant wishes. Or at least for you-" he smirked at your reply. "Clever arent you? Well..The situations changed since you've never specified what you wanted in this 'new life.' Your going to be my personal fu- pet. In exchange, I'll...Tag along with you. I want to see how strong the 'savior of teyvat' really is.."

In that moment you wanted to burry your head under the soapy water but all you did was let out a heavy sigh and sink Into the touch of him resting behind you, coating your skin in soap. Scara was right, the divine have cruel ways of playing tricks on its prisoners. But maybe..just maybe.. you we're both a blessing in disguise for each other.

THANK YOU FOR READING :)

[0547]

a/n: late bday special for childe, reader and him r still new in their relationship, im getting better at writing a bit…

a red velvet cupcake was sitting on your desk, with a single lit birthday candle poked into the cream cheese frosting.

before you could take a closer look at it, your office door bangs open and childe enters the room, practically prancing into your private office. you don’t even look at him as you lift the confectionery in the air, eyeing it closely.

“i sent you a birthday letter yesterday in advance.” you say, plopping down on your chair, peeling the cupcake cup. “—no need reminders for me to wish you.”

you take a bite of the sweet, setting it down aside and gather today’s fatui agent reports in your hands, waiting for childe to reply.

you do finally look up at him when he still doesn’t say anything, and realization hits when you meet his pleading, puppy-like eyes.

“please?” he tries, leaning close to your desk.

“no.”

-

“archons!” you screech, nearly missing a direct hit from the primo geovishap’s tail snap. of course, the ideal gift for your boyfriend’s birthday, spending quality time fighting a gigantic monster together.

“having fun, baby?” he giggles, striking a huge slash on one of the fat legs. you knew he was holding back for you, let’s be honest, he does primo geovishaps like normal people do hillchurls.

you hate that he thinks this all that you’re capable of, but since you wouldn’t ever agree to a one on one duel with him, this was the closest he could get to see you in combat. a genuine fascination from him you would never understand.

the beast roared in agony of it’s injuries, the sound echoing throughout the underground, causing a large sediment to fall right above where you were standing.

you looked up to see an arrow shooting through the solid earth, bursting the sediment into bits of rock and water before it can hit you. you catch childe’s eye, and you feel your heart swell, but your ears are starting to ring from the noise.

the harbinger laughs as you muster all your strength and threw your electro infused sword directly into the creature’s eye, bringing it crashing to the side in a thundering noise that made the ground shake.

you dust your hands and crouched, breathing heavily while keeping your eyes to the ground. childe’s arms were immediately around you, bringing your head close to his chest and kisses your forehead.

“you okay? was this too much? i’m sorry.” he entwines his fingers with yours, rubbing his calloused thumb against your gloved hand.

“this? literally piece of cake. hardly broke a sweat,” you lie, smiling up at him. “and happy birthday. now you know how weak i am.” you snort, kissing his cheek.

he frowns. “i don’t think you’re weak. that was pretty badass to me. you gave the final blow.” he says, looking up at the fallen monster.

logically speaking, he was a harbinger. he’s definitely seen battles more badass than your low stamina performance.

he looks down back at you, and squishes your face with one hand. “why are you pouting?”

you shake your head. “i’ll get stronger. i won’t waste this vision, i’ll train and work hard.” you say, determined.

“and then can we duel?” he asks hopefully.

“no.”

“c’mon!,” he whines. “can i at least help you train? think of it as this year’s birthday present.” he tries to get closer to your face, but you push his face away.

“you already used up your birthday wish this year.” you reminded him. and he pouts at you.

[reblog if you want, as it helps me plenty.]

[crzzybby]

I see WAY too much incest in the pro ship community and not enough kid / teen x older father figure. and when I do see it its always bland horny paragraphs about being groomed that you can clearly tell were typed with one hand and nutted halfway through, losing interest. I get it sister x sister or wtv.. but can we talk about strong emotional bonds and slow burns between a closed off angry traumatized boy and his older male parental figure.

my friends are like aayaylala! And I’m like bro…… can we talk about the like political and economic state of the world right now? 😐 (slash quote)

mention of fictional SA / Fluff between my OC x Captain Price ╰┈➤ ♡

I have an oc (who I also split as a fictive), who’s a 14-15 year old French soldier and was practically raised and abused in boot camp since he was 9 years old after his mother died. he was trained to act older than he was and bottle up his emotions, so he has an extreme fear of vulnerability. He was beaten and r*ped by his lieutenant, so he has scars and marks all over his body and hates showing them. He was transferred to the 141 (COD oc oopsi!) at 14 for his incredible skill, and simply the fact the lieutenant couldn’t harbor him at the camp for much longer, and wouldn’t talk or interact with anyone. he was quiet, stern and kept to himself. He’d talk back to his teammates and push them away. After several months of Price pushing and trying to get Pierre to open up he broke down sobbing in his arms while price cooed and reassured him

“there you go, kiddo.. I’ve got ya..” shushing and holding the back of his head while he buried his face in his chest, hitting him angrily as he sobbed but price made no effort to stop him, letting the poor boy use him as an outlet 🩷

IM EXPLAINING THIS VERY LAZILY I could talk about them for hours I’ve written so much

I love love love kid / teen x Father figure fluff please please please we need more of it

reblog and share your fluff. I’m desperate

[keirawantstocry]

Hi, Jay<3 could you do poly morning crew flirting in combat training please? You know, like being "in love with your carnage" trope kinda stuff

Hi tia do you know im in love with u and all ur ideas /p

-

Fit prioritized combat training over a lot. He had told them that it was instinct from 2b2t. The wasteland was the most dangerous place in the world and it always paid off to be prepared. At first those instincts had relaxed on the island but they were coming back full force as the dangers on the island grew. They needed to be prepared again, at their finest when it came to combat skills.

Which led them to then and now. Fit and Pac stood blade to blade in the middle of the beaten down earth with Tubbo watching carefully from the side. They sliced and parried, the diamond clashing of their swords echoing across the large clearing. Sweat trickled down both of their foreheads at the equal competition. 

“You’re strong,” Fit said in a quick breath, enjoying how Pac’s sweaty face flushed. 

“Shut up,” Pac snapped, bringing his sword up to meet Fit’s once again. 

“DON’T LET HIM FLIRT AND DISTRACT YOU,” Tubbo called from the sidelines. 

“HOW?” Pac shouted back while Fit laughed at the both of them. 

“Hey Fit!” Tubbo called, his hands up to his mouth. 

“Yeah?” Fit asked while he and Pac continued to circle around each other, looking for an entry to attack. 

“I like how you look all sweaty but I wish you looked like that while you were in my bed.” 

Fit stumbled over his feet at that statement, nearly falling and giving Pac a perfect opportunity to knock his sword out of his unstable hands and slash at his feet. To the ground he fell, knocking the wind out of his chest. The sky was bright blue above him and his face was surely bright red. Distantly he could hear both Pac and Tubbo laughing their asses off. 

“Shut the fuck up, you two.” 

Both of their faces appeared above him with matching grins and wide smug eyes. 

“Awww did I fluster you?” Tubbo teased. 

“No,” Fit lied. 

“Uh huh,” Pac said. “Sureeeee.”

“Sureeee,” Tubbo echoed. 

Fit lifted himself up onto his hands before rising to his feet. “Actually shut up."

[ofcowardiceandkings]

so in those [mumble mumble] years between BotW and TotK, the Zora replaced the weathered and unreadable monuments with new history writing by Sidon, and their contents have left me hmm emotionally compromised ??

i was gonna list em out in full but then i read them all and Sidon waffles so much bless him LOL

full transcripts below (+ the 11th monument in the Domain itself) expect Sidon being an adorable goof, Zora Deep Lore, waterbending, SO much gushing over Mipha and Link, Zelda being a sweetheart, and surprise Yona content !!!

just for clarity, i've highlighted the first word of each on-screen chunk of text ... i love Sidon so much but he's so verbose i kept missing the full log lol but im glad he went all in, its earnest, descriptive and poetic :') 💙 RIP the stonemasons ...

Learnings of the Zora, Part One The Waters of Zora's Domain As told by Prince Sidon

Long, long ago, right here in Lanayru, incredible transformations, both subtle and drastic in nature, shaped the land. The tall mountains birthed clouds, these clouds cried tears of rain, and this rain filled our deep valleys past the brim. In time, this overflowing water became the Zora River, which bred waterfalls that fell and nourished the vast Lanayru Wetlands. Perhaps it was inevitable that my Zora ancestors, who wandered in search of precious water, would finally settle here. The mountains of Lanayru are blessed with high-quality stone. The structures built from said stone are solid yet refined. Just like the Zora and our domain, our buildings exist in harmony with the water. It is a beautiful symbol of our way of life. If you go to the edge of the domain, close your eyes, and listen closely ... you shall be greeted by the gentle sound of water. This kind, soothing sound is a testament to the happy life the Zora are so grateful to have found here. As one born of royal Zora blood, my duty is as clear as it is unshakeable. I, Sidon, swear here and now ... I shall protect our home with my very life, that the gentle sound of water may never cease in our beloved domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Two The Legend of Ruto, Our Great Ancestor As told by Prince Sidon

It is written that long ago there was a strong-willed Zora princess who was as meandering as a winding river. This princess, who was dearly loved by her fellow Zora, was noble as she was innocent. Her name was Ruto. One day, a powerful and wicked man tried to take over Hyrule and brought great ruin to the once-peaceful Zora's Domain. Our tales speak of falled Zora soldiers drifting down the river as it sadly reflected the chaotic retreat of the terrified Zora. Princess Ruto bravely fought back her tears and she bore witness to the tragic misery unfolding in the domain. Even amid her heartbreak, the Zora princess did all she coult to help the weak and elderly escape. Next she swam against the river's current and climbed the mighty waterfall to challenge her foe. The details of this fight have fallen victim to the haze of time. Few details remain. Still, it is said she was aided by the princess of Hyrule and the hero of legend, and together they saved Hyrule. So the legend goes. I, Sidon, prince of the Zoram cannot help but ponder these events as I listen to the Zora children play in all their innocence. As Princess Ruta's descendant, it is my fate to carry the torch of her brave acts into tomorrow and beyond. I shall not fail.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Three The Great King Dorephan As told by Prince Sidon

Several springs after I lost my dear sister, Mipha, a large group of Lizalfos attacked the domain. It mattered not that this was my first true battle. The expectations of those around me weighed heavy on my shoulders. The absence of Mipha, who had always been there to encourage me with loving kindness, was like a spear to my heart. As for my own spear, though I was highly trained for its use, it seemed to only cut the air and slash the water's surface. I was taken off guard by a surprise attach from three Lizalfos hiding at the water's edge, each with their blade fixed on me. I knew that my time had come ... and that is when the three Lizalfos disappeared, as quickly as they had arrived. In their place, I saw the towering figure of my father, the great King Dorephan, who had just bested my foes with ease. "Sidon, my son," he said firmly. "You allwed your heart to falter. That is the quickest way to fall on the battlefield." His words cut deep, but as I stood on the brink of dispair, a familiar gently encouraged me. "Your king needs you." Many soldiers later attested they were certain they had also heard the sweet voice of Mipha on that day. From then on, my heart was true and my resolve firm. By lending strength to our king, we were able to save the domain.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Four Two Sisters of Different Blood As told by Prince Sidon

When I was young, I had an irrational fear of strangers. I was particularly bashful around Yona. Paralyzed, even. She was already so mature in manner, and she treated me like a little brother, even though we were not related. There came an unseasonably heavy rain that quickly flooded the river. Us children, who were playing there, were swept away. I was battered by the water's strong flow, my fins helpless to resist. It was Yona who dragged me to the safety of the shore. The water continued to swell as the shore waned, but Yona was unflappable, sweetly comforting me as I shivered in fear. It was Mipha, my dear sister, who finally showed up to rescue us with other Zora adults in tow. I still remember Yona's face as she gazed up at Mipha in admiration. My face must have looked the same as I gazed at Yona. As a child, I had two big sisters. One by birth and one by chance. Yona looked up to Mipha, and I was in awe of them both. Before I knew it, years had passed, and my feelings for Yona became more difficult to quantify. Then, one day ... My father informed me that the amazing young woman who had once been a like a sister to me was to be my bride. Perhaps these feelings and memories are too dear and private to commit to history, but such is the tale of this Zora prince.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Five The Zora Armor She Left Behind As told by Prince Sidon

For some time after I lost my beloved sister, even in the light shining on the water seemed dark and dreary to my eyes. But as they say, time heals all wounds, no matter how deep. I can now speak of her with a smile, as is only fitting. I shall now tell the tale of the Zora armor that my sister crafted for her future husband, as per our ancient custom. One dark day, the domain was in great peril, and I sought help from a traveling Hylian to save our home. He was sparing with his words, yet I trusted him at once. As fate would have it, he was a childhood friend of Mipha's. My father, King Dorephan, troubled by the domain's suffering, requested his help. The swordsman agreed without hesitation. Father bequeathed my sister's Zora armor to this courageous soul, along with her hopes for the safety of the domain. The armor fit Link perfectly - so perfectly that councilman Muzu, who then harbored a hatred of Hylians, could not object. My sister had already left this world, and with her went the dearly held intentions that she had instilled within that special armor. Yet, with Link's help, she shined a light on the Zora in our hour of need, reaching between worlds with gentle fingertips.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Beginning As told by Prince Sidon

There was once a terrifying monster on Ploymus Mountain, loosing shock arrows on all who dared to cross its path. It was of utmost importance to drive the beast away, but as the Zora are weak to electricity, our efforts were futile. That is when a lone Hylian arrived at the domain. This swordsman who was sparing with his words ... his name was Link. Unlike us Zora, he was immune to shocks! Well perhaps that is an exaggeration, but one thing is certain. He was very brave. After careful preparation, he ascended Ploymus Mountain and defeated the foul beast all by himself. As if in celebration of newfound peace, clean water mysteriously began flowing at the top of Ploymus Mountain. That is when many Zora, if not most, voiced support for building a place that all could enjoy in that formerly frightful spot. Yet the many tree roots and stones made this task tricky, leading to a focus on the no-less-difficult matter of the name. "Zora Park" was too obvious. "Ploymus Park" only conjured images of the former terrors found there. When I candidly asked whether we should focus on the hard work at hand rather than the name, they all turned my way. "Prince Sidon," they asked. "Surely you must have a good suggestion?" To that, I fell silent, and stayed so for a long while. I shall write the conclusion of this story on another monument.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Six The Story of Mipha Court: The Conclusion As told by Prince Sidon

The first half of this tale can be found on another stone monument. If it is not too much trouble, I advise reading that first. I now present the conclusion. When posed with the task of naming this storied location, I, Prince Sidon, fell silent. After a time, I timidly proposed the one and only name that came to mind for this place of newfound peace. I suggested that we name it after my beloved sister who had long been lost to us ... Mipha Court. I worried they would think I was unfairly favoring my own family's legacy by naming it after my kin. A hush fell over the group. After a time, one of the stonemasons raised his voice in agreement. More voices joined his, one after another. The idea was embraced whlly, and the craftsmen all returned to their work. Though the work was grueling, from then until the completion of Mipha Court, the air was filled with laughter and singing. This incident drove home to my very core how much everyone loved my sister. I hope one day to inspire such admiration. If there is ever to be a Sidon Court, I must work tirelessly to earn that honor.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Seven The Prince and the Swordsman As told by Prince Sidon

The rain always stops ... except when it does not. This humourous saying was once repeated with a soft chuckle around here. Then, one day, heavy rain started falling in the domain, and no matter how many days passed it did not cease. Although the Zora are a water-dwelling sort, we came to miss the warmth of the sun and dry winds upon our backs. Alas, as fervent as our desire was, we had no means of stopping the cause of this unprecedented disaster. When all had given up hope, I, Sidon, took it upon myself to invite a Hylian to the domain. This young swordsman of few words was named Link. I trusted him at once, sensing great devotion in his kind eyes. It was immediately clear that my instincts were correct. Thanks to Link, we were able to face the thread head on. Our battle with the source of the disaster was intense by my newfound friend and I refused to yield until we finally triumphed. Sometimes, writen words flow so much more readily than those spoken ... Link, my dearest friend, you are an unparalleled swordsman, and I admire you so very much. He may lack fins and gills, but it matters not. This hero among heroes exudes magnificence tempered with steadiness. Though we are different, our hearts both yearn to serve a higher calling. I learned much from him, and I am eternally grateful. As I recall my best friend, it occurs to me that though the rains have ceased, perhaps a true adventure never does.

Learnings of the Zora, Part Eight The Princess of Hyrule As told by Prince Sidon

One that despicable disaster had ceased to plague Zora's Domain, a distinguished yet humble lady paid us a visit. This young woman who appeared with Link at her side was none other than Princess Zelda of the royal family of Hyrule. "I beg forgiveness," she said earnestly. "Because of the royal family, Princess Mipha ..." She paused, unable to continue. Small, silent teardrops tumbled down her cheek and hit the floor, one after another, each saying a thousand unspaken words. She gently wiped her eyes and lifted her gaze to meet the king's, speaking kind words of gratitude for Mipha's sacrifice. We knew well that what had transpired was the result of a decision shared by the Zora and by Princess Mipha herself. There was no need for the princess of Hyrule's apology, and even less so for her sorrow. King Dorephan, along with the rest of the Zora, were moved by the depth of Princess Zelda's sincerity. She had held that unthinkable disaster at bay for nearly 100 years with nothing more than the sheer force of her own will. Yet she was not prideful. She dutifully set to work, traveling across Hyrule to secure cooperation for the kingdom's restoration. She was adored by all, yet so humble. She possessed an inner strength, but now I am not so certain. I feel a strong calling one day to acquire this same sort of strength within myself.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote One The Solid Water and the Fluid Spear As told by Prince Sidon

The Zora are not associated with water because of our dwelling place alone. We each also, to varying extents, possess the ability to actually manipulate water. We use this gift for many purposes. We use it to swim faster, to achieve mighty leaps from the waves below, to gather fish, and so much more. For me, the true awakening of this ability that many of my childhood chums already possessed came upon me quite suddenly. One day as I was training at Veiled Falls, the rain slickened my grasp, causing me to drop my spear. I reached to grab it, but it was already too far away. Soon it would fall to the bottom of the cliff, never to be seen again. I knew that I must take old of it, and at that moment, droplets created a stream extending from my outstretched hand. The water stream twisted and turned until it finally took hold of my falling spear and deftly returned it to my grasp. In that moment, the water was solid and my spear fluid. This sensation forever changed my approach to spearplay. I was reminded of how my sister, Mipha, described it ... and everything clicked. Water and spear became as one. Gaining yet another layer of admiration for my dear sister, I devoted myself to my spear training from then on.

Learnings of the Zora, Anecdote Two The Great Task Entrusted to Me As told by Prince Sidon

I, Sidon, was entrusted with the great task of renovating the Zora stone monuments that had fallen to ruin. There are 11 stone monuments total find in and around Zora's Domain, including the one you are now reading. The former text written by my father, King Dorephan, could not be salvaged, and so sadly it had to be replaced. Despite my royal blood, whispers abound that it is improper for someone my age to write over the king's glorious words. Ah, but do they not realize that it was King Dorephan himself who ordered me to undertake this restoration project? Father says it is not set in stone that I shall be the one to inherit the throne, as it is not a matter of blood alone. If we ask the eternal skies above whether I am fit to rule, they shall remain silent, and so we must look to our fellow Zora. He urged me to use these monuments to share my learnings and speak to our people straight from my heart. Father is older and wiser than I. His sage advice is a gift. As such, I have inscribed my thoughts upon these 11 stones. I do not know how far-reaching my words shall be, but it is my hope that they will reach whoever needs to hear them most. Until one of the descendants writes over my musings many years from now, I pray they resonate with whoever reads them.

WELL there we are, thanks for the history lesson Sidon you absolute sweetie fhjdkdjf i have thoughts and feelings and emotions but i wont make this post any longer than it already is but i love these characters byeeeEEE

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

I'm so sorry to hear you were in an accident im glad you are alive and feeling okay again <3<3

I'd love to send you a lotura prompt, hopefully it lifts your spirits to be back on that sweet ship.

How about Lotor and Allura talking about weapons? (i.e. Like how Allura prefers a staff and Lotors sword designs (like the one he was first shown with) )

Hey, good to hear from you and thanks for your super kind note!! I'm doing a little better each day and am excited to get back to regular routines! While I was on hold over the phone about paperwork today, I managed to exercise my brain with the prompt you gave me! <3

Staff vs. Sword

Emperor Lotor leans against a wall, crossing his arms and quirking a slim, white eyebrow at the princess before him. “Surely, you jest with me,” he murmurs. “A staff again?”

Princess Allura beams, and she grabs her favorite staff from the blunted practice weapons with a solid grip, fingers tight. With a quick flick of her wrist, she spins it and sets the end solidly on the ground. “My bayard for Blue Lion also turns into a whip,” she says nonchalantly, “but that seems entirely unfair to use against you, as it produces an electric shock.”

“Ah, yes.” His eyes crinkle, his slit pupils dilating with softness. He adds dryly, “Because we do not already create enough sparks on the courts.”

She brushes back her long, thick braid and waggles her eyebrows. “You said it, not me.” And then she pokes his chest plate with the end of her staff. “Do tell me you’re not afraid of a second round after I defeated you.”

“And nearly caused an intergalactic incident,” he says, voice halted. “The training grounds are intended for practicing the art of combat—not the art of catching one’s opponent off-guard with a kiss.”  

With a giggle, Allura pulls the staff back, her Altean markings glowing a bright pink. “Yes, well, we Alteans have a saying that all’s fair in love and war. Now, pick your weapon, dear emperor, so that I may defeat you once more. And do choose something other than a sword this time—at least mix it up for me?”

Lotor eyes her before grabbing a blunted sword from the wall, inspecting its balance. His long fingers grip the hilt tightly. “A sword is the best extension of a warrior’s will,” he declares, raising his chin with a petulant chin. “It is simple. It is efficient. It is my favorite weapon.”

Allura sighs dramatically at him. “It does not have quite the—” she waves her hand—“the impact of a staff, though.”

He raises the silver sword to her. “The staff is an impact weapon,” he says dryly. “You simply seek to showcase your Altean strength to the Galra who prowl these courts, and that is why you prefer it as of late."

“Tish tosh,” she says, planting her feet properly on the training mat and eyeing him with an increased wariness. She knows Lotor likes to strike unexpectedly. “I also happen to like the way training robots crumple to bits beneath a staff. It relieves the stress I feel after a large conference with intergalactic leaders.”

A tick of silence stretches between them.

And then in a blur, Lotor races toward her, slashing down.

She blocks with the staff and swings, and he ducks smoothly before stepping back, flipping the sword in his hand.

He paces the mat, the overhead lights capturing the glow of his eyes like a predator in the dark wilderness. “Poor Princess Allura,” he teases. “All the power in the universe, and yet you fear the peace we have wrought together, instead longing for means of violence. Are you certain you are not of Galran blood somewhere in that long ancestry of yours?”

Alura’s voice strains as she circles him as well, resetting her staff. “I can’t think of a single species that doesn’t enjoy a rough tumble now and again, in a safe, non-war environment. Why, the humans even have something called, um—” Her concentration breaks as she pauses, snapping her fingers. “Um, wrestling. And something called rugby. And then they have a very large, worldwide competition for their various violent sports, called the Olympics.”

Lotor pauses.

His slit pupils widen in curiosity of other cultures. “Olympics? Is that similar to a Kral Zera?”

“Somewhat,” she nods, “but instead of choosing a world leader by, um, killing everyone, these tournaments are for medals that they wear around their necks and then bite in front of cameras. And no one dies generally.”

He lunges again, and in a blur, wrenches the staff away from her hands and presses her up against a wall.

Allura squeaks, eyes wide.

His nose is inches from her own, his breath a hot puff against her face. “How very curious.”  

Her breath stalls as her cheeks heat hard enough to radiate to him. “Um, y-yes.”

Lotor’s wide mouth splits as he whispers against her mouth, “Fortunately for you, princess, I’ve no intent to fight you truly, or you would already be dead with your silly staff. And if it were these Olympics, you would have no medal to bite.”

Face flushed, her eyes narrow to slits, and before Lotor can avoid it, she hooks her ankle against his and unbalances him. Surprised claws protract from his hands, gripping into her practice armor and his eyes widen.

And the two royals fall in a pile of limbs upon the mat, with Allura sprawled on top of a stunned Lotor, his sword clattering to the mat beside them.  

“Oh, no,” she says with a triumphant giggle, hands planted over his chest plate. Her curly flyaways are an angelic halo around her face. “You lowered your weapon but did not fully secure me, so I still win.”

Lotor grumps beneath her, his lavender cheeks flushing as he grips her forearms.

And despite Galra leadership watching the courts and murmuring with gossip in the far distance, Lotor softens. His rough, calloused thumbs stroke a pink marking along her bare forearm. “Best two out of three, then? I promise to secure you fully next time and cause another scandal for it.”

Allura leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Very well, Emperor Lotor. You’re on.”

[trendywaifus]

hello there! Nice seeing you post again— been following you since your first Kny’s posts and I love your writing style! Since we’re under the HSR train, can I request reader who is part of the express and like March and Stelle are very protective of them because they’re really weak due to a past injury? And Then they tell the Characters that one day they’ll find the strength to be able to fight for themselves soon? Heurhuryeue that’d just be cool, only if you wanna tho!! Thank you!!!! Have a bread day

omg!! rlly?? eeeeeeeeee, its so nice to see long time followers! its been like. .5 or 4 years since i made this blog? wow time goes by fast, im really happy that you’re still here! i hope you’ve been growing as a person without much struggle as time passed!

“ march! “ you swatted her prying hand away and adjusted the crutch to your side. “ for the last time, i can get up and walk myself, can’t you see i have this crutch to support me? “ taken aback by you swatting her hand and your warning glare, her expression saddens. you were injured from the encounter with the doomsday beast. march made a mistake she wish she could take back. during the doomsday beast encounter, she gotten cocky; biting more than she can chew and recklessly attacked the beast with barrage of arrows while staying in one spot. at that moment, one of its hands quickly appeared in front of her, ready to strike. luckily, you managed to push her out of the way at the cost of your side getting clawed and a fractured leg.

march’s stomach churns at the horrible memory. what stuck to her mind was the look of horror written on your face as the creature’s large claw nearly dug itself into your side as you clumsily dodged backwards. you nearly screamed as you landed in a bad position and danheng had to escort you far away from the fight as far as he could. she swallows hard, digging her nails into her palm, enough to engrave crescents into her skin.“ i know that, but still! i want to support you too. i-i was the one who made you like this! if i had buffed you with defense, i- “

“ march 7th. “ your partner shakes her head stubbornly, tears in her eyes. “ you don’t understand, seeing you back there—seeing you in pain like that— haunts me! i can’t pretend to be all happy and joyful when you’re not even with me on adventures! i know that i’m ignorant to many things that i shouldn’t be ignorant to. but. . i don’t want to be insensitive to your struggles either that’s why i been so protective.”

you sighed deeply, dropping your gaze to the floor. unusual silence fills the atmosphere of your cabin while you fully process march’s confession. you were wrong for being annoyed at her protectiveness. things could of been much worse and you could only imagine how’d she think of herself then. march takes your hand in hers, your eyes immediately reverts back to hers, gaze softening around the edges. her lips curled into an apologetic sad smile, she looks at you with pleading eyes.

“ months from now march. .” you cast her a tight—lipped smile, “ me, you, stelle, and danheng will all be together running around making memories in some random planet. i’ll be able to do things for myself fully again so don’t you worry, you reckless girl.”without any protest, you let her throw her arms around your shoulders to embrace you.

“ i’ll do better next time, i swear on it (name)!“

“ i know that i don’t miraculously come back alive after i die like you but you’re watching me as if i’ll just suddenly fall over and perish. “ you remark, striking the wooden dummy with a wooden sword. you were careful not to swing too fluidly because of the stitches on your abdomen. you’d rather not reopen them and bleed out on the spot. “ danheng said that you’re not suppose to be training while you have stitches in. “

you scoffed, “ alright? well i am, now what? i’m not in much pain anymore and i just have to reduce my movement in my slashes. danheng’s a snitch for telling you that i’m here. you know what they say stelle, snitches get sti—fuck! “ a momentary sharp sensation shoots in your wound area and you crumble to your knees. stelle is by your side, her countenance contorted in disappointment. her gloved hand rests on the small of your back and the other on your knee. “ i-i’m okay, this normally happens after a few weeks of having stitches. pretty fun experience time to time. it’ll be completely painless sooner or later. “ you comment, mustering a shaky smile.

“ i think danheng is right and i don’t like seeing you like this. “ stelle frowns. you sighed in relief at the sensation going away and lifted yourself from the floor, stelle follows suit. “ then leave, stelle. you don’t have to be here. “ you shrugged her off and repositioned yourself into sword stance. she blocks you from the dummy, giving you a pointed look. “ don’t look at me like that. unless you want to be my training partner, i want you to step aside. “ you commanded, glaring at your stubborn girlfriend.

she shakes her head, a mocking smile erasing the frown from her lips. “ i don’t want to so now what?”you roll your eyes, she continues, placing her hands on her hips playfully, “ i don’t think you have the strength yet to defeat the likes of me, foolish mortal.“

“ oh no! you’re right! “ you gasped, dropping your sword dramatically, “ i wonder how i can defeat you! oh, i know how. “ before she can react, you pulled her in by the hoodie and smashed your lips against hers for a brief moment then pulled away. stelle looks absolutely dumbfounded, her jaw slightly ajar at the surprise kiss. you smirked, “ i don’t even need my full strength to defeat you and when i do, i’ll do a lot more than this. “

[arcielee]

Farewell Wanterlust

Warnings:  Sexism because it it the 9th century, tw: noncon, sexual assault mentioned, violent actions and torture describe. MDNI, 18+ Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 4107 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior.      Author’s Note: This will be a hybrid of the books and TLK show. The timelines will be adjusted for the plot and the names will match the Old English/9th Century. Please be mindful of chapter warnings as this shit will have dark moments and mature themes.     Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika​ ♥ Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires @httpsdoll @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek​ @heavenly1927​ @greenowlfactif​ (bold for those I could not tag, but requested!) 

 Chapter 2

It had been ten days since the brothers, Erik and Sigefried, besieged Lunden. 

The city fell easily, which was something Keavy knew was inevitable from the mumbled worries of his lordship Æthelstan, something that he shared between her and his mug of ale. Though he had been baptized, she still saw the Dane that thrummed beneath the flesh and how it vibrated with that instilled knowledge, haunting him late at night to know that despite the structured wall that surrounded them, they did not have the manpower to keep it properly guarded. 

Keavy had been sent to Lunden after her refusal to join the nunnery in an official capacity. She was well aware of the weight of her decision, how it would uproot her, but the abbess did not fault Keavy for her choice; she knew this from the soft touch of her hand to her cheek that was not damaged, her simple gesture of understanding before she left Ebchester. 

She had grown into a strong-willed woman, both bright and vivacious. In all accounts, she was lovely as her mam claimed: she possessed womanly curves that pressed the seams of her simple frocks, with a milky white complexion and dark ringlets that billowed with her every determined step. 

Though Saxon men admired these physical traits, they all were overlooked the second their eyes fell to the parting gift from her mam. Her scar had healed dark, with blood red markings from the crude sutures that knitted the flesh together; it curled below her chin and stretched back towards her ear, with a second slash into her cheek downwards to her jaw bone. 

She was aware she was a gift for the baptism of Æthelstan of East Anglia but did not mind him; she was pleased to learn how he almost pitied her, which in turn allowed her a freedom within the city limits. He had noted right away how the Saxon men would be quick to look away with the superstitious whispers that she was a witch, some with a visible shudder, and were quick to disregard of her existence; he understood the blemish would allow her to be overlooked and she served as a set of eyes and ears amongst the cityfolk. 

Keavy ignored it all, their reactions, readily accepting her role and requesting to be trained alongside his men, so she could properly handle a sword. And he allowed it. 

It was a freedom she now mourned as she found herself pinned under the dark gaze of Sigefried these last ten days. 

The Danes had come under the cover of night and she awoke to the screams that rolled from the shores, echoing in the stone halls of the manor. She moved from the bed, throwing on her frock and cloak, grabbing her dagger and tucking the silver Celtic cross beneath her neckline. Keavy moved quickly from the castle, hiding in the shadows of the city as she made for her escape. 

She had come across a guardsmen, a young man she recognized from training in the courtyards, and he reached to take her hand. They moved together, quick and quiet amongst the bloodshed, slipping into an alleyway of cobblestone where they found a lone Dane taking a piss. 

The lad pushed her backwards, perhaps with a gallant effort to defend her but instead he was killed quickly. This distraction allowed her to draw her own blade and plunge it into the softness underneath the Dane’s jaw, far enough to gut his tongue so he could not scream. 

As she watched the blood seep between the stones, she thought back to the night when the slavers came and she knew from the haunting echo of slain screams that Lunden was lost. She wiped and sheathed her dagger, removing the silver cross, and wrapped both in her blood stained cloak. Keavy then picked up the sword and used it to lift some of the stones, burying it beneath, then dipping her fingers into the fresh blood that pooled and marking the stones.

She swore that she would survive this as well, that she would return for it, but if not, let it remain buried rather than be taken. 

Once she finished, a looming figure stepped to block her path. His face was shadowed and closer she saw his pupils were blown, which made his eyes as black as the night. He looked past her. “Did you kill them?” His tone gravely, and he said it with a smile that reached his eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. “You have killed one of my men so I ask how will you repay for this loss?” 

Her arms trembled with her grip on the sword, her fear rooted her stance but wavered under his dark eyes.  “I am not afraid to die tonight, Dane,” she spat back at him, but her bold tone cracked and betrayed her. 

His laugh was deep and reverberated around her. “I can see this,” and he was quick to close the space between them, knocking the steel from her grasp. It clamored to the stone and she felt his hot breath on her face. “You are not Saxon,” his larged palm grabbed her face and she felt the burn of her scar from his hold. “Do they teach their women across the Irish sea to fight?” 

She would not answer him, but she also did not look away. He only chuckled, his hand moving to grab a handful of her curls and pulling her as he made his way back towards the castle. Keavy grit her teeth, struggling to keep with his steps and ignoring the cheers from the Danes they passed as he took her to one of the rooms. 

Her fear now settled into her core, but she would not give the satisfaction of screaming as she knew still that no one would come for her. Lunden now belonged to the Danes and she knew her mam never considered that the marr given would not be a deterrent for their heathen cocks. 

It was fortunate and unfortunate how Sigefried seemed entertained by her stubbornness, her refusal to seek his favor and, in return, he would try and frighten her, to see the cracks in her practiced stoic mask. “When my cock tires of her, I will hump her with my good hand,” she once heard him say to his brother, the blonde Dane named Erik, and they laughed as he lifted his knifed arm.

Keavy just watched him with her steeled gaze, ignoring how her fear shuddered the length of her spine. I am cursed, she thought. Whatever faith the abbess tried to behest from the days spent in Ebchester died in the bed she was forced to share with the Dane. 

Each day dragged with her pettied struggle to remain alive. The Danes seemed insatiable in every sense, but she made sure to serve and refill their cups as the ale, which allowed her to slip from his grasp some nights, but the following day he would return his attention to her with a hungover vengeance. 

On the tenth day, she remained in the shadows of the courtyard, watching as the Danes nailed men to crosses. They were priests sent from Æthelstan to negotiate and the brothers treated them as sport. 

She watched, stone faced and her heart heavy, trying her best to block out their screams. Just the prior night she had been tasked to feed them and she managed to slip them apples from the orchid and hard cheeses along with the bread rationed for them. They begged her to free them but one had been quick to shush the men. 

“Do not risk their fury,” he warned her. His head was shaved, his beard haggard and his expression severe on his already hardened face; he made sure to thank her for the fresh fruit before she left them. 

Now she watched these same men with her solemn expression as they were nailed to the wood, the screams echoing throughout the courtyard. Keavy felt the eyes of Sigefried on her and he beckoned her closer; her steps felt heavy as she brought herself to stand behind and between him and his brother. 

“I still do not understand how this kills a man,” Sigefried casually commented, unaffected by their tortured cries. 

His brother shifted his weight, his unease more apparent. “Sigefried, take his head and be done with it,” and there was the hint of him pleading. 

“A cross kills a man slowly, lord, over days,” and their attention turned towards the same priest that spoke to her last night. In the sunlight, she saw the dirt on his face and the dark circles that framed his dark eyes. “It is both torture and execution.” 

“There,” his brother clasped his hand onto his shoulder. “You have your answer. Now take his head and be done with it.” 

And Keavy could no longer hear their exchange, her focus now fastened onto the men that walked towards them; her eyes watched the one who led them, his presence perking the interest of one of the heavier Danes that stood off to the side. 

“Uhtred Ragnarsson,” he announced. 

His very name breathed fire into her chest, a renewed flame for hope. 

Uhtred of Bebbanburg. 

Her mind returned to the stories that Lady Gisela had shared, how she swore of his honorable spirit. Keavy watched him like a beacon presented for her freedom. “Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” her voice rasped to interrupt and the eyes of the men fell to her, stopping the exchange they were having. “My lord, I know your lady wife.”

She saw that her words caught his attention and she burned under his hard stare, but before she could continue, she felt the backhand of Sigefriend catch her across her mouth. Her knees buckled and she fell back into the dirt, the taste of iron in her mouth, but she did not let it falter her words. “I owe her a debt, lord.”

As she prayed that the words would hold weight and take root, Uhtred peered at Sigefried. “Who is she to you?”

From behind, she saw the tension in his shoulders, but his response was nonchalant. “Just some Irish whore we found here,” his tone was sly with his following implication and it made her stomach curdle with disgust, “I have been having my fun with this one.” 

Her jaw steeled, another crack in her mask, and she could feel how she trembled from his words with a white fury that burned within. 

Uhtred paid her no mind, his focus remaining on Sigefried. “She seems irksome to you, but perhaps she would serve my wife better, to repay this debt owed,” a smirk played on his lips. “You claim bygones today and my family grows. The extra hands can be of better use than to play with your cock.” 

She burned, but she heard the dark chuckle of Sigefried. “She may frighten your children,” and he gestured to his jaw with cruel humor. 

“They have strong stomachs,” another voice spoke and her heart lifted with the familiar lilt of his diction. 

Keavy did not dare lift her eyes from the boots of the men that spoke of her like she was not present. Her chest tightened with her struggle to steady her breath and the silence rolled over them with a palpable tensity that stricken her bones. 

“Of course,” Siegfried began, his words were slow and heavy with venom. “As a gesture of goodwill.” 

For the second time in her life, she found her worth being bartered and then a large palm reached to grab her shoulder, shoving her forward. Keavy fell in front of them, catching herself on her hands and knees, and they burned from the impact. 

“Osferth,” and she looked up to see Uhtred watching her. “Take her to the docks and wait for us there.” 

“Yes, lord,” and a shadow stretched over her. She felt a hold that held no maliciousness, no ill intent, just the gentle touch that belonged to the man called Osferth. His slender fingers wrapped above her elbow and he helped her to her feet; she saw how he towered over her, how his eyes bore into her own.

His features, his jawline were sharp but she saw a kindness, a softness to the expression he held; it complemented his eyes, a color that reminded her of the spring days at Ebchester, when the sky was without a cloud to blemish the brilliant blue. 

Osferth began to pull her away from the crowd of men who now called for food and drink, and she followed him, her mind vibrating with the realization that she would soon be gone from this damned city. 

+ + + +

There was something almost akin with how the Irishman instructed his swordsmanship that reminded Osferth of the days he spent with his uncle, years ago. Finan was not as tall as him, but he was sturdy, with a surliness that peaked beneath his dark beard and his dark brow that furrowed above his scrutinous gaze; Leofric had a hardness that had been embedded into his demeanor and would edge into his timbre, whereas Finan’s lilt brought a comfort to his critiques. 

“You have a pretty solid foundation, but your stance is a bit lazy,” Finan chewed on some straw, reaching forward to correct his posture. “But if I was a betting man, I would guess you wouldn’t be killed right away.” 

They remained in Wessex for several days, indulging in the celebration with an insatiable want of women and ale. Sihtric remained knitted at the side of the same woman with auburn hair, while the rest were seated around a table, their cups overflowing and spilling into the wood as they crowed when they learned of Osferth and his virginity. 

He argued his time spent at the monastery hardly allowed women to flow through, but Finan would not hear of it. “There are things in life you must allow yourself, an almost right of passage for any man,” and it was the first time he noted a genuine grin beneath his beard. Finan grabbed the pitcher to refill his cup and Osferth took a grimaced sip, the taste bitter and burned down his throat. “Don’t worry, baby monk, you will learn to love it.” 

Uhtred offered insight about quality over quantity and Finan guffawed in his mug. He continued on about his wife, how when he saw her, he just knew. “With ale, you must accept whatever has been poured into your cup,” Uhtred swirled whatever liquor remained in his mug, “but a good woman is something you must be able to decipher and then cherish.” 

Osferth watched the hue of pink that washed over his cheeks, whether from his thoughts of his lady wife in Coccham or perhaps the ale. “How did you know, lord?” His naivety pressed.

Uhtred smiled at him, bringing his fist to thump against his chest. “It is in here, it is something that tells you.” 

Osferth remembered that moment when they were in the courtyard at Lunden, when he first saw her. 

They had left Wessex on horseback towards the shores of the Temes; Mercian lords had accompanied them and the boats were a reprieve from their ceaseless, loud complaints. They followed the river to the docks of Lunden that bustled with merchants, who seemed unaffected by the siege. 

They followed behind Clapa, who led a wide berth with his large steps as people parted to allow him to pass, and they pushed until they came to the courtyard, halted by the body crudely displayed upright on a cross. Their unease shuddered off when Finan spoke with certainty, “Tis’ a death, nothing more.”

Osferth found that the vulgar show of sacrilege vested a response instilled from his days at the monastery and he crossed himself, his dirty blonde locks spilling forward when he bowed his head for a quick, silent prayer for the dead man. 

The sun poured into the courtyard ahead and Danes were staggered around with a half-interest in the grotesque crucifixion demanded. The attention turned onto them and Osferth found himself fixated the moment he saw her, how still she stood in the Dane brothers’ shadows. 

There was a severity in her green eyes as she looked them over and they brightened with a familiarity, something that flickered across her pale features. She wet her pink lips before she dared speak out loud, claiming their attention as well as the backhand from the dark haired brother. Her knees buckled and she fell back, her lips now red with blood, her eyes burning. 

“Don’t do it, baby monk,” Finan growled, low, and he felt the touch of his hand to his stomach. Osferth realized his fists were clenched. “I see your eyes have not left her–let him handle it.”

Though the words did not ease his rigid stance, he remained rooted at the Irishman’s side, his eyes watchful. Osferth thought back of his last day at the monastery, the warm meal prepared for him and the comfort of the bed he had slept in for the prior eighteen years. The abbot had approached him to ask if he truly wished to leave this humble life behind and he had answered earnestly that he had to go. There was a pull from the echo of his uncle’s words that regaled Uhtred of Bebbanburg, how he was an honorable man, how he was a fair man, and this was what propelled his steps to leave this life behind. 

Destiny is all. 

And in the courtyard, he saw the personification of his uncle’s words with how Uhtred bartered with Sigefried to hand over this woman, with her eyes that burned. 

The Dane had shoved her forward and Osferth moved outside his volition towards her, breaking away from Finan and with the covered command from Uhtred to take her to the docks, a way to conceal his unprecedented action. Osferth helped her stand, pulling her away from the courtyard and the heathens that filled it. 

His steps were not hurried, but his long legs made for a long gait as he moved to exit the city, his hold on her hand keeping her in the wake of his steps as he pushed through the crowds. 

“Please, priest,” he heard her say and he peered over his shoulder, slowing his steps and watching her as she looked over the buildings they passed, her eyes almost frantic. “Please, before we leave, I must take what belongs to me.” 

Osferth stopped and turned to face her, his chin tilted down to look at her. He watched the rose coloring dust her fair cheeks and the tip of her nose, how the pink clashed with the scar that lined her cheek and jawline. His eyes returned to her own and he only said, “I am not a priest.” 

She blinked then tried to correct herself. “Forgive me, monk–”

“I am not a monk, nor a holy man any longer,” he interrupted, his brow knitting over his eyes. “I am simply Osferth,” he added and he felt a warmth that bloomed in his chest from how she peered up at him through her dark lashes; he admired the bright green of her eyes with a halo of gold that burned around her pupil with her stare. 

She watched him for a moment before she reached to take his hand, her palm dry and cool against his own. He allowed her to lead until she made a noise of recognition, moving down an alleyway until they came to where blood had clearly been split, with markings that burned dark against the stonewall. 

Without a word, she dropped to her knees, her fingers desperate to pull up the stones before he unsheathed his sword and offered its leverage. She finally unearthed a dark piece of fabric, almost black with the mixed stain of blood and soil that broke off in chunks as she unraveled to reveal a silver, detailed cross and a dagger. 

She first slipped on the necklace, tucking the pendant beneath her neckline, and then her fingers trembled with its hold as she tried to fasten the belt around her wait. There was a moment he wished to reach forward to help her, but instead he let his hand fall back to his side. 

When she finished, she turned to face him with her face flushed; he saw blood was smeared across her chin and she wiped her hands on her skirt, her dark curls limply falling to in front of her face. Osferth felt that warmth cradling his heart, but said nothing and offered his hand to her. He was pleased how she took it without  hesitation, how well it fit within his own, and they made their way towards the docks. 

Once outside the gates of Lunden, he felt he was able to take a deep breath, though the waste thrown on the shores were still rancid. “Wait here, lady,” he said, his tone low and kind, and he went to find a bucket of cleaner water and rags. 

When he returned, she only said, “I am no lady.” She dampened the cloth to wipe away some of the blood and dirt, her pearly complexion showing through the streaks. “You may call me Keavy.” 

He nodded, his eyes still watchful as she cleaned away the grime; his gaze trailed the scarring again, a deep blood red for the new skin. “Was he…” he began and he gestured to his jaw, “was he the one who did this to you?” 

“It was from before,” she answered and he saw how her hands fidgeted with the cloth. “Osferth,” she spoke his name slowly and he liked how it rolled with her Irish lilt, “have you been in service to Uhtred of Bebbanburg for a while?”

He shook his head, a small smile to his lips. “No, lady, only a few days now.”

“Just Keavy,” she corrected him with the slight tilt of her head and he burned from the tensity of her green eyes. “Do you think he has sound judgment? Is he a fair man?”  

He noted the trepidation of her voice and the concern that lined her question. “From what I have seen and learned about him, he is very just,” and he paused a moment before he added, “I will say that he is a man that respects honesty and will give it in return.” 

Her lips pursed in response and she nodded with the soft movement of her curls.

Osferth wished to reach forward and pinch a tendril between his fingers, to find his tongue and press for more, but instead he heard Uhtred call to them; they both looked to see him and the men in tow, making their way towards the docks. They split to their respective boats and Osferth stepped in, turning to take her hand and help her as she made her way forward to sit on the behind the stempost, where Uhtred now held onto. 

They rowed out with the collective grunts with each pull; Osferth felt the burn between his shoulder blades as they made their way against the flow of the Temes. A silence settled over the men until they seemed far enough from Lunden before Uhtred asked: “What is the debt owed to my wife?” 

Osferth looked up, watching how her shoulders wilted and then squared with her breath. “She saved my life, lord.”

Uhtred looked back at her with an amusement that played across his face. “How did my wife save you?” he clarified. 

“By allowing me to use her name to escape the Danes that held Lunden,” she admitted and then allowed a shaky exhale. “I knew her from when she stayed in Ebchester, until you came for her,” she added with one breath. 

“Ebchester?” Finan called from behind, his tone light. “Did you ever confess to Beocca that you killed a holy man?”

The men chortled and Osferth felt a sly smile of his own that widened when Keavy turned around to watch their response. Her relief was apparent and there was a glow with her smile, the dimples on the left side of her face exaggerated by her scarring.

She is lovely still, came the intrusive thought to his mind. 

“He is aware,” Uhtred called out over their laughter. “And he understands why it was warranted!” Their laughter swelled over their boat alone, while the Mercians followed silently in their wake as they made their way back to Wintanceaster.

previous | Chapter 3 | masterlist

[liquidstar]

april fools is over so now im going to be slash srs instead of slash j. im going to post a little excerpt from one of the oc writing practices ive been doing :) again im not super experienced for a variety of reasons but im doing my best here.

but im going to try and put my self conciousness to the side (thats probably an important part of the practice too, right?) since this isnt final version either way, i can just say im sharing a WIP! so for now it will go the way of most of my other oc stuff..... under the cut

the only context you need is that this would be the opening scene for the story. if i post others i'll have to give more context bc most of them are taken from the middle of something. anyway here goes:

-----

“I love you

I've loved you since the beginning

From when you were only stardust

To when you will rejoin the stars

When everyone will be together again

Understand, you don’t simply live in the universe

You are part of it, taking on a form uniquely alive

You are the universe giving love back to itself

I love you so much”

“Wait!!!”

A lone girl jolts awake, crying a plea into the empty air. Tears stream down her cheeks, as she calls for someone she doesn't know. Her heart aches with a nameless yearning that fades with the memory of her dream. Still, against her will, the emotions linger. A profound sense of love consumes her, an agonizing, grieving love, meant for her. She sighs and wipes away her tears. It was an absurd dream, a ridiculous notion.

As her conscious mind clears, she takes in her surroundings; a forest drowned in the pale blue light of dawn. Her sleeping bag, now encased in dew, was laid on the cold grass. She sits for a while, gazing at the faint sliver of the rising sun’s glow with an indistinct expression, and eventually stands up.

The lone girl begins her daily routine by braiding her hair. With a wave of her hand, she freezes dew on a rock, creating herself a mirror. Her fingers carefully weave her brown locks into a braid, now adorned with a snowflake clip and a scarlet ribbon. She throws on a long blue half-skirt over her shorts, matching her shirt. She forces on a pair of black boots and cuffs on her arm. Lastly, she grabs a moon-themed spear, and she's ready for the day.

Before setting off, she made sure to pack all her belongings, including her numerous hand-drawn maps and a compass. However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, "Still no food."

She puts on the backpack and trudges forward anyway, ignoring the hunger pains as best she can. She hums to keep herself distracted.

As she walks, the trees tower above her, shrouding the horizon and taunting her. Birds occasionally fly into view, but seem to disappear in an instant. She wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her.

The lone girl scribbles on her maps, trying to record a labyrinth of identical tree trunks and twisted paths. This proves useless, as this elliptical forest has her going in circles. Exasperated, she fidgets with her compass, only to see the needle is frantically twitching around. She presses it gently to her forehead and quietly complains, “Don't tell me you're broken…”

Her train of thought was cut short by the sudden sound of running water, so loud she can’t fathom how she’s only now begun to hear it. She decided to put off one problem for another. Following the sound through some shrubs, she quickly finds the source.

Her spear at the ready, she approaches the stream. Scanning its depths for signs of fish, she walks cautiously. Her posture was awkward, her expression was uncertain, betraying her lack of experience. She held her spear to her chest with both arms as she encroached the water’s edge.

She inhales in preparation, removes her skirt and boots, and enters the water with slow, careful steps. The very surface of the stream begins to freeze as it makes contact with her skin. Tiny, thin crystals of ice form as she steps further in. Breathing deeper, as she tries to control the frost, she makes her way to the center of the stream. She stands waiting for fish.

Rather than throwing her spear to hunt, like the intended purpose, she stabs at the water. She’s not good at this, however, and only ends up scaring other potential prey away. She makes several attempts at this but is unsuccessful each time. Refusing to quit, her repeated strikes become more desperate and uncoordinated with each failure. Her growing frustration only makes the water freeze deeper, eventually solidifying around her legs. She yelps, now in a panic, and begins to frantically stab at the ice to free herself.

A mess.

Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing. It probably isn't her calling anyway. She trudges on, lost, wet, cold, and hungry.

She looks at her compass again, her face reflecting in its glass. “You're broken,” she tiredly states, as she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“No! No no no! Don't cry! Don't cry Polaris,” The lone girl, Polaris, reassures herself, “Last time you cried you froze your eyelids shut, and that really hurt,” She whines aloud.

Polaris takes a deep breath, slaps her cheeks, and swallows her tears. She elects to follow the river, her only hope of escape, pursuing the promise of a village just beyond this enigmatic forest. She daydreams of a warm meal in a cozy restaurant, and maybe a cold desert too. A glimmer of determination returns to her stride, as she continues her hum from before.