#its short and sweet but it hammers in its point so WELL

[hibernating-stag]

I think my favourite part of any GG song so far is extremely specific but it's the middle part of Armor-Clad Faith from 2:13-2:23.

Something about that really specific part scratches an itch in my brain

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Of Sinners, Saints and Fools: An Impossible Love

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this started as a short imagine after staring too long at the S2 gif with Sihtric and Sigdeflaed and then it started to grow and grow and yeah here we are...

Warnings: lots of fluff and a big portion of gentle and slow SMUT, Sihtric being so foolish but so adorably sweet, virgin!reader being a bit of a brat in the beggining

Word Count: 13,9 K

Summary: a beautiful lady needs help and Sihtric can't turn a blind eye, not knowing what consequences his act of kindness will bring, as the lady turns out to be king's niece and promised to the church. Can their impossible love have a happy ending?

“Stupid dress,” a silent curse escaped your lips, hands bunching the fabric further up your legs as you leaped over a dirt puddle in the middle of the street. The long linen skirt was quick to weave around one's legs with every step; it was surely not designed for speed and your frantic dash through today’s impossibly busy streets of Winchester were bringing both the dress and its wearer to their limits.  

It’s worth mentioning that your dismissive attitude towards your uncle’s well thought gift was not met with delight as you tried to argue that this piece of garment was absolutely nothing for you. You had tried to refuse to wear it. Not that anybody had listened. Not that anybody ever listened to you. 

“Here to the right,” you muttered to yourself as you rounded another corner into a small side alley, the uneven cobblestones threatening to trip you with every step, and you barely caught yourself as your foot slipped in a patch of wet dirt you hadn’t noticed.

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry, please, would you…” you murmured, weaving past startled townsfolk. Someone dropped a basket of apples, the fruit scattering across your path and you leapt over them at the very last moment.

Empty barrels, heaps of straw, some old buckets—the small side streets of Winchester had cruelly conspired against you. Or why would there otherwise be so many things scattered around. And why on earth were there so many people anyway? 

Ah, yes! The wedding! You had completely forgotten about it. 

Your skirts caught on a splintered wooden crate, pulling you to a halt. You yanked the fabric free with a sharp tug that tore the hem. “Damn it!” you hissed. No time to care, you bolted further, taking a sharp turn into another small and narrow street.

“Yes, Lord,” a far-off voice reached you from around the corner, finding you too late to stop or avoid the source of it. With full cruising speed you smacked into a wide, solid chest dressed in worn leather armour, the impact almost sending you sprawling to the ground. The only reason you didn’t hit the dirt were two strong arms that shot out and steadied you back on your feet.

For a moment the sturdy hold of those two arms was the only thing that kept you upright. 

“Lady, are you in some kind of trouble? Can I help you?” The voice carried a touch of worry, unmistakably giving away the speaker as Dane but you didn’t have much time to worry about it as you threw quick and weary glances over your shoulder. 

“Step out of my…,” you began in a pointed tone but the sound of boots nearing the curve into the sidestreet made you stop midway as you changed your mind and turned to face the worried look of a young and pretty handsome Dane warrior. 

Oh, this might even turn out pleasant, a thought shot through your mind as you placed your palms flat against his chest and pushed him harshly back against the nearby wall. The young man’s confused look melted into complete surprise as you quickly raised on your tiptoes and sealed his lips with yours before any sound could leave him. 

The young Dane stiffened, hands hanging in the air, as if afraid to touch you. The indistinct sound of hurried steps accompanied by the chatter of chain mail grew louder, making your heart hammer wildly in your chest. 

It was probably the desperation that added to your courage and made you even bolder. Without breaking the kiss, you seized the young man’s wrists and guided his hands down, placing them firmly on your hips before sliding them lower to cup your ass while you leaned further against him.

The hurried boots rounded the corner, but you didn’t dare to glance back, not even as shadows fell across the alley’s mouth. 

“Hey! You there!” a gruff voice barked.

The Dane hesitated, his lips parting under yours as if to protest or answer the call, but you didn’t let him. Your fingers slid up to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as you pressed your body flush against his. 

The thud of steps drew nearer, then slowed before stopping entirely, the guard clearly close enough to see both of you. Your heart was trying to leap out of your chest but at last, the young warrior seemed to understand your desperate ploy. His large hands, so unsure and tentative at first, tightened their grip and squeezed your buttocks as he spun you around with quite surprising force, pinning you firmly between his body and the wall. His hand slid up your tight as he pushed up your leg. His breath came hot and unsteady against your lips as he let out a low, guttural moan, pressing himself fully against you as though he’d done this a thousand times before. 

“Damn,” one of the guards muttered, spitting in disdain on the ground as he turned back to the others. “She’s not here. Just some filthy Dane rat messing around with a whore. ”

The sound of retreating boots followed, their thud gradually fading into the distance, and only then did you dare to let yourself breathe, a shaky exhale against his lips before you disentangled your fingers from the young man’s hair and pushed him back firmly.

Snap, your hand collided with his left cheek, and the Dane’s head jerked slightly to the side from the force of the slap. 

“What in Hel’s name was that for?” you could see his eyes flare in bewilderment as he turned back to you.

You smoothed your hands over the crumpled fabric of your fancy dress and offered him the faintest smirk. “For groping my ass,” you replied, arching a brow as if daring him to deny it. 

“What?” he sputtered. “Lady, are you mad? You put my hands there!”

You tilted your head, the ghost of a smile still playing on your lips. “Exactly. But you didn’t have to enjoy it so much, did you?”

“I … I…” he stuttered, as he struggled for a response, his mind still grappling with the absurdity of the situation. Your grin grew wider as you noticed the faint blush creeping up his neck while his hand absently rubbed at his reddened cheek, his gaze flickering between confusion and something akin to embarrassment.

He was remarkably handsome, you had to admit that, his large, expressive eyes boring into you with an endearing confusion and even some tinge of shyness you hadn’t expected from a warrior.  

You suddenly reconsidered your plan to dismiss him so quickly.

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” you asked, brushing past him with a flick of your skirts. 

The nickname seemed to stun him into silence again, you looked back over your shoulder with an expectant grin on your face while he stared at you, wide-eyed, as if you’d just spoken a language he didn’t understand. 

“I’m … I’m called Sihtric, lady,” he finally managed to stammer. 

“Good,” you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. “Then listen carefully, Sihtric. You got it right, I am a lady, and you just shamelessly fumbled with a lady’s ass.” You crossed your arms and arched a brow in the most serious expression you possibly could manage under the circumstances. “There’s only one way you can stop me from complaining to your lord about it.”

Sihtric’s confusion only deepened, his brows knitting together as he tried to understand what you meant. You pushed him gently back toward the wall, gesturing vaguely at his arms. “Be a good boy and lend me a hand.”

“What?” His puzzlement was so endearing that it took every ounce of your willpower not to burst into laughter.

“God, help me,” you sighed with exaggerated exasperation, rolling your eyes. “Help me climb the wall.”

There was no time to let him overthink it, you had to act quick before his confusion turned into realisation of what you were actually asking from him. You placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, stepping closer to make your intentions clear. Before he could say another word, you bunched your dress up and lifted one leg. The young warrior instinctively crouched slightly and offered you his hands for support, hoisting you up with surprising ease. You planted your other foot on his broad shoulder and with a determined grunt and a bit of effort pulled yourself up the wall.

You glanced down at him one last time, his baffled expression almost too much to bear. “Thanks, Sihtric,” you called down, smirking as you swung your legs over and dropped to the ground on the other side.

“You did what?” Uhtred didn’t even try to hide the bafflement in his voice as he stared at Sihtric while Finan, leaning lazily against the doorframe, pressed a fist to his mouth trying to contain laughter. 

“Just let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” Uhtred said, halting his pacing as he stopped directly in front of Sihtric. “You helped some madwoman, claiming to be a lady, escape the guards, and then, to top it all off, you helped her climb the wall into the palace gardens. Is that right?”

Sihtric shifted awkwardly, his eyes dropping to the floor as he scratched the back of his head. “Yes, Lord,” he mumbled, as he had to admit that the way Uhtred put it made it all sound hilariously stupid.

“And your reasoning for this, if I may ask?” Uhtred demanded, casting a helpless, almost pleading glance toward Finan, though his tone was beginning to crack with amusement.

“Well… she was…” Sihtric hesitated, feeling heat creeping up his neck until his ears slowly started to burn. “She was very beautiful, Lord. And… and she seemed to be in trouble.”

That was it, Finan finally lost the battle with himself, doubling over with laughter. “A beautiful madwoman and her heroic Dane,” he wheezed, slapping a hand against his thigh. “Ah, Sihtric, you’ve outdone yourself this time!”

Uhtred’s lips twitched despite his best efforts to keep his composure. “By the gods, Sihtric,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose before throwing his arms in the air. “You not only risked your own neck for some random woman but also recklessly endangered the royal wedding because she was pretty?”

Sihtric nodded miserably, his head hanging low as he muttered a barely audible, “Yes, Lord.” 

Uhtred sighed deeply, exchanging a glance with Finan, who was still wheezing from laughter.

“Someone, please, knock some sense into his head when it comes to women,” Uhtred muttered, shaking his head. “Sihtric, you’re too soft for your own good.”

Finan, still grinning, finally pushed himself off the doorframe and clapped a hand on Sihtric’s slumped shoulder. “Cheer up, lad. At least you’ve got a tale worth telling at the alehouse. ‘Sihtric the gallant saviour of beautiful madwomen.’” He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Sihtric groaned, the redness in his cheeks deepening. “You’ll not let me forget this, right?” he muttered under his breath.

Finan’s laughter bubbled up again as he slung an arm around Sihtric’s shoulders and steered him toward the door. “Forget it? Not a chance. I’m already dying to see Clapa’s face when I tell him this.”

Sihtric groaned louder, but didn’t protest as Finan led him out, while behind them, Uhtred rubbed a hand over his face, muttering something unintelligible about gods saving him from fools.

Sihtric walked through the palace gates beside Uhtred and Finan, his eyes sweeping over the courtyard. He had little interest in whatever business was to be discussed, so he was content to be left outside the great hall waiting to be called upon if needed.

“Sihtric, do me a favor,” Uhtred muttered, handing his sword to Steapa. “Stay out of trouble.”

“And keep yourself away from any woman here,” Finan added with a grin, winking as he passed. 

Sihtric scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, settling in to wait, ready for Uhtred’s orders should they come, while his lord and Finan spoke in hushed tones, preparing to be summoned before the king.

Sihtric’s gaze drifted lazily over the almost empty courtyard until it suddenly landed on you. You stood near a stone archway, half-hidden in the shadows, deep in quiet conversation with a maid.

Sihtric’s breath caught and his body went rigid as the realisation sank in - he knew you, the girl from the alley. His heart pounded as he stiffened, reaching out to grab Finan’s arm.

“That’s her,” he said under his breath.

Finan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Who’s her?” He cast Sihtric an exasperated look. “Lad, if you’re about to tell me you’ve just fallen in love at first sight, I’ll knock you on your arse just to set your head straight.”

Sihtric barely heard him, his focus completely locked on you.

“I’m serious,” Sihtric hissed, urgency creeping into his tone as he gestured toward the archway. “That… that’s the girl from the alley! The one I…,” but before he could finish the door opened and a voice rang out through the courtyard.

“Lord Uhtred!”

Alfred approached, flanked by some ealdormen and Beocca, and in the same moment you turned to the small gathering and started to approach.

Sihtric barely heard Alfred’s formal greeting to Uhtred, his mind reeling and his mouth dry, trying with all his willpower not to stare at you, while his mind helplessly scrambled for something to say until his world suddenly toppled even more.

“This,” Alfred continued, turning slightly toward you, “is my niece, whom I have called to court for a time of reflection and preparation. She is to take the veil.”

Sihtric’s stomach twisted. Alfred’s niece? His attempt at masking his shock failed miserably as his jaw dropped, while beside him, Finan made a strangled choking sound. A sharp nudge to his ribs snapped him out of his stupor, and he hurriedly bowed, following Finan’s lead. 

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

He had seen you, bolting through the alleyway like a fox on the run, he had held you, kissed you and had helped you over that damn wall. Sihtric absentmindedly rubbed his cheek half expecting to still feel the sting of the slap you’d given him instead of a thank you.

Yes, you had claimed to be a lady, but you hadn’t looked like one, especially not like one preparing for a life as a nun. Behind Uhtred, who was still deep in conversation with the king, Finan leaned in with a smirk. “Go on then, Sihtric. Tell the good king how his dear, sweet niece has been running from guards, kissing Danes and scaling walls.”

Sihtric clenched his jaw. “I…”

Sihtric’s ears started to burn as Uhtred threw him a stern glance, and not knowing where else to look, he chose the safest option and stared at his boots as if they were the most interesting thing in the world while his gut refused to believe it all was a mistake.

Alfred turned to leave, and Sihtric finally dared to raise his gaze, letting it flicker to you once more, and just for a moment, so fleeting he almost missed it, you met his eyes and your lips curled in that same mischievous, playful smirk that had sparked a rebellion of butterflies in his stomach back in the alley. 

It was later that night, the evening meal was still underway, but Sihtric couldn’t bring himself to sit and listen to the endless discussions about Danes settling at the borders of Wessex or cattle being stolen from the nearby estates. The corridors were dimly lit by torches, flickering against the cold stone walls, the faint sound of voices drifting from the great hall, as he wandered around with seemingly no purpose at all. He had no business being here alone, yet his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

He had hoped to find you and by some strange twist of fate there you were, standing at the far end of the corridor and glancing down the empty hall. As if sensing him, you turned and smiled.

Sihtric hesitated, then stepped closer, stopping at a respectful distance. You didn’t move, didn’t shrink away, just watched him with that same amused expression that had been haunting him since the moment he saw you in the courtyard.

“You,” he muttered. “It was you.”

“You sound surprised.”

His jaw tightened. “You lied to me.”

Your lips twitched as you tilted your head playfully. “I did not. I told you I’m a lady and you see, it’s true. I don’t recall telling you anything else.”

Sihtric let out a sharp breath. “You let me believe you were in danger.”

You chuckled, stepping closer with mocking lightness in your step, your eyes glinting, impossible to tell whether with mischief or simply reflecting the light of the torches. “And you, the fearsome Dane, saved me. How noble of you, Sihtric Kjartansson.”

The way you said his name together with that unmistakable mock in your voice sent a shiver down his spine, but he pushed it aside, he would not be distracted.

“Is it some kind of a game?” he asked at last. He looked even more puzzled now than when you saw him the first time and there was something almost endearing about him - the confusion, the concern flickering on his handsome, sharply defined face. “Lady, that was incredibly reckless.”

“Oh, come now.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Nobody got hurt. It was just a stupid wager.”

Sihtric frowned. “A what?”

You sighed dramatically. “A wager. With my dear stupid brother, Aethelwold.”

Sihtric blinked at you, utterly dumbfounded as his irritation flared. “I think I should tell the king,” he finally muttered but your amusement didn’t falter, if anything, it only grew.

You stepped even closer, close enough he could clearly see the torchlight dancing in your eyes and the playful tilt of your lips. “Go ahead,” you whispered. “Tell my uncle that you had the audacity to kiss his dutiful, pious niece and grope her ass, ah and don’t forget about the part about climbing the palace walls.”

Sihtric said nothing, you arched a brow and leaned in just a fraction more, your voice going down to a soft whisper. “Tell him, Sihtric, and let’s see what happens.”

He exhaled sharply, his fists clenching at his sides, yet he still didn’t say a single word, because you were right. It wouldn’t matter what he said. Who would believe a Dane and a bastard over King Alfred’s noble niece? And if, by some miracle, they did believe him, it would actually more than likely mean his own harsh punishment or maybe even death.

You smiled, stepping back and brushing past him with a deliberate, somewhat mocking  slowness in your movement. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you said, throwing a glance over your shoulder at the baffled young warrior. “I’d hate to be caught alone in the corridors with a dangerous Dane.”

And with that you were gone, leaving Sihtric frozen in place, as he watched the empty hallway long after you had disappeared, his pulse still erratic. He had never met anyone like you,  and gods help him, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a very, very bad one.

Sihtric hadn’t meant to pay you any attention, not after you had made it perfectly clear to him that you were nothing but trouble.

Each time his gaze wandered and found you, he kept telling himself it was just a stupid coincidence. Like that one time in the courtyard as a guard stormed past, knocking into one of the maids. The girl yelped as her basket tumbled to the ground, the freshly washed linens and carefully stacked bowls scattering across the floor. She dropped to her knees, scrambling to gather the mess, her hands fumbling with shaking urgency while the guard had barely spared her a glance before disappearing.

But you stopped. Sihtric watched, heart kicking in his chest, as you knelt beside the girl without hesitation, your hands moving swiftly to help, murmuring something soft enough that he couldn’t hear.

The maid looked at you with wide, startled eyes, no doubt she was used to people just brushing past, ignoring her or worse, blaming her for getting in the way, but you only smiled, handing her the basket with an ease that made it clear to Sihtric this wasn’t the first time you had helped when no one was watching.

The other time, he saw you in the kitchens.

Uhtred had sent him to fetch something for the men, but the moment he stepped inside his attention snagged on a burst of laughter.

You stood among the servants, flour dusting your sleeves, your hands moving swiftly as you helped knead dough, the older women around you chuckling as one swatted at you playfully for stealing a slice of apple meant for a pie.

You were laughing, not the teasing, mischievous laughter you had thrown at him in the corridor, this was different, so unrestrained, genuine and warm.

Sihtric lingered in the doorway, unable to move, unable to tear his gaze away. You were nothing like anyone he had known, and the more he saw you, the less he could look away.

Sihtric wasn’t sure when exactly it happened, maybe that time in the courtyard, when he saw you kneeling in the dirt, maybe in the kitchens as the laughter filled your voice and flour – your sleeves. Maybe even before all that but whenever it happened, it was too late now because he was completely, irreversibly lost.

You were in his thoughts constantly, when he trained, when he rode through the countryside, even when he tried to sleep, his mind kept replaying the soft curve of your smile, the warmth of your touch, the way your teasing words made his chest tighten and his stomach flutter.

And worst of all, he had no idea how to stop it, because he didn’t want to stop it.

Finan was the first to notice. Sihtric sat outside, staring absently into the flames of a small fire, completely lost in thought, when Finan plopped down beside him, slamming a hand against his back hard enough to make Sihtric jolt.

“Ah, there he is,” Finan said with a knowing grin, eyeing him carefully. “Sitting out here, staring at the fire like a lovesick puppy.”

Sihtric blinked, frowning. “What?”

Finan waggled his brows. “Oh, don’t play dumb. I see that dreamy look on your face, the faraway eyes, the little sighs, the way you haven’t spoken a bloody word in an hour.” He smirked. “Tell me, lad, who is she this time?”

Sihtric swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Finan howled with laughter. “Oh, he’s lost, Uhtred! More lost than I’ve ever seen him before,” he called over his shoulder toward the table where the other men sat. 

Uhtred glanced up from his drink and with a bemused shake of his head, he pushed himself to his feet and strode to the fire, arms crossed over his chest, but as soon as he got a good look at Sihtric’s face his smirk suddenly faded. 

“Gods, Sihtric,” Uhtred groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “Tell me you haven’t fallen for her.”

Sihtric said nothing, he didn’t have to.

Finan nearly doubled over in delight, slapping his knee. “Oh, this is priceless! The lad’s fallen for King Alfred’s niece - the imaginary mad lady he saved from the guards,” he wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Sihtric, my boy, from all the impossible loves, you had to pick the most impossible one, didn't you?”

Uhtred shook his head, stepping closer. “You’re a fool.”

“I know,” came the simple and honest answer from the young Dane.

“You don’t act like you do,” Uhtred seated himself across from him. “She’s noble. She’s promised to the church. She’s…,” he paused, “she’s not for you. Never can be. Not even in your wildest dreams. Forget her.”

Sihtric lowered his head, his fists clenching in frustration, he knew all of this, of course he did, but none of it changed the way his heart leaped every time you were near.

You hadn’t meant to pay any attention to the handsome young warrior you had tricked into helping you. It seemed you had convinced him to keep your strange first encounter a secret and you intended to let it remain so. The last thing you needed was your small escapades outside the palace’s walls reaching the king’s ears and reducing your already limited freedom to nothing. 

But as the days passed, ignoring him became harder. You couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be nearby more often than not, lingering just at the edges of your awareness, how his eyes would flick toward you only to dart away the moment your gazes met, as if he had been caught in something forbidden.

At first, it had been amusing, the quiet thrill of catching Sihtric off guard, of seeing the handsome, young Dane suddenly turn shy in your presence. It was almost adorable, the way he avoided your gaze, the way his hands fidgeted whenever you stood too close.

But the more you noticed him, the more you felt drawn to him. Sihtric wasn’t just handsome, he was unfairly handsome. The sharp angles of his face, the strength in his jaw, the way his mismatched eyes flickered between something guarded and something soft or the way the scar by his brow only made him look more striking, not less, all these small things suddenly felt impossible to ignore. 

You noticed how he moved – quiet, measured, always aware of his surroundings and how he never wasted words but listened more than he spoke.

You noticed how he was… kind, not in the loud, obvious way, like Uhtred with his bold declarations or Finan with his easy laughter. Sihtric’s kindness was quieter, softer, it was in the way he spoke to the stable hands with the same respect he gave warriors, in the way he picked up a fallen wooden bucket without thinking, passing it back to a flustered maid without a word and in the way he looked at you. 

You caught him watching you more times than he probably realised. He thought you didn’t notice, but you did, you noticed the fleeting glances, the way his lips parted ever so slightly like he wanted to say something but lost his nerve, and the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but never did. 

There was something so cute about him in the way he shifted whenever you passed by, as if unsure whether to move closer or step aside. You weren’t sure what to make of it but you had such a strange feeling, and it made something flutter in your chest.

So, naturally, you teased him.

It started small. A fleeting brush of your fingers when you handed him something. A pointed glance when you caught him staring. A sly comment that made his ears turn pink as he struggled to find a response.

You loved it, and then, suddenly, you weren’t amused anymore, you were helpless. You told yourself it was foolish, impossible, you were King Alfred’s niece, he was a warrior, and a  Dane and yet, you found yourself watching him just as much as he watched you.

The fire crackled low in the hearth as your maid stood before you. 

"Everything is prepared, my lady," she said, bowing her head. "Your belongings have been packed and everything is ready for the journey after the wedding. The abbess has been informed of your arrival."

Your stomach twisted, so this was it. Aethelflaed’s wedding was tomorrow and after that you would leave for the convent.

You nodded, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you.”

The maid bowed and left, the door shutting softly behind her, leaving you alone.

This was your last night of freedom, you swallowed hard, staring into the fire, and for the first time, you wanted to scream. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to be sent away, hidden from the world, given to a God who had never once answered your prayers.

You craved more, so much more from life and suddenly, you knew what you wanted to do – something foolish, something reckless, something crazy, something worth remembering.

You wanted to choose something in your life before it was taken away. You wanted to pretend, if only just for this one night, that you were not a lady, not the king’s niece, not a woman promised to the church and you wanted him.

Your pulse pounded as you rose from your seat, your hands trembling as you pulled a cloak over your shoulders. 

The palace halls were silent at this hour, save for the distant crackling of torches, and the cool night air slipped beneath your cloak, sending a shiver up your spine – both from the chill and from what you were about to do.

You had no plan, no rehearsed words, only the pounding of your heart and the knowledge that this was your last night before a life that was no longer yours.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you reached the wooden door tucked into the quieter corner of the servants’ quarters. You knew this was where Sihtric stayed, as you had seen him disappear behind it at the end of long days.

Your hand trembled only slightly as you raised it and knocked. A moment passed, then another.

For a brief second, doubts started to claw at you. What if he wasn’t here? What if he was asleep? What if… the door opened and Sihtric stood before you, blinking in confusion.

You swallowed hard.

“Lady? What are you…?” You didn’t let him finish, instead, you stepped inside, closing the door behind you and then you kissed him, bold and daring like that very first time in the alley. 

Sihtric tensed beneath your touch, his body going rigid, his breath catching in his throat and his hands hovered near your waist, unsure whether to pull you closer or push you away.

Wordlessly, you unclasped your cloak, letting it slip from your shoulders, beneath it, you wore nothing but your nightgown—thin, soft linen that barely reached your knees.

Sihtric froze, his breath hitched sharply, his eyes darkening as they swept over you, and his hands curled into fists at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach for you.

“Lady, I will not fall for another one of your tricks.”

Sihtric hastily gathered your cape and wrapped it around you, his movements rushed, almost frantic as if shielding you from sight would somehow shield himself as well. The moment your body disappeared under the cape he took a hurried step back, lifting his hands in surrender.

“No, no, it’s not like that! I swear it,” your eyes widened and your voice rose in desperation as you reached for him but Sihtric recoiled again, his retreat almost as instinctive as breathing. “Please, wait, listen me out…,” the cape slipped from your shoulder once more, exposing bare skin beneath it and Sihtric’s gaze dropped instantly, as if the sight burned him. 

“Lady, please,” he rasped, his voice low and somewhat strained. “Cover yourself and leave,” he demanded, turning his head to the side. He still didn’t look at you. 

“You may find it amusing to make a fool of me each time we meet, but this,” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This is somewhat cruel, even for someone like you.”

Someone like you. The words struck you harder than you expected.

“Someone like me?” you repeated, slowly realising the incredible awkwardness of the situation. Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady and you bit down on your lower lip, willing it not to tremble, as you fought against tears. You didn’t want to cry, not here, not before him. 

“Who do you think I am? A spoiled damsel, living her life in abundance and without any worry, making fun of others to her amusement? Yes?”

This was not how you had imagined your audacious nightly visit would go, but there was no taking it back now.

“The truth is I don’t even have a life. I’m not supposed to have one,” a bitter laugh escaped your throat as you took another step toward Sihtric, rapidly closing the space between you. The young Dane stiffened, his eyes darting to the side, looking for an escape, but there was none, trapped between you and the small wooden table, the only furniture in the room aside from the bed in the corner, Sihtric had nowhere left to run.

“I’m the eldest daughter of a dead king. I’m a threat. My future unborn children are a threat because they will always have a claim to the throne. I am tolerated, endured like a punishment bestowed by a higher force,” unnoticed, your fingers had curled around the leather straps of Sihtric’s armour, clinging to them with unexpected force.

“Do you know what it’s like,” you whispered, “to live knowing that the only family you have left secretly wishes you dead? Or, worse still, doesn’t give a shit about you like my little drunkard weasel of a brother?” 

You looked up, straight into Sihtric’s eyes, those big, expressive and beautiful eyes that had always shone with such endearing shyness now observed you with something unexpected – some strange softness, even compassion, the flicker of understanding across his handsome face giving you some new courage to continue. 

“Of course, nobody says it outright, but I can see it. In the way they look at me, in the way they speak to me. In the way I’m ignored, handled as an inconvenience in hundreds of little things, every single day. Believe it or not, but I don’t matter to anyone in this cursed place.”

The dam finally broke. Tears, hot and heavy, as big salty rain drops started to slide down your cheeks, and this time, you could do nothing to stop them. You had never spoken it aloud before, had never dared to voice all the piled up weight of hurt and disappointment, pressing against your ribs, and you had no idea why you were telling all this to the young Dane standing before you.

Maybe because you simply had to, because, after all this time, you just couldn’t keep it inside any longer. 

A sharp breath rattled through you as your shoulders shook, and you tried to smother the sobs clawing at your throat, but your body refused to listen.

Then, slowly, Sihtric moved. One of his hands lifted, settling over yours where it still gripped his armour, while the other rose to your jaw, his palm warm, his fingers calloused yet gentle as they cradled your face and his thumb ghosted over your cheek, brushing away the tears.

“Lady, please forgive me. I didn’t mean it that way,” he finally murmured softly, bringing your wrist to his lips. His breath, warm and feather-light, ghosted over your skin, and a shiver ran through you.

“And even this miserable existence will end in a few days,” you continued with an unsteady voice, your shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. 

“After the wedding, Aethelflaed will leave for her husband's estate. She’s been the only reason I’m still here. My only friend. We’ve been together all our lives, and my uncle couldn’t bring himself to send me away while she was still here. But now she’s leaving to start a life of her own, and I …, “ another sob escaped you, hollow and aching. “I’m being sent to a nunnery. I’m being locked away for the rest of my life. And they have the audacity to call it benevolence. They expect me to be grateful for being stripped of everything, even the last shreds of my freedom.”

A fresh wave of despair threatened to consume you, but before it could, Sihtric’s arms suddenly came around you, strong and steady, pulling you closer into a gentle yet firm embrace. A little startled you let it happen, you leaned in and let yourself be gathered in, pressing your cheek against Sihtric’s broad and solid chest. It felt inexplicably safe, his rapid heart beat drumming beneath your ear strangely soothing and comforting.

Sihtric’s fingers slid into your hair and gently threaded through the soft and silky strands with unexpected gentleness. He held you like something fragile, something precious, his movements slow, as though he wanted to shield you from the world, rocking you slightly, cradling you in his arms like a child in need of comfort. 

“I’m not deceiving you. Not this time. I’ve been watching you. You are different, Sihtric,” you raised your head, meeting his gaze again, and the words came out unexpectedly raw and trembling. “I’m here because I want to live.  I want more than to slowly fade away behind cold stone walls and empty prayers. I want to love and be loved. I want to breathe, laugh and feel. If only for this one night.”

Your big, dark eyes shimmered with tears, your nose tinged red from crying, but Sihtric saw none of it because in that moment, all he could think about was how heartbreakingly, achingly beautiful you were, and that Uhtred was probably right.

He was a damn fool.

There was only one reasonable thing to do: take you outside, slam the doors behind you, turn the lock, and forget you had ever stepped over his threshold.

Instead, his fingers found your chin, tilting it upward with a touch so light it was barely there, as he let his thumb hover over your lips – soft, rosy, slightly parted and trembling, and before reason could steal the moment away, he leaned in and kissed you.

Sihtric’s lips touched yours in a soft, lingering press, you had never expected from a warrior and even less from a Dane. It was gentle and searching, like he was trying to convince himself that this was real. You exhaled against him, a trembling breath that sent a shiver down his spine, and something inside him snapped.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, and then further up, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss, no longer hesitant but urgent, desperate. He kissed you like a drowning man gasping for air, like he had been holding himself back for too long.

Your body pressed closer, and without breaking the kiss Sihtric let out a low sound deep in his throat, half a sigh, half a groan, as he backed you up until your spine met the wooden post near his bed. 

The kiss was everything you had dreamed of, everything you had imagined the last few days, hiding your face in the pillows to conceal the crimson blush of your cheeks from the curious glances of the maids. It was full of passion and urgency, yet impossibly soft, unbearably tender, it made your cheeks burn and toes curl, leaving you drowning in a sensation so strange and unknown yet so utterly intoxicating.

Sihtric pulled away, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath uneven, his hands cradling your face. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he whispered as his lips travelled down, brushing a kiss against your shoulder. His breath tickled, and you shuddered from the unexpected warmth surging through you, making you yearn for more. 

“Please, just don’t stop,” you murmured back, your fingers curling into the leather of his armour, pulling him back closer.

A quiet, low chuckle rumbled in his chest as his calloused fingertips stroked your shoulders, teasingly slipping beneath the fabric of your cape. Slowly he ran his hands down your arms, freeing them from the cape, before gently taking your hands in his and bringing them up to his lips where he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your palms. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent your pulse into a reckless rhythm, and before you could fully process it, the cape slid from your shoulders, pooling soundlessly at your feet. 

Heat hit your cheeks as you stood before him, clad only in your linen nightgown, the fabric clinging closely to your frame, accentuating every line and every curve of your body. Instinctively, you lowered your gaze, hastily withdrawing your hands to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to shield yourself, all the boldness, all the reckless courage that had brought you here dissipated in a single heartbeat. 

A sharp exhale escaped Sihtric, a sound somewhere between restraint and wonder, as he watched you. Slowly he reached for your chin, tilting your head upward, coaxing your gaze  back towards him while his thumb traced your lips. 

There was something almost magical in the way you looked at him, your tear-streaked eyes wide, lips parted, your cheeks painting crimson with each rapid, quivering breath you took, a mix of alarm and trepidation, and a touch of deep sadness hidden in the depths of your gaze. 

All the mischief, all the roguish defiance, the teasing boldness you had worn like an armour were suddenly gone, stripped away together with that cape, and all that remained was a beautiful young woman - shy, uncertain and heartbreakingly vulnerable. And for reasons Sihtric could not begin to understand, you had placed your trust in him.

Sihtric leaned in to kiss you again, slower this time, his lips mapping yours with aching tenderness, taking his time to memorize the taste of you, the way your breath hitched when he brushed his fingers down your arms, the way your soft skin felt beneath his rough palms, sending a shiver through him.

He knew it too well, that feeling you had described before, the feeling of being seen as a burden, the sting of being unwanted and despised. It still haunted him to this very day. But he was just a man, a bastard, a Dane. Why would someone bestow this upon someone noble, someone as beautiful as you?

Slowly, almost reverently Sihtric took hold of your hands and placed them against his chest, cradling your palms into his. 

“You don’t have to hide, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, and an endearingly soft, hesitant smile graced your lips as you looked up at him.

“I… I’m sorry,” you murmured, your gaze dropping again. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to do… I’ve never…” you stammered, too embarrassed to admit what Sihtric had known from the moment he touched you, from the way you trembled against his lips both bold and unsure.

“Schhhh, it’s alright,” he hushed you with a smile, pressing a single finger against your lips. “I will show you. If you want me to. If you let me.” 

His hands rose to cup your face, his touch warm, steady, patient, and he tilted your chin gently, his breath mingling with yours as he held you there, waiting, giving you a choice, a chance to pull away should you wish to. 

You raised your eyes to meet his, and this time you didn’t look away, your gaze traced the sharp defined angles of his face, the strong line of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brow, the scars that marked his right cheek and brow, and finally returned to those mismatched, beautiful eyes whose shy and soft gaze had surprised and captured you, that made you feel as if he saw you in a way no one ever had. 

Gods, Sihtric wanted to fuck you, to burry himself in the heat of your body, to feel you trembling beneath him, to coax moan after moan from your plush lips, to make you fell apart on his cock, as he had dreamt it so many nights before, but for all his desire, all his need, he wanted this to be yours as much as it was his. So he waited.

“Show me,” you muttered and closed your eyes. The words still lingered on your lips as he kissed you again, slow, deep, consuming, his tongue teased its way past your lips, seeking, tasting, and when it met yours, a soft, breathless moan escaped you, swallowed instantly by his hungry mouth. 

Sihtric’s hands slid down, tracing the curve of your waist, smoothing over your hips, pulling you flush against him, the feeling of his body pressed against yours more dizzying as the sweetest wine.

The way you trembled against him was driving him mad. It was not just the heat of your skin against his or the way you fit so perfectly in his arms, it was the trust in your eyes, the quiet vulnerability beneath your boldness, the way you yielded to him yet held a power over him he could not name, that unsettled him, consumed him and made him wish he would never need to let you go. 

Another soft moan escaped you as he pulled away.

“Would you mind?” he asked, guiding your hands to the laces of his armour. 

Your fingers trembled slightly as you began to work the fastenings, undoing them one lace at a time. Each touch, each tug of the laces, made Sihtric’s breath hitch, his chest rising and falling just a little faster, and his gaze never left you, his eyes following your every movement. 

You held eye contact when the last lace was undone and he stepped back, shrugging off his armour and carefully placing it on the small wooden table. He stepped out of his boots and turned back to you, clad only in his breeches.

You reached out, trailing your fingertips down his strong upper arms, lingering over the rough ridges of old wounds before wandering further to the tout planes of his abdomen; he looked at you silently, but the way his breath quivered – just slightly – told you more than words ever could.

Then, in one fluid motion, he took your hands again and spun you around, pulling you against him.

Your back met his chest, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric still clinging to your body. His arms wrapped around you, strong and steady, hands gliding over your waist and hips before splaying possessively against your stomach.

Then came his lips. Soft, burning, trailing a path of slow, deliberate kisses along your shoulder, up the curve of your neck, making you shudder, as his mouth found the spot just below your ear, kissing you there and gently sucking at your sensitive skin.

Sihtric exhaled a low, satisfied hum, his lips brushing against your pulse, sending a fresh shiver down your spine as his one hand cupped your breast while the other slipped beneath the soft fabric of your undergarment, finding the heat of your most intimate place.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips the moment his calloused fingers touched you there, a bolt of pleasure shooting through your core, the sensation so intensive that it had you moaning, the sound vibrating in your chest as you nearly choked on your own breath.

“Sihtric,” you panted.

He hummed in response, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear.  “Do you like it?” he whispered.

“Y-yesss,” you breathed, barely able to form the word, completely lost in the dizzying sensation of his touch, of the way his hand rested against your pulsing core.  

“Do you want more?”

“I do… I want…,” your words faded away as instinct took over and you rolled your hips against his hand, seeking the friction you so desperately craved.

The words had barely left your lips as he gave it to you, a single finger dipped into your slick heat, and the moan that spilled from your lips – raw, unabashed, sinful – was probably the lewdest sound you had ever heard.

Sihtric groaned softly at the sound of your moan, as he curled his finger inside you, testing, exploring, and your body clenched instinctively around him, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his arms, seeking something, anything, to hold on to as your knees threatened to buckle.

“Easy,” he murmured, his free hand slipping down to wrap around your waist, holding you steady against him. “I’ve got you.”

And he did, he guided you, controlled the pace, his fingers moving in slow, teasing strokes, never quite giving you all, but just enough to drive you mad.

“Sihtric… please,” you gasped, rolling your hips against his hand like a slut, desperate for more.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he purred, his tongue flicking against your earlobe. 

You moaned as he added another finger, stretching you just enough to make you squirm, a keening whine escaping your lips as he curled them, pressing against a spot that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your core.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, your body arching into his touch, and he groaned at the sight of you – lips parted, chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath, cheeks flushed with pleasure.

His pace quickened, his fingers working you open, coaxing you higher, bringing you closer to the edge, making your body tense, heat coiling low in your stomach, your moans turning breathless, desperate.

“I can feel it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw. “You’re close, aren’t you? Don’t struggle against it. Let it go. ”

And with one final thrust of his fingers you shattered, a never before felt pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body trembling as you fell apart in his arms, and he held you through it, whispering soft praises into your ear.

Your legs felt weak, your body spent, but Sihtric didn’t let you go, instead he turned you in his arms, his gaze searching yours, lips parting as if to kiss you again, but you hid your face with your hands and buried it against his chest. 

His breath hitched in surprise, but he didn’t pull away, his arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer and his fingers threaded gently through your soft, unruly hair. 

“What did I do wrong,” he whispered, as a quiet sob wracked your shoulders, the sound muffled against him. “Tell me.” 

You shook your head, still hiding your face from him. 

“No, Sihtric,” you managed to breathe and gathered the courage to look up at him. “It was… Oh my God, it was too good to be true.” 

Sihtric exhaled softly, his fingers traced your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lips, swollen from his kisses.

“By the gods I want you …,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss those irresistible lips once more. “I want all of you,” his breath brushed against your forehead before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again. “If you’ll have me.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes searching his. “I do… I want to,” you whispered, reaching up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Sihtric’s breath caught as he answered your kiss, his hands moved to your waist, guiding you gently toward the bed, and you followed his lead, a bit hesitantly but willingly, as for the first time in your life, you weren’t afraid to surrender, not when it was to him.

Sihtric sat down on the edge of his bed and guided you into his lap, settling you astride him, you could feel his fingers caressing your back, his hands tracing slow paths down to your hips and further down to you thighs, where his fingers curled around the bunched hem of your undergarment. 

“Let me see you,” he murmured, grasping the thin fabric and starting to push it up your thighs. “All of you.” 

Your breath hitched and you froze, a rush of uncertainty washing over you, your hands clamped over his and he stopped without hesitation, his mismatched eyes flickering up to meet yours, searching. 

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the fabric, a deep exhale left your lips, and then, slowly, deliberately, you pulled the undergarment over your head, baring yourself to him.

Sihtric groaned, his grip found your waist, pulling you against him for the briefest second before, in one swift movement, he flipped you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth found your breast, his lips closing over a hardened nipple, sucking, teasing, and a sharp gasp tore from your lips, your back arching instinctively as sensations flooded your body.

His hands slid up your arms, gathering your wrists, gently pressing them above your head, pinning you there as his body held you in place.

You were utterly helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy, his warm and solid frame pressing down on you, yet you had never felt safer in your whole life. Sihtric leaned down and kissed you again deep and consuming as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

He had dreamt of this every night since that first meeting in the narrow alley, when your lips had crashed against his, of having you buried beneath him like this, your naked body writhing, begging him to fuck you. 

A low, strained groan rumbled in Sihtric’s chest as he took in the sight of you, bare and wanting beneath him, his painfully hard cock throbbed against the confines of his breeches, and with a sharp inhale, he let go of your hands, pulling away just enough to fumble with the laces of his pants.

You looked up at him as he pushed down his breeches and his cock sprang free, your eyes widening and heat flaring through you, for the first time seeing him as you had never seen a man before. 

You swallowed harshly, your fingers curling into the sheets at the sheer sight of him, long and thick it looked like it was impossible for it to fit inside you. 

Sihtric hesitated for the briefest moment, his eyes scanning your face, hurriedly, he pushed his breeches the rest of the way off, discarding them without care before leaning back, his lips seeking yours the instant he was beside you.

His kiss was impossibly gentle, he kissed your cheeks, your nose, your eyelids, his legs tangled with yours as he pulled you closer, wrapping you in his body.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,”  he whispered in your ear. “You’re not here to please me.”

Your fingers slid into his hair and you pulled him back to your lips for another kiss. 

Sihtric groaned softly, his breath shaky against your mouth, and his hand slid down, his calloused fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Without breaking the kiss, he nudged your legs apart, his thumb finding your pearl and you gasped into his mouth, your body jolting at the sudden surge of heat.  

His fingers moved slowly, purposefully, circling, teasing, coaxing soft, breathless moans from your lips as heat coiled low in your belly, pooling deep inside you.

He took his time with you, exploring every reaction, every shiver, every arch of your body against his touch. His lips trailed down your jaw, warm and searching, his fingers never stopped, stroking, rubbing, building up the pleasure, setting your nerves alight with every movement.

His kisses trailed lower and lower, his mouth moved over your belly down to your inner thigh and you whined out loudly, suddenly feeling his hot breath fanning against your core and his tongue lapping at your sensitive bud. 

“What… what are you doing?” you panted, your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you, as a new wave of ecstasy surged through your trembling body, your hips jerked instinctively as his tongue swiped against you with languid, delicate strokes. 

“Tasting you,” Sihtric hummed against your core, and the sound of his voice vibrated through you, sending jolts of pleasure deep into your stomach. His tongue started to move in fast, wet strokes, circling and flicking your pearl and your back arched, a broken cry escaping you as your hips bucked into his face, chasing the delicious pressure. 

Sihtric could feel it, how you trembled, how your hips rolled against this tongue, begging for more, how your whines and whimpers became more desperate. Sihtric groaned in response, his grip tightening around your thighs to hold you in place as he devoured you with growing hunger, bringing you closer and closer to the edge again. And then you fell, pleasure overtaking all your senses with Sihtric’s tongue on you driving you crazy.

"I think you are ready," he chuckled satisfied into your core, and the bed creaked beneath him as he shifted, his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress, as he positioned himself between your legs. His hands slid up your thighs as he moved, his calloused palms scraping deliciously over your flushed skin. You gasped when you felt it, the hot, swollen head of his cock brushing your slick folds, dragging against your sensitive perl, coating himself in your arousal.

“Do you do that often?” Sihtric leaned in, his lips grazed your ear as he whispered. “Running around and kissing strange men on your way?” 

“Sihtric, please,” you whined, shifting your hips against him, needing more, needing him to move, while desperately trying to clear up your scattered mind.

"Please?" he echoed as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance and his thumb found your pearl again, resuming its merciless circles, making any coherent thought slipping through your grasp like water.

“You should know that it is dangerous,” Sihtric murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “and as you see now it might happen,” his thumb pressed harder against your perl, making you cry out, “that you have to pay for it.”

“I… no…ah-ah,” you gasped, the sound quickly turning into a moan, as he pushed forward, his thick shaft splitting you open inch by inch, but the only thing you could concentrate on was his soft, low voice in your ear.

“I think,” he whispered, pushing a fraction deeper, “this is the right moment to apologise.”

“Apologise?” you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the impossible sensation of being stretched beyond reason and trying to grasp what Sihtric was saying.

“For slapping me,” Sihtric’s voice turned thick and jerky, “for making a fool out of me in front of my lord and my friends, for teasing me so mercilessly, for making me almost lose my mind from craving you,” Sihtric’s whisper turned into a low moan, vibrating in his throat, as he pressed forward more and more.

"Sihtric, I… ohhh God…," you panted, everything blurring around you as you scrambled for any intelligible words. 

“Look at me,” he demanded and you obeyed, your lashes fluttering open.

“Say it, little brat, say, that you’re sorry,” Sihtric’s breath came heavier with each movement, his muscles tensing.

Your chest rose and fell with every ragged breath as you felt anger and dismay slowly boiling up. It was something absolutely unheard, the bastard was almost balls deep into you and demanded an apology. Your mouth finally opened to protest, to argue but as you looked in his eyes - one hazel brown, one a stormy grey and blue – glinting with a mix of adoration and mischief as he held your gaze, all other words suddenly died in your throat as he thrust into you.

The sudden fullness made you cry out as your nails raked across his skin, leaving burning red trails in their wake.

“Please,” was the only thing you could whimper, writhing beneath him. “Please, I’m sorry…”

“Good girl,” Sihtric rasped, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, as he moaned and held you tighter, pushing forward one last bit until he was fully sheathed inside you. 

You gasped beneath him, and he kissed your neck, his breath choppy and laboured.

“Now I’m yours,” he whispered, his lips moving across your face and pressing soft gentle kisses along your cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your lips, anywhere he could reach,  and you moaned, your senses overwhelmed by him, by his scent, his warmth, the way his body pressed into yours, surrounding you. 

You could feel his cock twitch inside you, reminding you how deep he was buried within you, and only now you noticed that you hadn’t felt any pain. Sihtric groaned, his entire body shuddering with restraint, as his hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing, afraid to move too soon, too fast.

You reached up, cupping his jaw and tilting his face so his mismatched eyes met yours. His  lips parted slightly as if he was about to speak, but you didn’t let him, instead, you kissed him, slow, deep, languid.

“Thank you!” you whispered, breaking the kiss, and he looked at you questioningly. “For distracting me so well,” you smiled, running your fingers through his hair, and he exhaled a shaky breath. 

You rolled your hips experimentally, and God – the feeling of him moving inside you, even just a little, made you gasp against his lips. Sihtric growled, the sound deep and raw as his fingers dug into your hips.

"You're sure?" he rasped.

You nodded, unable to speak, your body already arching into him, and then he moved, slow at first, drawing himself out until only the tip remained before rolling his hips forward again, thrusting back inside you with aching slowness.

You moaned, your hands clenching around his biceps as pleasure sparked through you again, already building, already consuming. You could feel his cock brush against your inner walls, each movement sending a wave of sensations through you, that you had no words to describe. All you knew was that you wanted more. More of him. More of this.

The soft creaking of the bed and the sounds of your bodies moving together – his quiet groans and your soft gasps, filled the air and finally your breaths tangled as he found a steady rhythm, deep and unhurried.

Sihtric’s gaze swept over your beautiful face, you looked so endearingly sweet, utterly intoxicating, lips parted and flushed from his kisses, head tilted back, eyes half-lidded and heavy with pleasure. And the sounds, those soft, breathless moans, those quiet whimpers spilling from your lips, all that drove him to the edge of madness.

Gods, if only you would want him, not only for this fleeting night of pleasure, but for real. If only you would follow him. If you asked, he would never let you go. He would stand between you and the world, defeat thousand kings if needed, he would fight anything, anyone, if only you would ask him. If only you would say a word.

His breath was hot against your skin as he kissed along your throat, dragging his lips lower, savouring the way your body shivered beneath him. His chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged motions as he moved within you, the slight burn you had felt at first long turned into overwhelming, all consuming pleasure.

Every inch he withdrew left you aching, desperate for him, only to be filled again, each deep, rolling thrust sending sparks down your spine.

Your fingers dug into his back as his pace increased, your moans swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you again and again, as he lost himself in you.

His lips were all over you, kissing, sucking, licking. Every move and tender touch, every gentle kiss, every shallow breath, sigh and moan that escaped his lips, the way he held you and the way he looked at you, told you how much he enjoyed pleasing you, how much love this man had to give. And you wanted every piece of it. 

Sihtric groaned, gripping you tighter as he rolled his hips against you, his pace quickening. Your name tumbled from his lips, mingling with your whimpers as you met his thrusts with the same eagerness, your nails raking down his back, desperate to hold onto him, desperate to hold onto this moment before it slipped away.  

Sihtric’s lips brushed over your collarbone, the scrape of his teeth sending a shiver across your skin. You moaned his name, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him up to you and his lips found yours, swallowing your gasps as his thrusts grew harder, deeper, more urgent, his control slipping away with every movement, his hips snapping against yours faster and faster.

“More,” you pleaded breathlessly, rolling your hips to meet him. A shudder ran through him, his hands grasped your thighs, shifting your legs higher until he was buried impossibly deep, and you gasped at the exquisite pressure. He kissed you again, panting into your mouth.

Each thrust pushed you closer, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight, your body alight with sensation, and his fingers found your swollen perl again, stroking in time with his movements, coaxing you higher and making you fall apart bit by bit.

“It’s… it’s too much… Sihtric… I can’t…,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the overwhelming heat coiled tighter within you, threatening to consume you whole.

“Don’t think. Just feel, my love,” Sihtric whispered, the last words slipping from his lips unbidden, raw and instinctive, but you were already too far gone to fully grasp them.

Something inside you snapped, and your core started to clench around his cock, a broken cry spilling from your lips as pleasure crashed over you in waves of pure, white bliss, leaving you breathless, trembling and lost in the sinful euphoria.

Sihtric groaned and a silent curse left his lips, as your release overtook you and your body spasmed around him. He held you through it, watched you, drinking in the sight of you coming undone beneath him, while his hips kept moving, letting you ride out your high. 

In that moment, there was probably nothing he wanted more than to just let go – to bury himself deep within you and imprint himself on your walls, claiming you as his. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no way he would let you begin your new life in the nunnery, possibly carrying his child beneath your heart, a child he would never even know of. 

Your body slackened beneath him, and a deep groan spilled from Sihtric’s lips as he pulled out and gave his cock a few hurried strokes, before spilling his hot white seed over your belly and breasts. 

You could feel him trembling through the aftershocks, his breath uneven, his one hand on your hips still gripping you as though he never wanted to let go and you looked up at him completely spent and quivering in the aftermath of your peak.

This was the moment you had dreaded the most, hundreds of questions swirling in your mind earlier as you navigated the empty corridors, each step bringing you closer to Sihtric’s room. What will happen when it’s over, when you are his in every possible way. What will be left? Will there be any words? Or will there only be awkward glances and painful silence wrapped in unspoken regret? 

Sihtric suddenly rose from the bed, and your heart sank, as you swallowed harshly, head sinking back into the pillow. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing away the tears pressing at the corners.

This was it. Over. And the only thing left for you was to sneak out of this room and disappear into the shadows of the drowsy palace like some whore, having done her work. You couldn’t  deny you had hoped for more. But maybe this was even right. What had you expected? What more could there be between the king's niece and a Dane?

Something warm brushed against your skin, and you flinched slightly. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Sihtric kneeling beside you, carefully cleaning you up, his touch tender, unhurried, his lips pressed lingering, featherlight kisses against your shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, slipping back into bed beside you, his arms curled around you, pulling your back against his chest, wrapping you in his warmth.

You exhaled shakily, fingers tracing nervous patterns along his forearm. “I am,” you whispered, though you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and meet his eyes. 

Sihtric could feel the sudden stiffness in your frame, the way your breath wavered, the faint tremor running through your body and before he could stop himself, before he could think of all the reasons why it was reckless and impossible, the words just bursted over his lips.

“Come with me.”

What are you doing? His mind rebelled against him, picturing Uhtred’s face hearing out the news, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care about that. The only thing he really cared about was the silence that followed. The silence from you.

Sihtric’s words caught you by surprise. 

He was a warrior, young, strong and handsome beyond reason. Women in every village from here to Northumbria would gladly warm his bed, asking for nothing in return, no commitments, no expectations. 

And what could you offer him beyond trouble? Beyond being a burden or even worse - the death of him? He had already been more gentle, more caring than you ever expected from a warrior, from a Dane, but sharing a night of passion was one thing. Standing against Alfred’s wrath for you - that was another entirely. He would be a fool even to consider it.

“You don’t mean it, don’t you?” your voice finally came barely more than a breath.

Sihtric swallowed hard, his heart pounding so violently he swore you must have felt it against your back. He had spoken without thinking, but now, hearing the uncertainty in your voice, he realized just how much he did mean it.

“I do. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

“This isn’t just a dream, is it?” you whispered, turning slightly in his embrace so you could see his face, you reached out your fingers grazing his jaw.

Sihtric shook his head. “No,” he murmured. “It’s real. I want this. I want you and even more than that I want us.”

Your breath shuddered, and he could see the way hope, fragile but undeniable, crept into your eyes but then, your gaze flickered away, and he felt the shift before you even spoke.

“Sihtric… if we leave, they’ll hunt us.”

He brushed his nose against your neck. “I know.”

“They’ll never stop.”

“Then we won't stop either.”

Your lips parted as if to argue, but nothing came, and he reached up, cupping your face. “I don’t care how far we have to go,” he whispered. “I don’t care what it takes. As long as I have you, I have everything.”

“I would fight for you,” he continued, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. “I would die for you.”

A choked sound escaped you, something between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

Sihtric smiled: “Then let me live for you.”

It was too good to be true, it was more than you had ever dared to dream, you buried your nose into Sihtric’s chest, gripping his shoulders, afraid that he would simply disappear if you let go and with a deep sigh of relief Sihtric realised, in that moment, that you weren’t searching for a reason to leave, you were searching for a reason to stay.

“Say the word,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “And we go.”

A long silence stretched between you, then, with a shaky breath, you looked up at him and whispered: “Take me with you.”

“You did what?” Uhtred’s face was steadily turning red, his bewildered gaze flickering between Sihtric and the cloaked figure partially hidden behind his oathman’s back.

“This isn’t funny. Not even in the slightest,” he yelled, throwing a sharp glare at Finan, whose loud snort had startled even the horses.

Uhtred exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. “Let me make sure I’ve got this straight,” he said, his tone dangerously calm. “You slept with the king’s niece… and now, you want to run away with her? You want to make yourself Wessex’s enemy number one?” His voice rose in sheer disbelief. “Sihtric, have you completely lost your mind?”

He turned his attention to the cloaked figure behind Sihtric, his frustration boiling over. “Lady, please tell me this is some kind of a bad joke! Surely you understand that this is absolutely impossible?”

Sihtric remained silent, his shoulders tense, arms stiff at his sides and gaze fixed on the dirt beneath his feet as Uhtred’s fury crashed over him  and he took it all without protest.

Then, as Uhtred’s voice finally ebbed away, Sihtric lifted his head.

“Lord, I will not leave her behind.”

Uhtred opened his mouth to unleash another reprimand but something in Sihtric’s tone stopped him cold, he had never heard the young Dane with such quiet, unwavering resolve before. It was not defiance, it was not even desperation, it was certainty.

Uhtred let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “You don’t even know her,” he muttered, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Sihtric met his gaze without hesitation. “Lord, do you remember how you met your wife, Lady Gisela?”

Uhtred stiffened. “That was different,” he said quickly, the words coming out almost too fast.

“Was it, Lord?”

“Lord King! Lord King!”

Beocca’s voice cracked as he shouted, his face red, his breath ragged from the frantic sprint through the palace corridors. He was getting too old for this, he thought grimly, pushing himself forward, nearly tripping over the folds of his monk’s robes tangling around his legs.

Alfred looked up from the book in front of him, his brow furrowing as the doors to his library burst open.

“Father Beocca?” he asked, straightening in his chair as the older priest doubled over, hands braced on his knees, struggling to catch his breath.

Beocca raised a shaking hand, forcing himself to stand upright. “Lord King,” he gasped, still breathless. “I bring terrible news.”

His fingers trembled as he crossed himself. “Lord in Heaven, forgive us sinners, and show Your mercy upon us.” He hesitated, his throat tightening. “Your niece, Lord King…”

Alfred’s expression darkened and his hand grip the edge of his desk.

“What has happened, Beocca?” he demanded. “Speak to me!”

Beocca swallowed hard. “We were attacked, my Lord,” he finally managed. “The Danes.”

Alfred’s grip on the table turned to iron. “The Danes?”

“They took everything,” Beocca continued, his voice shaking. “Even the finger of Saint Osbert, which you so mercifully gifted to the abbess for taking in the child.”

“What?”

Beocca pressed his lips together. “God is merciful, my Lord. We were not harmed – the men of faith were spared. They tied us to a tree, where your patrol found us this morning.”

Alfred inhaled sharply, but Beocca wasn’t finished. His hands clenched at his sides, his next words coming out as a broken whisper.

“But the Lady, my Lord.”

Alfred went still, and Beocca forced himself to meet his king’s gaze.

“The Lady is gone. They took her with them.”

A heavy silence filled the chamber, Alfred slowly rose from his desk, his expression unreadable as he clasped his hands behind his back. He paced methodically, his gaze fixed on the floor, deep in thought. Finally, he turned to Beocca, who still stood near the door, waiting.

“We will pray for her, Father,” he said at last, his voice steady.

“Pray?” There was a flicker of barely concealed surprise in Beocca’s voice.

“Yes. Pray,” Alfred confirmed, stepping closer, his piercing gaze locking onto his priest’s eyes. “We will pray for her immortal soul. That is all we can do. Who knows where these savages have taken her?”

Beocca hesitated for only a moment before bowing his head. “Of course, my Lord. We will pray. God is merciful.”

He turned to leave, but before he could take another step, Alfred’s voice halted him.

“There is no hope, is there, Beocca?”

The old priest closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard.

“No, my Lord,” he answered solemnly. “There is none.”

You placed the last of the wooden plates and dishes onto the long table in Coccham’s main hall, the rich scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. Gisela worked beside you, her sleeves rolled up as she stirred a pot over the fire, humming softly to herself.

Across the room, Clapa had already made himself comfortable, the big, sturdy Dane tore at a chunk of bread as if he hadn’t eaten in days. He had a heart as soft as his appetite was endless, and the two of you had quickly become friends, especially after you started sneaking him extra portions of ham and cheese.

More voices filtered into the hall as the men began to gather, settling onto the long benches, their laughter and conversation filling the space with the easy warmth of familiarity, the pitcher of ale was passed around, the mugs filled and the night unfolded like so many others before it – comfortable, lively, and full of the kind of simple joy that made Coccham feel like home.

Finan’s boisterous laughter rang out as he nudged Osferth, grinning at some joke that left the young monk red-faced. Uhtred was deep in discussion with Gisela, but even he had the faintest trace of a smile tugging at his lips, relaxed in the comfort of his own hall.

You busied yourself fetching another pitcher of ale, weaving your way between the men, your hands gripping the heavy clay vessel carefully but just as you turned the corner by one of the thick wooden pillars strong hands grabbed you from behind.

A gasp escaped your lips, but before you could utter a word, warm lips brushed against your neck, lingering for just a heartbeat before traveling up to your jaw.

“Sihtric,” you scolded in a whisper, though your voice lacked any real bite.

He only hummed in response, arms wrapping around your waist as he stole another kiss just beneath your ear. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he murmured against your skin.

“I have not,” you huffed, though the way your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over your cheek betrayed you. “I’ve been working.”

“And I’ve been waiting.”

You turned in his arms, meeting the mischievous glint in his mismatched eyes, the dim firelight casting golden flecks across them.

“If someone sees…”

“They’ll be jealous.” His grin widened, his fingers brushing along the small of your back. “And I don’t care. I’ve missed you.”

Your cheeks flushed, but before you could reply, voices called from the table.

“Where’s that ale? I’m dying of thirst over here!”

Sihtric chuckled, pressing one last quick kiss to your lips before stepping back, though his fingers lingered at your waist before finally releasing you. “Go,” he said, smirking. “Before they all come looking for you.”

You shot him a warning glance but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips as you hurried back to the table, heart still fluttering from his stolen kisses, but as you set the pitcher down and took your seat, you felt his gaze still on you, watching, waiting, already planning the next time he’d steal you away again.

And truth be told… you didn’t mind one bit.

Suddenly, a shadow blocked the doorway, and all heads turned toward the unexpected guest.

“Beocca, old friend!” Uhtred called out, as he rose from his seat and pulled the priest into a hearty embrace.

Your heart, however, nearly stopped.

A rush of panic climbed up your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the bench. Had Alfred sent him? Had he found out? Your breath hitched, your stomach tightening, but before the fear managed to take you over completely, amidst the murmurs and shifting bodies, a firm hand slid under the table and clasped yours, squeezing gently.

Only then did you realise that Sihtric had wedged himself beside you, having nudged the others down the bench without so much as a word. You tightened your grip around his fingers and exhaled sharply, trying to calm yourself down.

Meanwhile, Uhtred had seated himself back at the end of the table. “How’s the King?” he asked loud enough for everyone to hear. “Still praying?”

Beocca straightened his robes with a huff. “The King is mourning,” he announced, unusually loud, ensuring all ears were on him.

A hush settled over the hall.

“His niece,” Beocca continued, voice thick with solemnity, “the fair, beautiful daughter of his beloved brother, who had decided to dedicate her life to God and was on her way to Saint Cuthbert’s convent, has been taken from us by a savage band of Danes. May she rest in peace.”

You stiffened beside Sihtric, and he squeezed your hand once more beneath the table.

“The Archbishop,” Beocca pressed on, “has been asked to assess whether she should be declared a saint, as some of the monks escorting her swore that they witnessed the heavens open and an angel descend to rescue her from the brutes and carry her up into the sky.”

A beat of silence followed, but whatever tension had filled the room quickly dissolved as conversation resumed. The fate of some distant niece of King Alfred, even one allegedly taken by Danes or even by angels, didn’t seem to concern the men of Coccham too much.

“I think the special brew Gisela made for them turned out a bit too strong,” Finan muttered under his breath, and Uhtred choked on his ale as he tried to suppress a laugh, while you had to bite your lip to keep from joining in.

“How are you, Lady?” Beocca’s voice was soft, filled with unmistakable worry as he seated himself beside you when the majority of the men had left the hall.

Sihtric exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching in irritation.

You drew a deep breath, but before you could answer, Finan who had been nursing his ale from across the table, leaned forward with a wicked grin.

“Father,” he drawled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “believe me, she is content. Loudly content, especially at night.”

Sihtric groaned audibly in embarrassment, shoulders hunching as he dropped his gaze to the table, and heat slammed into your cheeks, spreading down your neck.

"Finan!" you hissed.

"What?" The Irishmen gave an exaggerated shrug, his grin only growing wider. "I'm simply sharing the truth. It's not my fault the walls here are thin."

Beocca's mouth tightened, as he shot him a scathing glare before turning his focus back to you.

“Does he treat you kindly?” he asked, his voice low and earnest. 

“Father,” you murmured, “you don’t have to worry about me.” You exhaled, glancing at Sihtric, your fingers still loosely tangled with his beneath the table. 

"He treats me with more kindness than I deserve," you said softly, squeezing Sihtric's hand. “I finally have a home. A family. A life and a future. It’s more than I ever dared to dream of.”

You turned back to Beocca.

“I’m happy,” your lips curved into a smile as you felt Sihtric shift beside you, his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb brushing a soothing circle against your side. “He makes me happy.”

Beocca's eyes flicked to Sihtric, skepticism still lingering beneath the surface but Sihtric held his gaze.  "She means everything to me," Sihtric said with quiet certainty. 

“Thank you father for all you’ve done for us,” you reached out for Beocca’s hand and squeezed it.

Finan gave a soft laugh, lifting his cup in salute before taking a sip, while Beocca sighed heavily, shaking his head. 

“God help us all," he muttered, rising to leave.

The moment Beocca was gone, Sihtric leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple.

"Come,” he murmured, “I need to hear it again. I need to hear just how loudly content you are," he chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed with heat all over again. "Sihtric,... " you mumbled, trying to sound indignant, but the giggle bubbling in your throat betrayed you, spilling out before you could stop it.

And even if Beocca still had his doubts, you knew the truth - you had never been happier in your entire life.

[reminiscingtonight]

The Talk

Alessia Russo x Williamson!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: A short one for our Arsenal girls' win

[WOSO Masterlist]

Leah’s not stupid.

Leah may be rash, hard headed, and a little reckless sometimes, but she’s not stupid.

It’s obvious how something has changed with you. You, her sweet baby sister, went from watching trashy TV on the couch with her most nights to not even bothering to stay home after practice anymore, always sneaking back into the house at early hours of the new day when you think she’s still asleep.

Leah likes to think she’s a good sister. Someone you’ll always turn to if you need help or if you have anything you want to share with her. 

But obviously what she likes to think can’t be further from the truth because two months pass and you’re still sneaking around, taking muted phone calls around the corner, never spending more than a few minutes alone with your sister anymore. 

Leah likes to take pride in her observation skills. But honestly she can point to your inability to be subtle that helps her figure the whole thing out. It begins as pink cheeks whenever a certain new striker comes near you. The eyes that linger too long when you are all in the gym together for a quick weight training session only adds on to her suspicions.

Leah has also noticed the way long limbs often trail after you, stumbling into the nearest bin whenever you laugh at a not-so-funny joke made by the girl in question. Alessia’s often found sat near your side whenever the girls have a movie night, or whenever the lot of you go out for a meal together.

Leah considers her suspicions confirmed when you disappear after a night out at the club with the rest of your teammates and Alessia is also conveniently missing as well. 

So, the next day after practice, Leah decides enough is enough. No more sneaking around, no more lying. She was going to take matters into her own hands and put an end to everything. It’s about time she lays the hammer down, even if it comes at the risk of you hating her. 

The opportunity arrives when Alessia is called away to the physios. Leah lingers in the hallway after practice ends, pretending to busy herself as she awaits the striker’s return. When Alessia finally finishes her session, she’s walking down the hallway, head down, entranced in her phone when a hand shoots out, gripping tightly against her forearm and yanking her into a nearby storage closet. 

The shriek she lets out quickly dies when she meets the familiar eyes of her national team captain.

“Leah!” Alessia gasps, trying to pull in a breath of air at the surprise. 

Leah’s eyes narrow at the younger girl, hand only tightening its grip against her arm. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Russo. Because I definitely do, and I have to say, I’m not amused so far.”

“I…” Alessia trails off, trying not to look too rattled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Watch your next words carefully, Russo. I don’t take well to liars,” Leah warns, voice dangerously low.

Alessia’s mouth clamp shuts. 

You warned her about this. On your first date out, you warned Alessia about how protective Leah could get. 

“I think we should wait to tell Leah. There’s no telling what she’ll do.”

So she agreed, not thinking much about it. 

Until she got the offer to play for Arsenal. And then her access to you was unfiltered and oh-so easy. 

Where the two of you used to be so cautious about not letting anything slip, faced with the ability to see each other whenever you wanted was just too good of an offer to pass up. So gone were the nights you’d entertain Leah’s want for sisterly cuddles. Gone were the days you went out for after practice smoothies, relishing in some quality time with your sister. Now you go out on dates with your girlfriend because you can. You can take her to all the places around London, take all the time you want mindlessly strolling about just because you can.

Though now that Alessia is thinking about it, maybe the two of you should have tried a little harder to hide your relationship. Because faced with a slightly fuming Leah Williamson glaring down at her, Alessia has the sinking suspicion she’s not getting out of here alive.

“You’ve been keeping (Y/N) out until the late night hours every night. I oughta have you benched for the next couple games just for that.”

Alessia’s eyes widen even more in fear. Did Leah actually have the power to have her benched? Alessia has no idea. But she’s not willing to flirt with the idea. 

“I love her, Leah. I really do. She… she makes me feel things that I didn’t think I ever would.”

And once she starts, Alessia can’t stop. 

“I would never hurt her, I hope you know that. I feel so lucky every day that I get to call (Y/N) mine. I thank my lucky stars that she chose me because I think she can do so much better. I wake up every day so in awe of her and I love her so much that sometimes I feel like I can’t even breathe. I love her every single second of every single day, and I’ll continue to love her until we either break up or I die because let’s be real I’ll probably keep loving her even if we ever do break up. Not that I want to break up with her though! I would never break up with her,” Alessia rambles on, not seeing Leah blink as she slowly becomes overwhelmed with the amount that the younger girl is saying.

Leah didn’t really come into this thinking too much. Her goal was to scare the star striker a bit, but the younger girl’s word vomit of appreciation for you, though lovely, is a bit unexpected.

Alessia also seems a bit taken aback herself, face steadily reddening as embarrassment floods her system. 

Alessia doesn’t have much time to think it over though. Suddenly the door beneath her back disappears, light flooding into the room as the two of them go toppling out of the closest. 

Leah swears when she crashes to the ground, Alessia’s bony frame not doing much to cushion her fall. 

When Leah looks up, she finds you staring at the two of them, mouth slightly agape in confusion. 

Alessia pales when she realizes it’s you who opened the door. She scrambles to push Leah off of her, the older girl glaring at her as she lands on the cold hard ground. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Leah, on the other hand, simply rolls her eyes before getting onto her feet. You’re watching with wide eyes as she comes to a brief stop in front of you, pausing long enough to brush the lightest of kisses against your cheek. 

“She passed the sister test. I approve.”

She pinches your cheeks between her fingers as an afterthought, and your look of confusion quickly turns into a scowl as you swat at Leah’s hands. “Leah Cathrine, get your grimy hands off of me.”

“Bring Lessi around for dinner some time, yeah?” With one last loving pat, Leah gets on her way, leaving the two of you to stare after her as she slowly turns the corner.

Alessia nervously rubs at the back of her head when you turn your gaze onto her. 

“What did you tell her, Less?”

“I…” It’s times like these that Alessia can really see the resemblance between you and Leah. Narrow eyes full of suspicion but still filled with love. Alessia hedges her bets that you love her more than you’ll dig for answers. 

“I love you?” The words are paired with an unconvincing smile, Alessia not eager to repeat her word vomit.

[a-collection-of-cool-ideas]

Thank you wonderful fanfiction authors! You do a great part to make life wonderful. Recs below the cut (I CANNOT believe I haven't rec'ed some of these before!) Previous recs: 2018, 2020, 2022. Looks like I only do these every two years lol.

Gravity Falls

Feels Like We Only Go Backwards, by @dubsdeedubs / WDW; complete multichapter. A heartbreaking concept with a happy ending. Sad but wonderful and a really fun idea. Working out just what is happening is a great challenge, and watching the pieces fall into place with mounting consternation is awesome.

In Search of Antidotes, by @astriiformes / azhdarchidaen; complete multichapter. An awesome Historical AU, and neither Ford nor Stan go through the portal (there’s still suffering though). Bit of freakiness, bit of funniness, bit of stubbornness, bit of coolness. A very cool read! A much more classic demon-possession story than canon with its modern sci-fi overtones. The gothic sci-fi horror takes the floor here. Jekyll and Hyde, Frankenstein, Dracula, it takes inspiration from all the best roots!

Just a Game, by @nikxation / nikxation; one-shot. Intense! High stakes! Well-written! Doesn’t mess around getting to the point, and hammers its beats into you! LOVE it! Bill holds a gun on Ford, while in Ford's own body. The tension in this is unbelievable!

An Outreached Hand, by @dubsdeedubs / WDW; incomplete multichapter. Something freakishly supernatural happened to Stan during his homeless days. It’s called Ghost Trick AU, and it’s super interesting and utterly engaging! It’ll have you tearing through it wanting to know what the heck is going on! The characters are all so intense in their own ways, and the plot is drip fed to you piece by delicious piece.

Snapshots from an Alternate Reality, by Rethira; one-shot. PORTAL STAN!! Just a short little one-shot about this alternate version of events, but incredibly cool to read. Love the writing style: it takes you through the scenes like a skipping stone, its wake mesmerising.

All Things Go, by @cantica10 / Cantica10; incomplete multichapter. A weird (in the best way) idea of a crossover between Timestuck AU (where Mabel is trapped in the past) and a Wings AU (where, you guessed it, everyone has wings). Adorable Stan and Mabel bonding, but is SO not afraid to get really dark. That being said, it’s also so sweet and fluffy, and explores the effortless love that Mabel feels for Stan, and that (broken, scared, young, sad) Stan feels for her. This is one of those fics I am compelled to keep coming back to. It’s such a full experience to read.

Snow and Pine, by @ancientstone / TheArchaeologist; incomplete series. A great concept!! Loved the idea of these two brothers being forced together by circumstances instead of intention. Some great selective description here, and the plot itself is a very fun ride. WERE. WOLF. STAN. Need I say more?

Lighthouse Keeper, by @impishnature / impish_nature; incomplete series. There’s a lot to this story; the main work is mostly a series of one-shots, with other works sprinkled between. The idea is so eerie and haunting, and the vibes are pretty different to most other things I’ve read. The instigating artwork by @sightkeeper is magnificent and Imp has managed to capture the images very well!

Triptych, by @scribefindegil / scribefindegil; one-shot. A very cool character study on Stan. Great for informing his central motivations. It's kept short and sweet, but the analysis is no less thorough for it. I loved the insight into my favourite character's life and mind. Scribe writes him so well.

Blind Faith, by pinesinthewoods; complete multichapter. Come on, how could I NOT mention this one? It's one of the many here I'm astonished not to have rec'ed earlier. Super dark, super scary, an AU where both Stan and Ford fall into the portal. Ouch, but cool. Really good, but be prepared to yell out loud in horror. This is a doozy, don’t expect a lot of happy feels going into it. That being said, it is INCREDIBLE. The structure of the story is fantastic, perfectly encapsulating the reliance each of the brothers’ needs to have on the other and how one has to step up when the other can’t. Stan and Ford are forcibly tied together in this, and they find they each mean more to the other than expected after ten years of bitterness and radio silence. A STAPLE of Gravity Falls fics.

Like They Were a Perfect Fit, by @sensitiveowl / hapful; one-shot. Aw, ow, cries. Love! Lots of tangled-up emotions and scenes that will tug at your heartstrings thinking about Ford’s life journey. Speculations on the importance of the photo that Ford is implied to have carried around with him for 30 damn years.

30 Seconds Later, by @invisibletinkerer / shayera; incomplete multichapter. Loved this to death! A really great concept executed fantastically. An AU where while it took Stan thirty years to rebuild the portal, Ford was only gone for thirty seconds. The characterisation of paranoid Ford and his interactions with the rest of his family are perfect, as is his reaction to finding himself in the future and his relationship to Stan. And Stan is wonderful in this too! A very good examination of age, aging, and the associated changes in perspective.

1 Step Forward, 20 Years Back, by @infriga / Ppleater; complete multichapter. An AU where Stan is turned into a kid in the midst of Ford’s pre-portal paranoia over Bill. It adopts the wonder and innocence that comes with youth, but still retains the darkness of Stan’s adulthood - wait, actually, his entire life has been kinda dark in this fic. This is one of those fics you can tell the author had a lot of fun with. It’s palpable in the chapter titles and the art :) The illustrations are beautiful, the story is heartfelt, and it is not at all afraid to go into some dark places. A very enjoyable, loveable, read!

The Road in Front of You, by @nicnacsnonsense / Nicnac; complete multichapter. Ford falls through a portal potty and gets dumped in Stan's path. MAN!!! This fic has a really great concept, and Nicnac’s writing is impeccable as always. A great look at Ford and Stan’s relationship post-high school, how their personalities have developed and changed, and most importantly how they reconcile the changes in each other.

Nothing a Little Sleep Can’t Fix, by AkitaFallow; one-shot. Oh MAN. WOW. Okay. A heavier look on the mark Sock Opera leaves on Dipper, featuring repercussions throughout the rest of Dipper’s summer. Absolutely, heartbreakingly, entrancing. The slow build up of the plot perfectly mimics the rising emotions that poor Dipper is struggling to keep a lid on until they inevitably explode, and watching the people who love him pick up his pieces afterwards is just golden.

Ad Infinitum, by @nicnacsnonsense / Nicnac; one-shot. My first read of the Same Coin Theory and it was awesooooooooome!!! There are so many repetitions of phrases that spark in my mind because of how great they were, and the aspects of Stan contrasted with Bill that thread through it are incredible. Kind of an unsettling concept. I couldn’t get enough. For a fic that’s all about cycling around, you'd think it'd get repetitive, but every paragraph is rich with novelty. A FEAST.

Some Sunny Day, by @anistarrose / anistarrose; complete multichapter. Another Same Coin Theory fic. The beats of the plot in this are stunning, with some truly awesome lines that left me reeling and thinking Oh SHIT that did NOT just happen!!! In the best way possible. A highly interesting story and some excellent takes on the Pines family and the world of Gravity Falls.

Towards the Sun, by @notthistimespock and pinesinthewoods; complete multichapter. EXTREME BROTHERLY FEELS. Incredible! Love the in-depth examination and speculation on Ford and Stan prefinale. A different ending for Weirdmageddon, following Ford’s journey through Stan’s mind. It gets sad, it gets scary, it gets freaky, you shed tears. Another one of those staple fics for the fandom. The story is a wild and heartrending adventure, full of imagery that stuck in my brain for years after the first time I read it.

Fisherman’s Knot, by @scribefindegil / scribefindegil; complete multichapter. MORE EXTREME BROTHERLY FEELS. Deals with postcanon adventures on the Stan’O’War II, including some reeeaaaally bad mental states/situations. Have tissues handy. I think this is generally regarded as the be-all-and-end-all of Stan twin angst. It is long, it is HEAVY, but it is also heartwarming and hopeful, and full of adventure and magic, and the kind of love it's made with really comes through.

Mob Boss Stan Pines, by Capricious_Passions; complete multichapter. A fic that you HAVE to read over again to get the complete picture. Complex and well-thought out, incredible attention to detail, but the first read will baffle you! A lot of fun trying to figure out what’s happening, and even more fun on the re-read picking up all the details you missed the first time!

Scrapbook, by Shyeye; complete multichapter. The complicated weight of grief hangs heavy over everyone in the story, and the difficulties in dealing with it are at the forefront of everyone’s minds. The depth each of these characters are written with is very much appreciated, not-so-pretty parts and all. This was a wonderful, touching, read.

Rescind, Reset, by @endae / endae; one-shot. Canon divergence where Mabel temporarily lost her life during Weirdmageddon, and the aftereffects on her and the rest of the family. It is one of the most beautiful things I’ve read, very emotionally raw. I cry every time. This incredible story is wrought with a filter of broken hearts being pieced back together as the characters live through the aftermath of their happy ending. It’s a shining, nuanced take on Mabel and how someone with her personality deals with the plot premise. I love the complexity of the emotions in this, not only from Mabel but also from the rest of the Pines as they work through their own traumas.

Safe as Houses, by @beastenraged / Beastrage; complete multichapter. If I could whistle I would! An entrancing read about the Pines family’s adventures from the perspective of their home. Some great and not too far-fetched ideas about how the Shack may have come across to its inhabitants over the years.

Greyscale, by @impishnature / impish_nature; one-shot. OH MY LORD. Incredibly touching and heartbreaking, I can’t look at this directly for fear of being emotionally blinded. Loss, and gain, and loss. Striking, powerful, so, so beautiful and painful. The aftermath of Weirdmageddon: another canon divergence where Stan lost his life. Except... Reverse Portal AU Stan stumbles across this sad dimension soon after. I swear, no fic has made me cry so hard and left me so much in shock of what the heck just happened to me. I love the look at how loss has affected the characters, and I especially love the path to recovery that is laid out for them.

Buying Gold, by @dubsdeedubs / WDW; incomplete series. Veeeery intriguing. It’s not really Same Coin Theory, but it’s a great read about the similarities between Stan and Bill and some cool speculation on Stan post-defeating Bill.

Any Family You Choose, by @nicnacsnonsense / Nicnac; incomplete multichapter. So sweet! Portal Dipper finds a young Stan Pines and decides to help him out. This concept is so wonderful, and the characterisation is blindingly clear. Keeps you guessing at the backstory!

Across the Universe, by Queen_Mab; one-shot. SUCH a great set of adventures. The multiverse really tries to hammer in its lessons sometimes, whether they stand a chance of sticking or not. Extremely well-written and fun, I devoured every word ravenously. Some scenes of Ford's portal time, with some VERY interesting encounters.

Star Wars

Anything Brighter than Even the Sun, by @hamliet / Hamliet; complete multichapter. The Rogue One crew survives and continues rebelling, as does Galen! The main focus is on Jyn and Cassian's characters and relationship, and how they navigate growing into a family. I love Jyn's character especially in this, with all those hard edges guarding a deep, deep well of passion.

Chirality, by @niobiumao3 / Niobium; complete multichapter. A Tech was CX-2 fic! It's great to see this fan theory explored, and Niobium writes so well! The plot is entrancing and has you hooked on the edge of your seat waiting for all the pieces to fall into place for our poor brainwashed guy. The way CX-2 thinks and melds with the personality of who Tech once was is beautiful and his interactions with his family and Phee are a sight to behold.

Crash Landing by @returnofahsoka / delightwrites; complete multichapter. Another Tech is CX-2 fic, can you tell this idea has a hold of me. The characters' voices in this come through SO clearly, it's insane, and the writing style is perfection. Jumbled and pained and confused and grieving, all threaded through with that little bit of hope. Wonderful.

I'll Keep You Safe (You Keep Me Strong), by @miadeardn / sheikahs; oneshot. An AU where Crosshair's chip never activates and he is as embroiled in adjusting to being on the run with a new little sister as the rest of the Batch. Just a sweet little moment between the two. Both of them are written very in-character, and it's great seeing a side of Crosshair that never came to regard his brothers as his enemies.

Talking in Defence, by @buskuta / buskuta; oneshot. An awesome look at all of Hunter's complicated feelings regarding Omega and Crosshair's relationship post-Tantiss. He's not a paragon of perfection, he's human. I can't emphasise enough how much I love this and how well he's written here.

Unyielding, by Face_of_Poe; complete multichapter. The scene immediately post-reunion between Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker, with some speculation on Crosshair's internal strife at that moment. There's a chapter for each of the remaining Batch and Wrecker's is EXCEEDINGLY well-written in my opinion. We don't get nearly enough exploration in canon or fanon about the depth of his thoughts and feelings.

Plan 100, by Face_of_Poe; complete multichapter. An awesome canon-divergence speculating on Omega and Crosshair's escape from Tantiss. The action is great, the strategy and coded communication is so sharp, and the feeling of desperation as Omega and Crosshair fight to evade recapture is fantastically taut. I especially love the small moments in this showing just how close these two have grown, and, in Crosshair's case, how little he's realised it happening. It feels very true to their characters.

Through Darkness Unknown, by @stardustandash / StardustAndAsh; complete multichapter. Holy shit the stakes are so high in this. A Tech Lives canon divergence of Omega and Crosshair's stay in Tantiss, and you can really FEEL just how helpless they all are to Hemlock's control. I absolutely love how this fic does not pull its punches, really forcing Crosshair and Omega into relying heavily on each other. There's so many great scenes in this that are seared into my brain!!

Ask Yourself, by StoneSage; complete multichapter. Omega is captured by the Empire while Crosshair's still working for them. I freaking love the complicated messiness of Crosshair's response to this- he's constantly challenged to act on the callous persona he projects, and constantly comes up short realising what he's actually willing to do to his family when it comes down to it. Very true to his character, and the quandaries Rampart presents him with a subtly terrifying. A fantastic examination of character and a great plot to go with it.

The Space in Between, by Misvet; incomplete multichapter. A series of stories focusing on the complications and dangers involved with Omega joining the Bad Batch. The writing style is great, the plots are great, the characters are great! It's all great! Just read it!

Maybe Fate Has Different Plans, by hanged_albatross; complete series. God I love this so much. Some incredibly touching and well-written moments of the Bad Batch protecting each other in a dangerous galaxy, with Omega, of course, at the centre. She is characterised so well in this, and constantly written with the idea of despite being so young, she is also no less protective of her brothers than they are of her.

Modern Batch, by kaydear; incomplete series. DUUUUDES just read this. It's such a sweet collection of stories about an alternate universe of the Bad Batch in a contemporary setting. Life is tough and complicated and full of pain, but also there are others right beside you to lean on when you need it, and so life is also full of love. I have cried multiple times while reading and re-reading this.

Skulduggery Pleasant

I Will Lay Me Down, by mcginnis; oneshot. This is perfection. A rewrite of the aftermath of the Lord Vile reveal in Death Bringer. I wish this was canon. Valkyrie and Skulduggery are PERFECTLY characterised in this scene, and the nitty-gritty of how they're both feeling is thoroughly explored and explained, and the tone of the story never once diverges from canon's- it is complicated, dark, and interspersed with ridiculous levity.

Pride and Prejudice

A New Addition, by @ralkana / Ralkana; oneshot. A great fic about Elizabeth and Darcy and childbirth, various moments in this are imprinted in my mind permanently. High emotions all over the place, incredible tension and wonderful dynamics between the two main characters and the rest of the family.

Mr Bennet Travels Through Time, by AMarguerite; oneshot. A truly great fic with a wild concept that totally works. Mr Bennet is actually from the 1990s. Weird and funny, but also touching and sad, and goes leagues towards explaining a lot of this man's quirks and contradictions. I was fully invested in this all the way through reading, and it did not disappoint. Utterly satisfying.

Once Upon a Time

The Worst, by @alchemistc / alchemistique; oneshot. The real-life dynamics of these ridiculous fairytale people had me grinning ear to ear. The mortifying ordeal of your family of fictitious characters helping you move into your college dorm as told from Henry's perspective. Love it to death.

[casual-praxis]

Miscellaneous things I noticed in the FS Manga

I reread the Four Swords manga quite a bit now that I have it, so I figured I might as well share some of the things I’ve noticed over the course of those many rereads.

- In chapter 11 it’s revealed Blue keeps his hammer in his hat.

- The flower Zelda is mentioned to like is potentially a blue flax, just going off of appearance and status as a wildflower. 

- In the first chapter, all the Colors have dark-shaded undershirts/sleeves, but starting in chapter 2, only Green has dark-shaded sleeves (Blue has a lighter grey color). This was probably done to save time, or maybe just to make it easier to tell them all apart. 

- Everyone’s default expression just seems to be :0 which is honestly probably just a quirk of its era, but still really funny. 

- In chapter 2, the first time Blue gets hit by Shadow, Red is briefly seen crouching next to Blue as if to check on him. I think Red remains crouching after Blue gets up, but I’m really not sure. He’s back on his feet by the time Blue gets hit again.

- Vio holds books really weird but at least he seems to be having fun. Up until someone talks to him, anyway. (I attempted to translate the words we can see, but I think it may just be gibberish. It was not a very good attempt to be fair.)

- Shields, swords, and sheaths only seem to exist when relevant. 

- For being touted as the “boring” and “uninteresting” member of the team, Green sure does have a lot of expressive moments if you focus on him. I think he’s the most well-rounded of the bunch in terms of personality. His defining character trait is “motivated”, which when compared to “angry”, “cry laughing”, and “morals are a roulette wheel”, isn’t that easy to see visually. He’s competitive with Blue, he shows when he’s scared or happy like Red, and he can think rationally like Vio. He has all these overlapping traits with the others, they just aren’t nearly as prominent. Like a jack of all traits.

- In chapter 2, Shadow jumps at Green in an attempt to kill him. A similar pose is mirrored by Vio later in chapter 7 during his fight with Green. Perhaps intentional? (What do they have against Green??)

- Blue is the undeniable powerhouse of the team. He lands the final hit on Stone Arrghus, protects Red throughout the whole Temple of Light/Darkness (which I thought was really sweet, dude was not leaving Red behind no matter what), takes out Big Poe, and steps in to take down their father (so Green doesn’t have to). He also drops a bunch of Hinox into lava if we’re counting that. Pretty much all these instances did have help from the others in at least some capacity, but you can trust him to finish the job.

- The dynamic between Red and Vio, though not seen much due to Vio’s Evil Shenanigans and the team being split for multiple chapters, is surprisingly wholesome.  In chapter 2, shortly after receiving their names, Vio lists the obvious personality traits they all have, and pats Red on the head while smiling (which may or may not be his first genuine non-smug smile at this point?). Red seems to admire Vio, though honestly he’s like that with all of them. They seem to stand near each other a lot early on before the group is split. In chapter 3, when Red gets stuck in place and Stone Arrghus is about to attack him, Vio is the first to jump in between them to save Red. In chapter 8, Red runs to hug Vio after they get him back from Vio’s Evil Shenanigans (and Red also seemed to run to him for a hug in chapter 6, but because it’s not shown, Red probably stopped just short of giving him one). I really wish we got to see them interact more. 

- Speaking of Red and Vio, their speech bubbles in chapter 10 appear to have been flipped around. 

- Of all the Colors, Vio is the only one to never be shown crying. The closest he gets is when Green stomps his foot and his eyes tear up. Red cries all the time, Blue cries a few times but most notably when Green “dies”, and Green seems to be crying when their father “dies”. 

- Not so much an observation but just a question--are the fire rod and ice rod actually two different items, or just a toggle for the same rod?? Due to the lack of coloring, and the fact the rods look pretty much, if not completely the same, I can’t tell if the “click” that comes from it in chapter 7 (while they’re standing on Vio’s execution rock), is the fire rod being changed into an ice rod, or Red switching weapons all together just with a weird onomatopoeia (or potentially the “click” had nothing to do with the rod at all). 

- Though not super fleshed-out characters, the other knights of Hyrule showing up in the fight with Vaati to help out the Colors was a nice nod to the start of the story, what with the themes of teamwork and all that. They might not have been there on time, but they made it there eventually and got the Colors out of a tricky situation. Their unity is their strength, as they say. Also, shoutout to Link’s father, he’s doing his best and clearly loves his son(s)

- In one of the bonus comics, “It’s Not Easy Being Purple,” Vio is for some reason labeled as Green. This one bugged me when I noticed it.

- In the final bonus comic, “Fear Like Never Before,” I am convinced Vio’s Evil Shenanigans Part 2 would commence had Green not put the sword back in again. (Just look at his face. Why is he staring at the ground? Shadow??) 

- Red is best boy, moving on.

These are just some of the immediate things that come to mind when I’m rereading. I seem to get a new appreciation for each of the characters each time, so that’s really neat. Back when I was like 13, I only knew of a few pages of the fan translation, and of the characters I only really had a feel for Red’s whole deal, so he was my favorite (still is tbh). 

Now I can say I like all the characters, each for a different reason, and not to the same amount, but I don’t dislike or feel neutral about anyone like I used to. Green and Blue were really “meh” to me when I first acquired the manga a few months back, but honestly they’re both really interesting in ways I’ve only started to notice recently. 

I thought Blue was just angry all the time, but he pulls off a lotta cool shit constantly (not including the time he literally got frozen) and I think he does care about the others a lot even if he won’t admit it (his interactions with Red turning more soft is definitely an indicator). I wish we had gotten to see what his response to Red would have been back in the Temple of Light/Darkness when Red asked if he was even worried about Green and Vio. He was definitely worried, but someone had to be focused, and in that moment it had to be Blue. 

Or something, I’m not very good at character studies. I’ll stand by what I said about him caring for the others though.

Liking Green more is still on the newer side for me. Again, I never disliked any of them, but Green always came across as plain (since he doesn’t have any stand out character traits other than being the one who looked most like Link), so I tended to overlook him. The thing that got me to like him more actually was his body language. He is very expressive, be it his facial features or the way he moves. I love characters that emote in exaggerated ways, it’s also why I like Red so much, they share this in common. In particular, Green just has some funky poses I think are neat, like in chapter 5–he may be fighting for his life but his dodging is just so cartoony and bouncy, I want to see it animated. 

To some extent they all move like this, but with Green it’s nice since he’s not usually comic relief. It’s nice to have a “main” main character be just as goofy and cartoonish like the rest. 

And when it comes to Vio, I’ve always liked Vio. Finding out how unhinged he actually is was a treat, but it also was a really funny realization for me. I knew him as the serious bookworm, which isn’t entirely wrong, but he’s also a smug bitch who, had the narrative allowed him, would definitely have a kill count. In fact, he has only read one book, but it was in doing so that everyone latched onto the idea he loves reading. Love that for him. I also love the fact he’s a liar.

It’s like he got most of Link’s negative traits wrapped into one, and then they set him loose into the wilderness. It’s a miracle he didn’t kill anybody. He certainly tried. 

I do not have the words to explain how much I love Red. He’s adorable and so unapologetically emotional that it makes me happy. He’s just being himself, havin’ a good time. The others would have perished without him, I’m convinced (or, well, Blue would have frozen to death, Green would have died to the Hinox, and Vio would presumably continue living in his darkness-sponsored love affair with Shadow until he either killed one or both of them). 

This got longer than it was supposed to be whoops.

[see-arcane]

Lucy and Jonathan

“We met some time ago a man that would just do for you, if you were not already engaged to Jonathan.”

I’ll admit, while it probably wasn’t anything more than an airy throw-in without any real barbs behind it, the inflection on Lucy’s comment followed by the idle advertisement of upcoming character, Dr. John ‘Jack’ Seward, as a higher-up-the-ladder ‘what-if’ prospect, still kind of stung to hear. I know it’ll get sanded back in later chapters because—minor spoilers—context clues will show that Mina, Lucy, and Jonathan have known/been friendly with each other since they were kids, and comments from future letters will show a more mutual regard. So it makes me wonder what the reason for the implied derision was.*

*(Beyond her possibly trying to push Jack in a way that says ‘Nope, No, I Choose Not to See the Crush, No Thank You, Hot Potato.’)

My guess? It’s a bit.

Specifically, a holdover from hers, Mina’s, and Jonathan’s earlier days when all of them had grown into adolescence, social mores started getting hammered in in earnest, and Mina and Jonathan were just starting on their official courtship.

Suddenly, they’re no longer a trio of kids enjoying each other’s company. Now it’s two young ladies—one rich, one poor—and a charming young man—also from a lower class. Considering the period, it would be only too easy for whispers to start flying behind fans and cigars that the young Mr. Harker might consider leveling up his prospects, or that the lovely Miss Westenra, a veritable Victorian Helen of Troy, might idly snatch her low-born friend’s man out from under her nose on a whim. And aren’t they such a pretty picture? Quoting their Shakespeare at each other, so intriguingly close compared to most men and their ladies’ friends…unless there are certain extra friendly circumstances involved, ha ha.

A ribald comment too many from coworkers at Hawkins’ firm and a backhanded compliment or three at the latest spring ball probably shocked Jonathan and Lucy respectively into action. Bonus points if one of the inciting remarks came from some tittering debutante, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are so alike! Such sweet bonny things, parroting the Bard at each other, prattling merrily about the latest little outing without stopping for breath. Really, Lucy, he would just do for you.”**

**(Some have wondered if Lucy was nudging Jack toward Mina due to certain similar traits they shared. Some morose aspects, intensely focused, interests in modern technology. You’ll see when you meet him. Either way, it’s another parallel to ponder here.)

Cue Mina having to endure her loved ones defending her honor from being dubbed a victim of romantic betrayal in the most vaudeville manner possible. Though she should expect no less from Theatre Nerds 1 and 2.

When they go out, Mina is permanently sandwiched between them as if they’re ducking behind a red-faced shield. Lucy brandishes a parasol to ensure they’re at least the shaft’s length apart; sometimes she’ll even open it to make sure they’re not swayed by looking upon each other, may Heaven forbid such scandalous temptation! Jonathan sits on the bench with them with his hat pulled down over his eyes for safety’s sake. At least a quarter of an hour at the start of each outing is dedicated to a back-and-forth of:

Lucy, nose up so high she’s looking more at the ceiling than him: Mr. Harker.

Jonathan, checking his pocket watch to see how long he must endure this most arduous company: Miss Westenra.

Mina, head in her hands: It’s been months.

Lucy, scoffing: Months of torment in his presence.

Jonathan, scoffing harder: Agony in hers.

Lucy, on a fainting couch: However can you stand him, Mina?

Mina, about to pull her hair out of its pins: You helped him pick out the ring, Lucy.

Jonathan, picture of woe: Tormentedly, of course.

Lucy, nodding: Agonizingly.

In short, Jonathan 🤝 Lucy:

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

"Its cold you should take my jacket" with krobus mayhaps? I just think its a cute mental image BVNJ

Maybe theyre goin outside durin winter, and sure shadow people probably arent as effected by the cold but maybe it could still be a sweet gesture (the reader is going to freeze to death mild mistakes were made unless they're just the kinda person to go out in the winter shorts/joke)

-salt anon

YEAH Krobus time <3

Notes: Farmer and Krobus are established as roommates.

................

"The crocus are blooming nicely this winter...oh! Hello, little worms!"

Standing just a few feet away, you kept an eye out for any villager who might be walking around at this late hour, acting like a bodyguard for Krobus.

The last thing you wanted was for someone to freak out at his mere existence on the surface.

Ever since befriending the lonely shadow monster from the sewers, your perspective on his people (as well as most other monsters) changed drastically, opening up your eyes to the truth: that not all of them were violent brutes and assassins armed with crossbows and dark magic.

He was the first peaceful one you've come across, and he became the reason you try to avoid fighting any shadow people in the mines. Even if they became aggressive, you knew they were only acting defensively, never turning hostile unless you approached them first.

Of course, if you saw a human come charging at you with a sword or hammer...you'd be scared for your life, too. And if you had the means to protect yourself, you'd use them.

Krobus was once a fighter himself, until he decided to abandon those ways after the elemental wars, finding displeasure with his life beneath the surface. No longer could he find sanctuary in a place so terribly hot and miserable, fearing that an adventurer or Dwarf assassins will come slay what remained of his people. Thus, he laid down arms and took up becoming a humble merchant, living quietly and waiting patiently.

What he was exactly waiting for...he didn't know at the time.

But after you somehow found his little shop, checked on him after a fight with one such Dwarf, and presented him with the void ghost pendant....he finally realized what he wanted all along.

Companionship.

Something that he didn't expect to find in a human, of all creatures.

Yet on that fateful day, things changed for him yet again.

They were bigger, better, and the type of change that he needed for so long.

He never thought you'd like him as a housemate. After all, his existence alone was frightening to humans. He thought his wares would creep you out, or his strange habit of eating all the houseflies. He thought he'd be a burden on days where he wanted to help around your farm, but the humidity wasn't quite right and the air was a tad bit too dry for his skin. And he was convinced that touching your chickens and slimes would infect them with void energy and "ruin" Yoba's image of them.

There was even a time when he stood in front of your grandpa's shrine the night he moved in, asking aloud if he'd approve of this "living arrangement".

A year later, you two were still happily together, on the eve of the Winter Star festival, searching for the perfect crocus to put into his room's garden pot.

How he managed to order that online on your farm computer was beyond you..although he did mention Dwarf lending him a manual on how to operate such a device.

It seems they were finally willing to put the past behind them, albeit at no point did they ever mention fully forgiving each other, which was understandable.

"May I?" Bringing out the hoe, you looked to Krobus, who nodded and quietly shuffled away from the worms. You scraped the ground with your tool, unearthing-

"Another creepy doll, great.." You picked up the dirty, snow-covered toy. Its blue shirt and brown pants had only a few tiny tears in them, and the beady black eyes were seemingly staring into your soul. "Why do the people in this town leave these everywhere? Is it some ritual for them to be buried around the valley and found years later?"

"Hmm..I couldn't tell you." The shadow monster chuckled a little. "But they do bear resemblance to the dolls Dwarves have made for their children. Maybe they'd appreciate it as a gift......or it may be a grim reminder of what they've lost in the war..." His curl drooped a little.

"I gave them a green doll once, and they liked it. So it could be a good gift." You placed the doll in your bag, before turning back to Krobus. "Speaking of which...we could try attending the feast together. You could come in your usual disguise and-"

"I can't."

"......"

"Sorry, that sounded harsher than I intended." He meekly spoke, looking down at the snowy ground. "But going to the movies with you was nerve-wracking enough. Some of your friends were there..watching me, wondering who I was. To attend a festival with all of their eyes on us...I...I'm just afraid. If the guild master spotted me.....oh, Yoba."

Unwilling to finish, Krobus shuddered and hugged his body self-consciously. But at that same moment, the wind picked up, making him shiver a little bit more.

It made you frown, wishing he didn't look so distressed...and cold.

Poor thing.

Then an idea sprung on you, and you realized you could solve one of those problems right now.

He heard rustling and looked up, confused as to why you were shrugging off your jacket. "Huh? Why are you shedding....?"

"It's cold, you should take my jacket." Smiling, you wrapped it around his shoulders, seeing that it didn't totally envelop his body like his trenchcoat disguise did.

Almost right away Krobus picked up familiar scents on it: horseradish and pumpkin. Two of his favorite things.

Despite the smells being pleasant, he was absolutely bewildered by your kind gesture--and it turned into grave concern as he noticed the goosebumps already forming on your arms and legs. "[Y/n], my people are used to temperatures of either extreme. But yours aren't..are you sure you don't need-?"

"Krobus, I think we can both agree that I'm not like most of "my people."" You laughed gently, shaking your head. "I've worked outside on the hottest summer days and the coldest winter nights. I've been inside the ice castle of the mines and at the top of the volcano dungeon. This cold doesn't bother me anymore. I'm wearing shorts for Yoba's sake. I'll survive without my jacket for a few minutes as long as it helps you feel better. Is it...helping you?"

"...as a matter of fact, this does help. Thank you, my friend." He smiled back, feeling more at ease knowing you weren't gonna freeze to death at his expense. "I'll admit that the warm sewers have made me less accustomed to the chill of winter, but when it comes around..I try to sneak outside as often as I can."

"Maybe one day, you won't have to sneak around anymore, and everyone here can see you've been a great roommate of mine." Patting his head with your gloved hand, you chuckled as he perked up. "And...hopefully our blacksmith can stop asking me to beat up your skeleton friends. I'm starting to think he's running into them on purpose."

"It sickens me how many times I've seen that advertisement." He scowled. "The Skeletons don't make the mines dangerous...it's their home! They just want to be left in peace, with the riches they've guarded in life and now guard in death." Then he relaxed his shoulders, looking to you. "Thank you for not accepting anymore of his contracts."

"Of course, but..what about the wizard's contracts? I had to put some Ghosts to rest because he claims they're "upsetting the balance of the elements". I know they must be your friends, too."

"That's different..if an overabundance of creatures threaten to upset the elements, then they should be taken care of." Krobus nodded, still looking rather grim. "It's unpleasant, but necessary to ensure one species doesn't dominate the rest. Killing monsters so it's "safer" to strip the mines for gold and gems...is not necessary."

"I see." You nodded, looking around and spotting a nearby holly on the ground. Picking it up, you smiled and showed it to him, hoping to lighten the mood. "Another human tradition during this season involves holly. We hang it above our doorsteps, and whoever is under it should kiss. But...I don't think people in this town are familiar with it."

"Ah, how fascinating..." He looked at the plant in your hands, watching you stow it away into your backpack. "I never knew so much about humans until you came along, [y/n]."

"There's a lot to us. We're a..very complex species." You shrugged, before checking the time and realizing it was almost midnight. "Shoot. We should head back soon. I still gotta find something for my secret gift-giver."

"Maybe I can help you." He offered. "It's the least I could do, since I sadly cannot attend."

"I would enjoy it more if you could come, but I'll bring you back some pumpkin pie. And maybe we could...do our own little secret gift-giving?"

"That would be wonderful." Krobus beamed, feeling you wrap your hand around his clawed one, huddling close as you both headed back to the farmhouse..

Your home, which was now his home as well.

He thanked Yoba everyday that he got to share it with you.

[maxdreavus]

When the Moon Fell in Love With the Sun | Ch. 2

March x F!Farmer

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventual smut)

Chapter Summary: March and the farmer get shitfaced together.

Author's Note: I had an absolute blast writing this one hehehe. Enjoy some drunk March!!

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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After a long day of hammering silver, and after stopping home for a quick body rinse, some pain meds, and a less sweaty set of clothes, December headed over to the inn. 

She didn’t care much for dressing up, so her outfits tended to be more or less of the following: boots, jeans or shorts, a tank top, and unless it was summer, a jacket. Whether she was farming, mining, or going to the inn, she looked no different. The closest she got to being “trendy” in her own way was to accessorize and/or keep to a consistent palette, with a wardrobe mostly consisting of blues, blacks, whites and silvers. 

For tonight, she kept her hair in the ponytail she’d tied it into earlier; wore a black denim jacket, its back covered in patches she’d collected while traveling — be it for snowboarding, for the guild, or for leisure; a black camisole tucked into dark, ripped jeans; a silver chain, which she conjoined the belt loops on her right side with; and the same black combat boots she typically donned.

As expected, December was met past the Sleeping Dragon’s doors with the majority of the town’s residents. It wasn’t a Friday gathering, but going to the inn for soup and drinks on rainy or snowy days seemed to be the norm in Mistria. It was an unspoken tradition that she had grown fond of, and she drank in the sight of everyone having fun and hanging out while hooking her jacket up near the entrance.

Well, almost everyone. Olric and March were talking business with Eiland and Adeline, if the paperwork strewn across their table was anything to go by, so she figured she’d chill out at the bar before going to pester the brothers. 

After putting in a request with Hemlock to surprise her with something fruity, she was engulfed by two slim arms and an overwhelmingly floral scent.

“Hey!” December smiled, twisting in her seat to hug the source. She was one of her first and closest friends in town.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here!” Celine beamed back. 

She took the open seat next to December and practically asked for the same thing from Hemlock, making it a point to grab Jo and Reina’s attention and greet them too. December waved at the chefs, chuckling when they both flashed toothy smiles back at her.

Hemlock placed down the girls’ identical drinks as the interaction finished off. “Enjoy,” he winked at them before moving onto the next resident.

December sighed wistfully as she gazed into the bright blue, bubbly liquid. “He’s gonna kill me one of these days,” she muttered under her breath. 

Sure, her heart was somewhat (entirely) set on March, but it didn’t stop her from feeling immensely frazzled by the bartender. He was just so cool…

Celine giggled at the farmer’s state, but spared her a comment. She understood it completely: she’d once told December that, as kids, she would put on her fanciest dresses and have her mom braid her hair whenever Reina invited her to hang out at the inn, just because of the crush she had on their friend’s father. It lingered until her teenage years.

“Where were you today?” she asked. “I didn’t see you running around and getting stuff done like you usually do.”

When people described her that way, December imagined that they just saw her as a little dog, zipping through the streets to fetch things for treats... it wasn’t entirely wrong, she supposed.

Her beverage was just bordering on too sweet, but she liked it, and let it fully trickle down before she answered Celine. “Spent the day at the forge.”

“I’m surprised you could stand it for that long.” Celine winced while she took a sip from her own cup. After a moment of visible contemplation, she slid it towards December. “Don’t you hate it there?”

December shrugged, “Just the smithing part. The guys make it entertaining.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Celine mused, having recently become fully knowledgeable of December’s feelings for the redhead. She wiggled her eyebrows and rested her cheek in her palm.

“Oh gods.”

“You’re not denying it.”

December rubbed the inner corners of her eyes. “Stop talking.”

“I probably have some flowers you can bring him next time…”

Embarrassed that she knew March doesn’t actually like flowers, December simply continued, “Please stop talking?”

The blonde snickered, gratefully accepting a replacement drink in the form of red wine from Hemlock. She hadn’t even ordered one yet. “He’s good,” she breathed, watching him leave. 

It was at that moment that December began to think Celine’s crush on the innkeeper hadn’t entirely gone away.

Smiling at the thought, she suggested, “The best in Aldaria, perhaps?”

“Why are you talking about me?” March asked, appearing behind them. All the seats were taken, so he simply leaned against the counter between December and Terithia, who was deep in conversation with Landen.

December groaned. “Big head.”

Celine nodded, teasing, “The biggest.”

“It’s not that big.”

“Sure, physically, but metaphorically…” December trailed off, shrugging with a shit-eating look on her face.

March nudged her with his elbow, deadpanning as the farmer grinned. She returned the gesture before turning to face Celine on her other side. 

She looked smug, like she had something to say.

December narrowed her eyes at her.

“You can take my spot, March,” Celine told the blacksmith. Her gaze stayed on December’s while she spoke, “I think I heard Juni calling me from upstairs.”

December’s mouth gaped for a moment at the blatant lie before prodding, “Oh, did she?”

Celine dodged the question with a light pat to her friend’s head. “See you later!” 

Traitor…

“I didn’t hear it,” March concurred as he swapped spots with the florist.

“Maybe your ears suck.”

“You didn’t either, smartass.”

“Yeah, whatever.” December peered down at the two drinks before her. “Want this?” she asked, sliding Celine’s abandoned one toward him.

“What is it?”

December shrugged, making a noise in place of an “I don’t know.” She took a sip before concluding, “It’s real sweet, though.”

Ignoring the urge to taste it from her lips, and silently cursing himself for even thinking about that, March took up the offer, drowning his feelings by downing the glass.

December’s mouth hung open again. “What the fuck?” she laughed, gobsmacked.

March grunted in approval. “That’s good. Oi, Hemlock,” he called out from across the bar. 

The man reappeared from somewhere beneath the counter, an empty cup in hand. “Yeah?” he responded on his way over.

“What’s this called?” he asked, snatching December’s drink — while she was going for another sip, no less — and holding it up.

Hemlock laughed at the interaction before shrugging and telling him, “Don’t know yet,” then nodded to December, “This snow angel was my test dummy.”

The snow angel silently cursed him for warming her cheeks with that nickname. March noticed it and felt a smidge of jealousy. 

“You want one?” Hemlock offered.

“Two, please.” 

“Why do y—“ December stopped her train of thought when March took a sip from her cup, glaring at her over the rim of the glass. She heard Hemlock laugh as he walked away. 

___

It took less than an hour for the pair to be plastered, with December being just as much of a lightweight as March. They’d relocated to a table — March sat at the head, with December and Ryis on one side, and Olric and Balor across from them — but kept their focus mainly on each other.

Most recently, it was in the form of an arm wrestle.

Fairly tipsy himself, Ryis began treating it far too seriously. While December stretched her hands and shoulders, she took in his pep talk from beside her. 

“I think you can— no,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “I know you can win this.” Whether he believed it or not, he and December were both unsure, but it didn’t stop him from doing his best to encourage the farmer. 

“I can win this,” she reaffirmed, her brows furrowed and eyes swimming with determination. 

“You are crazy strong,” he kept going.

“I am crazy strong.”

“You are powerful.”

“I am… kinda power—“

“Hey, hey,” he grabbed her by both shoulders now, pressing his forehead to hers to really drive the point home, “you are powerful!” 

With a determined huff, and after grabbing his shoulders too, she nodded. 

“Why don’t I get a cool pep talk?” March asked nobody in particular. “Is it ‘cause you all know I’m gonna win anyway?”

December let go of Ryis and turned away to stare daggers at March. He narrowed his eyes right back until Olric cut in, “I believe in you, bro!” 

March’s fiery gaze darted to the blue-haired merchant. “You’re awfully quiet, Balor.”

“Can’t I just enjoy the show?” 

December’s scowl shifted to him, too. He was unfazed, only grinning in return.

“Alright, alright,” March started, “alright.” He lightly nudged December’s shoulder with his fingertips. “Alright?”

“Alright,” December held back a giggle as she spoke, nodding curtly.

“Alright.”

March took his position at the very edge of his seat and with his elbow on the corner of the table, with December doing the same before clasping her palm with his. Their knees touched in the middle, and even with the wood between them, there was plenty of open area.

December knew after being reminded just how large and thick March’s hands were — those things were like damn clubs, probably thanks to his work — that she was doomed to fail. Even if she could manage to out-muscle him some other way, the sheer weight of his grip would probably ruin this for her. 

She did her best to ignore that, though, and put on the silliest, cockiest face she could manage while she locked onto the blacksmith’s eyes.

March wanted to just win this already — gods, he needed to win — but broke at the sight of his opponent’s expression, snorting and leaning the side of his head onto their tangled forearms. 

“Can— pfft— can you take this seriously, sir?”

March shook his head before sitting back up to the best of his ability. “Your face!”

The farmer played dumb. “What about it?” 

“You just—“ March barked out a quick laugh before imitating December. 

It broke her immediately. Her cackling only made March laugh harder, and they both keeled over, bumping heads in the process.

“Ow!” they exclaimed simultaneously, only worsening the situation. 

When their eyes met just a few inches apart, both pairs were filled with tears, and noticing that forced a second wind. December tried to blink away the wetness on her eyelashes, completely folding in on herself before March draped his upper body over hers.

It was weird, she thought even in her drunken haze, feeling the rumble of his laughter through her back.

It felt cozy.

She ignored that. “Ha! Get off me, dude!”

While March and December continued their bickering and laughing, seemingly forgetting the other three were there, their tablemates simply watched on, laughing to themselves.

“It’ll never stop being strange, seeing them like this…” Balor observed. While his face only housed his usual lopsided grin, with no more than a dignified chuckle leaving his throat, he was thoroughly amused by the sight before him.

“Right?” Olric beamed, “They’re both so nonchalant, usually.”

“Well, she is,” Ryis agreed while pointing his thumb at the girl next to him. “I don’t know if I would call an angry gremlin ‘nonchalant.’”

“Hey!” March sat up, having sensed the others talking about him. He kept his forearm in December’s back, holding her down while she hopelessly tried to bat it away, and pointed over her, getting the digit as close to Ryis as he could manage. “Who are you calling a gremlin?”

“You, dumbass!” December answered in the carpenter’s place, her shout thoroughly muffled by her thigh. Ryis nodded into his next sip of beer before nearly spitting it out as March noogied the woman’s spine. “Ow— ow, quit it!” 

She managed to reach March’s oblique, tickling him in hopes that it would trigger the end of her suffering. As fun as this was, it did hurt. He had no idea that December had been through what she had, though, so she couldn’t exactly blame him for not knowing she was a bit fragile. 

“Fuck!” March yelped, his laughter ramping back up while he scrambled away. He would have fallen out of his seat if Olric wasn’t so quick to hoist him upright.

Just a table away, Luc, Maple and Dell gasped and giggled at the smith’s choice language, and were now thoroughly invested in his and December’s antics.

“Are they fighting?!” Dell asked Ryis, who she was closest to, all too excitedly.

“Sure, something like that,” he laughed, ruffling the young lady’s hair.

“She should use a sword.” Dell stood up onto her seat, removed her own from her pocket, and began waving it through the air at nobody in particular. “That’ll show‘im!”

Luc sighed. “If only I could give her some bugs to unleash on him…”

“Why can’t you?” Maple asked her brother.

“They’re probably sleeping! I already said goodnight to them.”

“I declare you awaken them at once!”

“No, they need their rest!” Dell interjected, pointing her stick — sorry, her sword at Maple. “If they’re gonna be part of the Dragonguard someday, they need to be strong and healthy.”

“You dare defy your queen?” Maple giggled, standing up and slamming her palms to the table, sloshing some of her milkshake over the side of its glass. 

Luc placed his chin on his hands, shaking his head. “Oh no…”

Back at the other table, March and December were finally winding down and beginning their battle. 

“Wait,” December asked, squeezing his hand as if it was going to leave. “What are the stakes?”

“Fuck if I know.” He flashed her a goofy smile. “I just wanna beat you.”

After swallowing a hiccup, she groaned. “So it’s just bragging rights?”

Olric, determined to play matchmaker, practically felt the lightbulb turn on in his otherwise rock-filled head. “Why doesn’t the loser walk the winner home?”

“That’s so far, though…” 

“So you admit defeat, then?” March prodded. 

December practically growled. “Fat chance!”

With that, their tussle had finally begun… and was over just as quickly as it started.

“Best two out of three,” December insisted. 

March was about to happily take the crown, but her big, sad eyes — a result of her fatally wounded pride — convinced him to go a little easy on her. 

He never thought he’d see the day where he was willing to give up a win just for someone else’s sake. Neither did the others. The three of them shared a knowing look.

“Fine,” the redhead sighed. “Round two, come on.” He wiggled his fingers, prompting December back into position.

She shot his hand a dirty look that made him giggle. “Eugh,” she reacted, taking hold of it anyway. “Don’t do that, y’little creep.”

“What, you can’t handle a little finger action?” March winked. 

The realization hit him like a train.

Oh no.

He dropped his shit-eating grin and froze, his eyes wide; December’s immediately followed suit, her cheeks and ears darkening several few shades beyond what the alcohol could ever achieve on its own; and beside them, all three men’s mouths hung open. Then, December averted her view and yelped an explosive laugh into her free palm, hiding her face to the best of her ability while her opposite hand clutched March’s with white knuckles. 

“Wait, wait,” March scrambled, laughter bubbling in his throat while his eyes darted between the four people around him, “hold on—“

Olric was the first to respond verbally, an incredulous smile on his lips. “Wow!”

Ryis tried to react, but was doubled over in a near-silent fit of laughter. 

This stole Dell’s attention again, and while she didn’t know what was going on, she patted the man on the back in a poor attempt at comforting him. It was her sworn duty as Mistria’s future best knight ever, after all. Through broken giggles, he thanked her, but politely redirected her attention back to her friends.

“On that note,” Balor announced, “good luck and goodnight,” before retiring upstairs.

[goresplosion]

Daan/Levi drabble request: Levi finding out about Daan's sweet tooth <3

Sorry I'm kind of behind schedule on this one, I’m worried its kind of nothingburger but I don’t want to leave your requests hanging either aaa;; Used the Levi old town shop party talk as a jumping off point for this. Please dispense your disbelief in how early the trend of hotel mints was established (google says it was the 1950s and used to be chocolates instead of mints)

“They don’t seem too well stocked” Daan muttered to Levi as he looked around the newly opened old town store. Cardboard boxes stacked against a shelf rather than any proper display.

He approached the clerk “Excuse me, is what's in those boxes for sale?” 

“Yetakealookaround”

Daan nodded and made his way towards the boxes, Levi trailing close behind as he always did. 

“They have a lot less than they used to…” he pointed out as he rummaged through the boxes. In their short time together it had been proven rare for Levi to ever speak up without having been first addressed.

“Well people tend to buy up everything they can before rough times hit, though that would imply anyone knew this was coming beforehand” Daan pondered “So, any stories about this place?”

 "The other kids at the orphanage used to have this plan on how to shoplift some candy from this kiosk..."

Daan nodded, encouraging him to continue his story.

"One would order something that required the clerk to reach the top shelves, while he was occupied with that the others would shove as much candy as possible to our pockets..."

“And were you part of that group?” Daan asked him

“Sometimes, there wasn’t really much else to do… It worked pretty well until the clerk hammered a nail through the palm of a kid who was caught still gouging the candy jar..."

Daan hissed at the thought of that though it did not entirely surprise him. He knew well how theft was used as justification to be physically cruel to children. 

“This clerk?” he asked in a hushed tone.

Before Levi could respond to him they were interrupted by loud banging, the bandaged man bashed his baby doll’s head against the shop counter repeatedly. Just as suddenly as he started he stopped his assault on the thing and returned to swaddling it as if nothing had happened.

Daan and Levi stared at him in surprise, then at each other for a moment before they turned back to the boxes.

“Shopkeepers are always on the lookout for thieving kids even though they’re the ones stealing the most inconsequential things, just waiting to enact revenge on the first target that can’t fight back. I remember being chased away from even looking at candy displays when I looked too poor to pay, window shopping is a privilege only those with enough money to dress well seem to get” Daan rambled.

“At that time the only way I ever got my fix was from a patient of mine, she’d been robbed and only had a hotel chocolate to pay me with. I treated her regardless of course, would stop by her street corner every night hoping she might still feel grateful enough to give me another. Most nights she wasn’t there but the nights she was were one of the bright spots in my life” he reminisced.

“Hotel chocolates?” 

“Single squares of chocolate, they leave on your pillow.”

“I didn’t know they did that… I’ve never stayed at one.”

“Not all of them do, only the high end ones. I’ll take you to one someday. Did you find anything we need?” Daan stood up with a few medical supplies in his arms. 

Levi shook his head, they paid for the goods and left the store. Once they were back out in the old town Levi fished out a wrapped hard candy from his pocket and presented it to Daan.

“It’s not chocolate… Sorry it was the only one I could find.”

“Did you steal that from the kiosk? We would have had enough to buy it, you know.”

“Just… Seems like a waste of money right now”

“Well you should have it then, doubt we’ll come across anymore and you’re the one who did the work”

“I don’t really like candy…”

“So it’s just about the thrill for you?” Daan smirked.

“... Sorry I thought you’d want it… I’ll just go throw it away…” Levi fidgetted. 

“I’m just teasing love, thank you Levi you’re too sweet” Daan accepted the gift and popped the candy into his mouth and gave Levi a reassuring ruffle of his hair for good measure.

[otakween]

Digimon Tamers - Volume 4

The beginning of this volume flat out spoils things by putting characters that haven't been introduced yet on the character page. (MarineAngemon, the Juri clone, the D-Reaper queen...) Maybe that's a common practice with shounen manga...but it shouldn't be. Like, what's the point?

Ch. 22

Lopmon and Terriermon interacting will never get old. Love how they lift their ears with curiosity when they first see each other.

I think I prefer experiencing the ~sad~ part of Tamers better in manga form. I remember it being quite drawn out in the anime and I rather just blitz through it at this point. I think the whole Leomon death storyline just annoys me because they barely developed his character and then the writing expects me to be devastated. Juri was more developed, sure, but we barely got any insight into her relationship with Leomon so her deep, dark depression doesn't feel super warranted either.

Ch. 23

I think this chapter was pretty well done. They're giving an epic battle it's time instead of zooming past it.

It bugs me that there isn't a specific name for digimon/human digivolutions. In this translation they called it a "true mega form." On the wiki it's called both an ultimate and a matrix digivolution. IDK why it doesn't count as a jogress. I guess there's like...two different things: the way you digivolve (matrix) and the digivolution level (ultimate)? If it's confusing for me, I can only imagine it'd be confusing for a kid.

It's a bit weird for an English translation, but I like that Guilmon says "MMA!" a lot. I can totally hear him making that noise with his OG voice. Creative onomatopoeia.

Ch. 24

Grrr Jian said "crumbcakes," so done with this stupid translation

This chapter was hella short, not much to say about it.

Ch. 25

Okay, now they're calling it a "biomerge digivolution." I guess the localizers also thought "this needs a cool name!"

Casual 90s/early 2000s sexism sprinkled throughout this translation. Takato says he "screams like a little girl" in a previous chapter and in this one he says "easy to forget Renamon and Rika are girls when they're always kicking butt!" Eye roll...

SaintGalgomon looked super badass but for some reason when Sakuyamon appeared they chose to dedicate two closeup panels to her chest and high heels? Sus...

Ch. 26

Juri's face didn't look as sinister here as it did in the anime (when it's revealed she's possessed). I guess that's probably a good thing. More subtle.

I don't remember the sovereign digimon giving Culumon a "you're a real boy now" speech in the anime. That was sweet.

They cut the part where Beelzebumon gets zapped by a bunch a digimon. In this he just collapses after the battle with Dukemon, which I think I prefer. (But why'd he say he'd be "bunny chow?" He wasn't even fighting Terriermon...)

Ch. 27

The grotesque, over-the-top facial expressions the artist keeps drawing for Hirokazu piss me off. They're just so ugly.

Ugh...they really had to ruin a serious moment (Guilmon getting the ark to stop) with a poop joke. This manhua does NOT treat its audience with respect.

Hmm they completely cut out Juri's family. So much for developing her character I guess.

They kind of forgot to imply that the ark is sentient. I mean they showed it stopping on its own, but in the anime they really hammered it home by having Guilmon have a conversation with it and showing it's HAL-like eye. That was one of my fave parts so I'm sad lol

Ch. 28

Okay, this is starting to feel totally different from the anime, they skipped like 5 episodes worth of content. Also, IDK if the scanlation I'm reading is missing some pages because the ending with Dukemon being beat up was completely nonsensical (it cut from Beelzebumon being hit to a panel with Dukemon outta nowhere?) I'll give it the benefit of the doubt that there are missing pages...

The scene where Beelzebumon uses Leomon's attack to save Juri played out differently here. She doesn't seem particularly perturbed by it and Beelzebumon can't save her because he gets attacked, not because Juri recoils for too long.

Ch. 29/30

Lol they completely cut out Justimon. Makes Ryo's role even more pointless! Ryo doesn't even reappear at all...

This manhua series was crap to begin with but they really screwed the pooch with this ending. SOOO rushed. Grani appeared outta nowhere with zero introduction. Like they just went immediately to Grani's sacrifice. I still don't know if I'm missing pages or if the writing is just that garbage. Oh well! I tried.

[ddelline]

(I) fear (this wip is driving me insane) friday

blurb | since we're likely not getting a whole DvK3 (even though I am still hope-pilled and holding out for The Conversation) in the epilogue I am writing it myself. well I mean, this is something I wanted to write the second we got to the first ch of the post-epilogue epilogue, but now it seems more fitting than ever. anyway it's ch 2/2 of a wound gives off its own light. I had a bit of writer's block until tonight and now I've written 4k of this, so here. will hopefully have this edited & posted by the end of the weekend, alt early next week. short n sweet but I'd rather not give 2 much away

premise | izuku controlling his heart (to the point where he goes overboard abt it bc he's so Damn Extra *okamoto nobuhiko voice*) and a recently emotionally cognizant bakugō no kacchan attempting to pry some emotion out of him w a crowbar

It’s the ironic scenario to end all ironic scenarios that brings them to a head.

It’s a Wednesday evening much like any other. They’ve been reintegrated into the class since a few weeks; helping with the relief efforts, Katsuki and his chafing full length arm brace and guilt, Izuku and his fuckass placid expression and lack of OFA. They’d broken the sort of-curfew for Uraraka, dumb rushing after a green-crackling Izuku from the recently settled UA campus up the ruined streets and lilting hill to the now-defunct Fortress Troy.

They’d settled afterwards much like the world expects of them, but not like Katsuki wants them to. He wants a chemical reaction. The tension and the spark; the event and the catalyst.

It had been nothing and everything as they filed into the common room after a long, sweaty, lid hammered down on top of feelings-day of clean up and damage control. And then it had been something, at the very tail end of the day.

They’d scoured the perimenter of the days' assigned cleanup sector, and come to a sudden still at the fence that, despite everything, still preceded the shallow forest and river that Katsuki wishes didn’t mark such a significant portion of himself.

Izuku ducked for the drooping metal-stitched fence like it was nothing, gaze cutting clear and unbothered across the sunset burnished-trees ahead.

Katsuki experienced a blackout until the moment when he’d felt himself crushing bone and tendon in Deku’s forearm, fingers wound so tight he hazarded they’d snap right alongside what he was attempting to grind to dust.

“Izuku,” he chalked out, hoarse and horrible.

“Kacchan?” Izuku quizzed back.

“This—” he cut himself off. “The river. This is where we—”

Izuku waited patiently. Nodded a little. He looked far ahead again. “Yeah. I’m glad it’s still in one piece. We used to come here a lot, didn’t we?”

Katsuki reared back. He didn’t want it to be a visceral reaction. But. “You don’t remember?”

Izuku tilted his head quizzically. “Remember what?”

Are you hurt? Can you stand?

He remembered the bright gurgle of a creak; the slosh, slosh, slosh of someone breaking through rushing water. Birds tweeting overhead; midday sun beating down across the width of little Katsuki’s shoulders. Shit.

“You really don’t remember?”

Izuku tilted his head. “I remember a lot of things.” A non-answer to a burning question. “We used to chase butterflies and collect bugs. I remember once when you almost dislocated your knee jumping from the branch of a tree. I thought it was so cool. Still kinda do.” He laughed. It was restrained; a polite show of remembering, more than it was the affected reaction to a cherished memory. It made Katsuki’s breath hitch, stomach squirm. “Kacchan sure always was amazing.”

Here is the kicker: Bakugō Katsuki is a changed man.

Well, he’s an enlightened brat. Still, he’s got something to show for that, so when he sucked his teeth and said, “Whatever,” it wasn’t because he was a repressed loser asshole. It was because there’d been a viscerally vivid memory at the fore of his mind—a core memory that’s shaped who he goddamn is from the age of four up till today, age sixteen—and its lead actor had just brushed it off. Intentional or not, it made something coil tighter in his sternum.

“Right,” he muttered and pushed ahead, even as his brain had been swimming with technicolor recollection and nauseous guilt.

Cut to a few hours later: they’d collectively decided to not shy away from the aftermath of the war. Being coddled isn’t gonna serve anyone, and anyway it’s so difficult to as much as step foot outside of Heights Alliance without catching a whiff of post-war debates and LoV post-mortems. The TV in the common room had been on low volume since the past half hour, reiterating some or other Western movie from yesteryear about clear-cut, black-and-white heroes and villains. It made Katsuki snort and feel derisive, but for the most part he tuned it out.

It was sort of difficult, though. Not for the first time, but it was certainly the first time he’d felt it hit so close to home. The forest, the river—Izuku either not remembering or blocking the memory out; it hit harder than he expected. Slumping down in the couch, still towelling his damp hair with one arm, seeing the top right of the screen flash with an impending mini-documentary about the rise of All For One and the era of nu age-villainy—

It unearthed something murky in his guts.

Katsuki’d become intimately aware of the fact that Izuku was perched on the edge of the couch then, looking a little tight in the edges but overall none the worse for wear. He’d towelled his hair dry much the same, a white strip of terrycloth slung over uncovered shoulders and rubbing absently across his neck. The TV swapped from credits to a montage of bleakly edited footage of a young Shigar—Shimura Tenko—stepping out of Kurogiri’s warp gate into USJ. Subtitles told Katsuki the narrator was speedrunning through a brief introduction, elaborating on the subject of the documentary as well as its primary subject: ‘Shigaraki Tomura: Devastating Anomaly or Causal Nexus?’

“Oh, sh—” exclaimed Kirishima, God bless and curse him. “We can change the channel, it’s not—”

“It’s okay, Kirishima-kun,” said Izuku quickly, interrupting whereas before he would’ve waited the sentence out. “It’s really okay.”

In hindsight, Katsuki’s not sure why he decided that that was well enough. Why that was the last straw. But it was. He’d waited it out for a bit, kept rubbing from the back of his neck up to the crown of his scalp with the towel, eyes flicking across the screen but unseeing. More of a crowd started to amass at a certain point; Kirishima, Jirō, Yaomomo, Hagakure and a slew of others joined him on the couch. Katsuki kept his gaze trained on the TV. Unseeing but following.

At commercial break he’d pushed off and up. Most gazes followed him up, but silently. Katsuki slung his towel around his shoulders, twisted sideways and paced the length of the couch. At the end he stooped low, care levels hovering between little to no fucks, and murmured by Izuku’s ear: “We’re gonna do this the hard way, huh?”

Izuku, to his discredit, looked bewildered. “We’re—huh?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Ground Beta. After lights. Don’t be obvious. This isn’t a spectacle.”

Translation: this isn’t for the whole class.

He figured Izuku would understand.

He did.

[camplofi]

BSOTS 178 - Creative Commons Gems From Public Enemy And Nikki Giovanni

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This episode's track list (title / artist / source / license):

1.  Old Futuro Blues by Yoko Absorbing [Free Music Archive] (CC BY-NC-SA 3.0)

2.  Zo0o0o0p​!​!​! feat. Oddisee by Kidkanevil [Bandcamp] (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)

3.  All I Know (Featuring Big Remo and The Hamiltones) by Wals [blocSonic] (CC BY-NC-SA 4.0)

4.  Dance of Contradictions by Isak Gaines [Bandcamp] (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)

5.  Ridiculous Love (wetSkin Hot Summer ReMix) by Niki J Crawford [Jamendo] (CC BY-NC-ND 3.0)

6.  In The Spirit Of Martin by Nikki Giovanni [Free Music Archive] (CC-BY-NC-SA 3.0)

7.  Get Up Stand Up (Featuring Brother Ali) by Public Enemy [blocSonic] (CC-BY-NC 3.0)

Looking back over the last ten shows for the BSOTS podcast feed, eight of them featured at least one Creative Commons licensed tune.  Even after more than 15 years of podcasting, the CC music landscape still feels like largely uncharted territory for me, which is probably why I've felt the need to dig through the online crates to see what I can find.  In addition, I've been listening to prior BSOTS episodes from over a decade ago, revisiting the music that I have played on the show and taking note of the songs that still sound great to me so that I can reintroduce them on future episodes.  This show marks Camp Lo-Fi's long overdue return to the feed and is where my CC music appreciation agenda kicks into high gear.  The seven songs featured are a mix of tunes from prior BSOTS episodes alongside selections receiving their first spins, cutting across genre and released between 2009 and 2023.

The blocSonic netlabel opened my eyes and ears to the world of CC licensed music.  It was through their netBloc series of compilations that I was introduced to a network of artists and online labels, most of it (if not all) available to freely download and share.  The blocSonic offerings in this episode are courtesy of last year's album from Wals and a stellar cut from Public Enemy (as heard on netBloc vol. 44), featuring the always on-point lyricism of Chuck D and special guest Brother Ali.  Another notable hip-hop moment is "Zo0o0o0p​!​!​!," the brief but absolutely banging cut from Kidkanevil featuring Oddisee, a ridiculously talented emcee and producer whose music I've been championing on this show for well over a decade.  Isak Gaines moves us into the unpredictable and experimental side of jazz with "Dance Of Contradictions," a song that sonically lives up to its title.  A bouncy yet broken groove for the first half of the song gives way to a beatless abyss of sound effects and saxophone screeches before bringing the hammer down with a distorted bass line and a defiant horn section.

Niki J Crawford's "Ridiculous Love" was an unexpected surprise that I stumbled upon over on Jamendo, a sultry soul offering made all the more seductive with the wetSkin Hot Summer ReMix.  It's percussion heavy with a slight Brazilian influence and a breezy shuffle topped with acoustic guitar strums and Niki's powerhouse vocals.  Yoko Absorbing's "Old Futuro Blues" is a short, sweet, and somewhat off-kilter cut that lives in repeated moments of loops, locked grooves, and live instrumentation.  And there's probably no better example of the sonic treasures waiting to be discovered over at the Free Music Archive than live recordings of legendary poet Nikki Giovanni.  "In The Spirit Of Martin" is her ode to not only the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., but to the struggle and perseverance of the Civil Rights movement as a whole.

If you're Creative Commons curious but have been unsure where to start looking, hopefully episodes like these can demystify this world of music one song at a time.  Thank you so much for listening.

Other key info: Theme music produced by Cy Tru and edited by Macedonia.  ID drop courtesy of DarrenKeith.

The content of this show has been released under a CC-BY-SA license.  All works within this show retain their original releases.  See the show notes at bsots.com for more information.

Another BSOTS podcast episode for the people...

[ichijager13]

Teach me how to be loved

Chapter V

I've got much more than that, like my memories, I don't need that

Pairing : Eren Jäger x reader, Reiner Braun x reader

Characters: Eren Jäger, reader.

Masterlist, AO3,  Playlists : Reader’s POV, Eren’s POV

Tags: Unhealthy copping mechanism, unhealthy relationships, childhood trauma, physical and verbal abuse, self-esteem and trust issues, domestic violence, implied/ referenced cheating and a touch of sweet, lovable and non fuckboy Eren Jäger, german speaker Eren brought to you by Lana Del Rey’s songs

It was getting dark, your eyes drifted to the window once again, watching the storm raging outside. You silently thanked whoever is in charge it didn’t start until you got home.

You brought your attention back to your painting. Standing in the middle of your workshop, you were dressed in a pair of khaki shorts that have known better days and one of Reiner’s shirts. There was something wrong with your painting but you couldn’t name it. you approached a little scanning each line and curve your brush produced before stepping back to give it a more panoramic look. But you were too distracted to spot it. matter of fact, you found it impossible to focus on anything throughout the day.

You took a brush and dipped it in the palette thinking about the dream you had last night. You always remember your dreams. Not because you have a strong memory but because you don’t dream often. Most of the time you fall into a comatose sleep or have nightmares.

Last night’s dream was about what you jokingly call the spring days of your life. Now that you think about it, maybe it’s the reason why you were dressed in his T-shirt. Maybe it is the reason why you chose brighter colors today.

Unlike now, you weren’t alone in your dream. He was with you, leaning against the door frame telling you about his day. in that dream, you were smiling giddily while making dinner. You try to remember what made you smile. A joke he cracked? A compliment? Or only the fact that you weren’t alone? perhaps it was because you realized you were in love?

Love, a word that has always felt foreign to you. did you love him? And what about him? He did say he loves you, but did he mean it?

You shook your head trying to chase those dark ideas. You had no desire to taint those memories as well. you have enough dark and painful memories, there was no need to stack others on top of them.

Last night’s dream was another pathetic attempt of your subconscious to remind you of one of your sweet memories, one of those it refuses to let go of.

With a deep breath, you attempted to focus on the task at hand. You stepped closer, and the sound of your feet hitting the cold floor was so low, barely perceptible. but its echo was dramatically distorted resulting in the sound of someone hammering a closed door. The hammering sound was mixed with loud and aggressive words degrading the person hiding behind the closed door.

You pressed your brush against the painting before you let it slide. Your movements were slow and cautious at first. However, your brush’s swipes became more frantic and violent as the tempo of the symphony grew faster. At this point, you didn’t even recognize which one you were listening to. You were focused on something else, another muffled sound. A sound barely audible but that you could easily make out through the loud noises. Someone is sobbing, the person hiding behind the closed door is sobbing. Your fingertips became white from how tight you were holding the painting utensil as you lost control of yourself, of the rush coursing in your veins. You lost the notion of time and space and you lost track of your thoughts.

Right now, everything was mixed in your head, the melody coming from your stereo, the violent large hands knocking at the closed door, the storm outside, the hectic sobs from behind the closed door, your uneven breathing, the pleas and insults, and the faint noise caused by the friction of the brush against the canvas. You were moving like you were possessed and maybe that’s what you are. Possessed by all your yesterdays. Forever haunted by your nightmare and broken dreams. Lost in the middle of all the what-ifs that once crossed your mind.

It has always been like this, whenever you find yourself alone, your memories start creeping in slowly. It always starts with a sweet memory before it turns into something dark and scary. It always starts with Reiner’s hazel eyes, those very eyes you found safety in them before they turn into cold and hard ones. And you allow it, this room is the only place you make peace with your past. You only let yourself ignite and be consumed at a leisurely pace by music when you are in this room. Each time you step into this room, you embrace the shadows you normally escape. You authorize yourself to immerse in the forbidden waters, and you permit yourself to flirt with the monsters hiding under your bed. here, is the only place where your demons can show their true colors.

You were pouring every bit of feeling you experienced at the moment when you noticed the music had stopped. Frowning, you took off your headset before heading toward your phone.

Someone was calling you. Eren was calling you.

It took you a while to remember who he was and to get yourself to take the call.

“Good evening”. his voice was as warm and deep as usual. “How are you?”

“Hello, fine, and you?” you did your best to sound natural.

“I’m doing good, I’m sorry about the other day”. he started; he was talking about when he gave you back your notebook. It happened three days ago, but it felt like years have passed since that day. “I had an emergency at home. If you are free tomorrow, I would love to invite you for a drink to make it up for last time”.

Tomorrow was a Friday; you usually go out looking for your weekly distraction on Friday nights. Thinking you might have enough time to have a drink with him and go out you decided to accept. “Works for me”. you answered.

“Would you like to meet at the same coffee or do you prefer somewhere else?” he inquired.

“Let’s meet there, I liked the place. 5 pm?”

“Perfect, see you tomorrow”. He wished you a good night with his cheerful tone before hanging up.

After the call ended, you found yourself seated on the floor with your legs crossed. You tried to resume work but your mind refused to focus. Your thoughts kept drifting. Defeated, you silently contemplated the result of your work.

“I didn’t know you can draw”. He spoke taking the piece of paper from your hands. “This is amazing”. He followed eyes going back and forth between you and your sketch. “You should try and develop this gift, darling”. His voice was warm and full of love. he reached for your face and pecked your cheek and then your lips. A couple of days later, he came back home holding a paper bag containing your first sketchbook.

Your eyes fluttered open, feeling uneasy you sat and reached for the bottle of wine you opened before you dozed off. you took a long gulp squeezing your eyes shut. You knew what was going to follow. You knew it was coming, you were certain but you weren’t ready, you never were, even after all this time.

“Are you fucking serious?” even though he wasn’t screaming as usual, his voice was harsh. “You must be kidding”. He was in the living room. “What were you doing. It’s 8 pm, how come dinner is not ready?” And all of a sudden everything became quiet. He always terrifies you when he goes silent. Despite the fear, you risked a glance from outside the kitchen. He was standing in front of the coffee table. And you knew something is going to happen. “You can’t be serious”. It started; you heard his footsteps rushing to the kitchen. Afraid he might catch you peeping, you hurried back to the countertop and resumed cooking. “You’re telling me that I go and bust my ass working two jobs after school and finish at such a late hour to come back home and find nothing to eat”. he screamed before something crashed against the wall next to you. you tried your best to remain calm, to not scream, and to stop your hands from shaking. “Because Miss here, instead of making dinner, like she is supposed to, spent the day drawing stupid sketches”. You continued chopping the vegetables as fast as you could. You tried to focus on the task at hand and pretend like he wasn’t screaming. You urged yourself to not lose your grip. To finish as soon as possible. You jumped in your place when you felt his hand on your shoulder. “Look at me”. He gritted; the tone of his voice suddenly dropped becoming scarier. You knew he is going to do something but you looked at him anyway. Cause you will only make things worse if you don’t. “This way, you won’t waste your time”. Your eyes widened in horror watching the flames devouring your notebook, the one he offered you a year ago. “When I say dinner must be ready when I get back home”. He grabbed your face violently. “It better be fucking ready”. He gritted before pushing you. your head hit the handle of the drawers but you didn’t dare to utter a sound. You only baited your bottom lip trying to contain the cry that was threatening to roll off your tongue. “Useless bitch”. He shouted before rumbling outside of the kitchen. Frozen, you remained in your place until you heard him slam the door shut.

You instinctively caressed the scare behind your ear. Your fingertips continued massaging that spot absent-mindedly as tears made their way down your face.

With shaking hands, you reached for the bottle and poured yourself another glass. You took one gulp after the other trying to turn off your mind. You tried to regulate your breathing and stop crying. You tried to think about happy stuff that wasn’t related to him. things like you’re the books you bought yesterday, Pieck’s cake, or Eren’s smile. Eren's image slowly occupied your thoughts. Your breathing became normal once again and your heartbeat went back to its regular rate. You took your time picturing his emerald eyes and his toothy smile before falling asleep on your couch.

[dootiexcupcake]

Test Your Might !

Pairing: Sunoo x fem!reader [shao kahn player!Sunoo x Jade player!reader💀]

tags: gamer!sunoo, gamer!reader, fluff, first meetings, bullet point fic, mortal kombat players, two nerds in loveeee, bad attempts at flirting cuz i'm corny

Warnings: reader is a bit dumb when it comes to online safety but for the most part, none (let me know if i am perhaps missing something tho!)

A/N: i think it is extremely important to state that i have never played a single game of MK in my life💀💀💀. I just like reading/watching cutscene movies of the lore, gameplay, and characters. So if smth is wrong...thats why loool.

TL;DR OP is using this as a way to mix her two hyperfixiations into one thing

• you're a Jade main who, although is not considered a "professional gamer", can handle yourself pretty well in an online match

• after going thru several players and mopping the floor with them you match up with a Shao Kahn player

• username: "handsome_starr"

• "cheesy" you cant help but chuckle at the name and assume this to be a easy fight against someone who isn't above the age of 10

• as soon as the round starts you're immediately backed into a corner by a barrage of combo attacks from the other player

• suddenly straightening up in your seat your grip on the controller gets tighter as your health gets lower and lower with each brutal attack of the heavy weights hammer

• you finally got yourself grounded enough to land a few critical hits to him but it wasn't enough to save you. and before you know it, you hear those familiar words

• "finish her!"

• you feel your nose twitch in irritation as the player throws in a taunt at the end of the 1st round

• "How disappointing." Shao Kahn wags a finger in front of him as the 2nd round begins

• usually you would roll your eyes at the use of the taunt, but with this particular player...

• you welcome the challenge

• the second round begins and once again "handsome_starr" releases a flurry of attacks that leaves you in the corner completly at his mercy

• dont get it wrong, you have played as shao kahn before. you know his combos, fatalities, general move set, etc. you're no stranger to the character.

• but the way this player managed to move this heavy character around so swiftly was something you couldn't wrap your head around

• thankfully you've wised up by now, so you dodge Jade out of the way before Shao Kahn lands a devastating blow with his war hammer

• the match ends with "starr" getting the victory, much to your dismay

• naturally, you rematch with the player and you two go at it for way longer than you both realize

• after the 3rd or 4th rematch you get a notification at the top left corner of your TV screen

• "handsome_starr sent you a friend request"

• you exit out of the game momentarily and accept the pending request

• as soon as the action goes through you receive a message from your new friend

• "gg"

• short, sweet, and to the point. nice

• "u 2" you reply

• "I like ur play style w/ Jade. its cool !"

• your mouth curled up into a smirk, pride swelling up in your chest at the compliment. you decided to return the favor to him and give him some very much needed credit as well

• "thx. ur rly rly good w/ shao k."

• time once again slips past you two as you talk over the system chatroom for what seems like mere minuets. But when you glance at the display clock on screen it shows that a few hours have passed

• how you both managed to type for such a long time using game controllers is beyond anyone

• this quickly becomes a thing between you guys

• you power on your console, play some games, get a notif from starr asking to play MK11, then go back and forth in the mobile chatroom (you learned from last time)

• you also learned that starr isnt just an amazing shao kahn player but he's an even better spawn player too

• one day while the two of you are chatting after a particularly good match (you decimated him in all 3 matches. props to you being a quick learner and spotting his patterns) starr ask a question you weren't quite expecting

• "socials?"

• you stared at the screen for a second as you realized what starr meant by that. why did you never think of this before?

• you thought about every middle school online safety video you were shown as a kid

• well...starr doesn't seem like a murderer who will stalk you so..

• "ya, heres my ig:"

•was it stupid to give your personal social media account to someone you've only known for a few months? yeah

• was it even more stupid if you also didn't even know the guys first name?...yeh

• but you didn't get much time to think through all the logic behind your reasonings as you accepted his follow request

• you were absolutely baffled as you saw pictures of who you assume is starr

• how is it possible that this is the same person who mains such brash and gruesome characters? starr looks so...much different than you imagined

• to be honest, you weren't exactly sure what to expect

• but the first thing that came to your mind when you imagined a shao kahn and spawn player was definitely not the cute and seemingly innocent face of the male smiling in these photos displayed in front of you

• it was a good different though!

• a very good different...

• starr sends you a dm through instagram while you were looking through his page

• "ur name is y/n?"

• "ya thats me" you mentally facepalm when you realize you didn't even check to find his real name.

• you look at his profile again and read his bio

• "kim sunoo?"

• "yup thats me ^^ " comes the reply from the other end

• starr..well, sunoo always used little emojis at the end of his sentences when you guys would speak but, you're not sure why it comes off as so cute this time around..

• you shake the thought off as soon as it comes, 'really? falling for the guy as soon as you see a picture of him? you're better than that y/n!' you mentally scold yourself as you try to get your senses together

• sunoo send a picture of you in chat, which confused you but also brung on a small pang of anxiety.

• "this is you??"

• you swallowed down harshly and replied back with confirmation

• "woah..ur rly pretty :o "

• you wanted to throw your phone out of your window and never talk to sunoo ever again

• you felt your whole body heat up at the unexpected compliment and hid your goofy smile from no one in your empty room

• "thx. ur not too bad yourself haha"

• "oh thanks, that means a lot coming from you ~"

• huh, you give a guy your ig page and he suddenly takes a flirty 180

• "dude ur cute ! dont even try it lol"

• "haha 😅"

• sunoo sends another picture of you in chat, but luckily your heart doesnt beat as nervously this time around

• "woa! you cosplay!?"

• ah, how could you forget about that post

• you were at a convention posing dramatically as one of your favorite characters

• "lol yeah i dont do it *all* the time but since i was attending that con i decided to go all out, ya know?"

• "wow! as if you couldn't get any cuter.."

• you huffed out a laugh through your nose and shook your head at his message

• "heh, ur down bad sunoo"

• of course you were too. but sunoo did NOT need to know that...

main m.list | enha m.list

[cinlat]

Shout out to @kunoichi-ume​ and @tishinada​ for letting me borrow Koko and Zas!

Word Count: 702 Characters: Salix Tia @kunoichi-ume​ Koko and @tishinada​ Zastelar

Tonberry Trauma

Few places were safer than the downstairs room that Salix shared with whoever happened to stop by Zas's house. The walls were thick and well guarded from the Coerthan cold, and no one dared encroach upon the house of the famed Warrior of Light. 

These were the things young Salix Tia, fledgling scholar and adventurer, told himself each night when he ascended the latter to his nest of blankets on the top bunk. He was brave for his part, but more importantly, he was safe. Besides, Zastelar's room was directly at the bottom of the stairs. She'd hear any threat and act long before him.

As it happened on the night in question, Salix lacked the energy to climb into his preferred bed. He'd been training all day, and Eros drove him harder than Selene. Koko, the rambunctious lalafell lass who usually claimed the bottom bunk, was in the Shroud learning a new skill. She wouldn't be back for weeks. So, Salix slumped onto her mattress and let exhaustion sing its sweet lullaby. As he drifted to sleep, Salix pondered briefly on how quiet the house was without Koko. He realized on the brink of slumber that he missed her noise, and hoped she'd return soon.

***

What happened next is largely debated to this day. Zastelar, with her keen elezen ears, woke the most horrendous keening. It likened unto that of the dying shrieks of ghouls and turned her blood to ice. Grabbing her bow, the brave warrior dashed from her room in naught sleep shirt and shorts, heart hammering with dread when she realized where the sound had originated. 

Zastelar burst through the door where her protege slept, then stopped short of stumbling over a wayward...Tonberry. It stood in the middle of the room, head tilted back. To Zastelar's knowledge, the curse on the Tonberries had been lifted. Salix had aided in the process off freeing the poor creatures himself. The lance attached to this particular visitor registered a heartbeat later, and so Zastelar's bow made its appearance. 

A glance around the room showed no sign of blood, so the creature had not harmed Salix. But neither was he in either of the beds. The Tonberry turned towards Zas and spoke in Eorzean. "What's his problem?"

"Koko?" The name wrenched itself from Zastelar's lips, and her arrow lowered. Only then did the bard look up to where the Koko-like Tonberry pointed.

***

Salix had always been a silly boy. Skittish and shy, constantly lecturing about being quiet and scaring the fishes. But when Koko raced home to show her best friend the new outfit she'd won, she had expected more grins and less…mortal terror.

Though he was hard to see against the shadows, Salix clung to the ceiling by his claws and only the gods knew what else. Huffing, Koko removed her helmet. "Well, that's just rude. I worked hard for this stuff. It's the perfect protection against the cold up here and loose enough that I can move. Why are you acting like such a damn fool?"

The light flicked on, and Zas came to stand beside Koko. Sighing, the bard rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Come down, boy. 'Tis only our mischievous lalafellan."

Salix did so, keeping a wary eye on the domed head tucked under Koko's arm. His bare feet touched the floor, and the young miqo'te rubbed the back of his neck. "Apologies, lass. You gave me a start, is all."

"Was that gods awful sound you?" Zas asked before she could stop herself.

Salix flushed darker and took a step away. "I've got history with the likes of them." He jutted his chin towards Koko, then blanched a paler shade of grey. "Tonberries, I mean. I didn't expect to find one standing next to my bed."

"My bed," Koko pointed out, still huffy about how dreadful her reveal had gone. 

Salix dipped his head. "Fair enough. I'll make it up to you." Maybe he'd buy her a new costume to obsess over. Something not reminiscent of murderous beasties. Something cute and befitting of her salt and bubbles personality. 

A sardonic laugh bubbled up Salix's throat then. Only an hour ago, he'd missed the little terror.

A few days later, Salix proposed a new costume idea to his spunky friend. Thankfully, she agreed.

[drpeppertummy]

assorted max thoughts n tidbits copy pasted from the chat

hes simultaneously very graceful & smooth in his movements and also very awkward & clumsy. sometimes he moves so gracefully & then a minute later hes tripping over himself

hes kinda protective of keonda & michael. theyre like kids to him bc theyre the youngest teachers at his school & also theyre Less Favored by the shitty principal. also with them, bc theyre in their 20s & hes 44, he is horrified any time somethin comes up & theyre like "oh yeah i was this old in this year"

he gives better observations bc he used to be a teacher & he Gets It, unlike the principal. he was an english teacher and he misses it SO so much. took an administrative position when the opportunity arose bc he didnt like the way things were being run & he thought he could make a difference but all hes making is himself crazy. regrets leaving the classroom. any time a teacher has to leave early on short notice & they cant get a sub he'll gladly take over for the afternoon & all the kids are like 🧍‍♂️🧍🧍‍♀️

he has a reputation as the hammer who comes down on everyone bc hes constantly trying to keep any problems from making their way to the principal but any time the actual principal gets involved in a situation he has to follow him around & be like Sir. We Cant Do That. Its Not Legal. Sir. Dont You Think Thats A Little Disproportionate. @ every over-the-top punishment he tries to give

he doesnt like driving. it stresses him out. but he gets even More stressed out when someone Else is driving so he likes to be the driver whenever possible. when hes not the driver he is Such a backseat driver (or passenger seat driver, since he would rather be up front). & hes a very cautious driver & all of that together can be Kinda Annoying but nobody can really blame him & they certainly cant bring themselves to complain about it (context: his wife & son were killed in a car accident). teaching his daughter junie to drive is SUCH an insane hurdle for him

[re: trans stuff] i think in general max Gets more stuff than people expect him to bc hes such a fuddy duddy bitch. people getting to know him is like "this guy is probably a republican" -> "oh sweet hes an ally" -> "oh hes more queer than even he realizes"

he can be scary when hes Mad mad but that doesnt happen much. it usually only comes out if someone is doing something really awful. he doesnt necessarily shout his face just gets cold as ice & his voice drops & he stares absolute daggers through whoever hes mad at & u realize that any other time u thought he was really mad he was just a little crabby. its a quiet & chilly kind of mad

he doesnt do caffeine bc he gets so jittery

one of alfies nicknames for him back in the day was Prettyboy & he still calls him that now sometimes & max rolls his eyes about it bc he doesnt think hes all that much of a prettyboy anymore but it still makes him smile

he doesnt eat enough bc 1. too busy half the time and 2. stress affecting his appetite. so a lot of the time hes a little hangry without realizing it & he'll get like increasingly high strung & wound up about nothing until his tummy rumbles & hes like 🫥 & a coworker is like. Kestler . Go Eat A Snickers . he just gets So high strung & uptight & opinionated & will carry on about the randomest shit & he wont even realize hes hungry. his close friends/loved ones know him well enough to recognize it tho & they think its the funniest thing bc normally hes pretty quiet. he also talks more when hes just flat out nervous/anxious/stressed but its less Ranting & Raving & more Thinking Out Loud

before he went into education he was a law student. wanted to get into the system so he could make some amount of difference in it. realized at some point that there was no way he would be able to handle it without losing his shit entirely. too emotional & too high strung & too frustrated with the way things are. never finished, changed his major & graduated probably a couple years late. hes still pretty sharp when it comes to legal stuff. knows all about what is & isnt legal in a school setting. knows all about discrimination laws & whats protected in new jersey. knows all the contracts & policies & procedures they have by memory bc hes good about keeping track of that sort of thing. makes it easy for him to tell the horrible unhinged principal Sir You Cant Do That

hes a little bit of a control freak in general bc at work hes used to being an overworked administrator who has to keep on top of everything, at home hes used to being a single parent who has to keep on top of everything, he has his ways of doing things & he knows they work & he doesnt like things slipping out of his control bc he knows what hes doing so when marsha & alfie come into the picture and they start becoming closer as a family its a little hard for him to relinquish Having To Take Care Of Everything Ever. he doesnt Entirely doubt other peoples competence he just gets anxious when he doesnt have control over a situation. more in some cases than others, like driving & cooking particularly for obvious reasons although im sure theres plenty of things that hes very particular about. alfies more likely to butt heads with him over it. marshas more gentle about coaxing him into submission or making a compromise

his relationship with gender is kinda Loose. like hes thought about it & he still considers himself a cis man & hes not really interested in exploring it any further at this time but he knows that whatever hes got going on is probably not entirely aligned with whatever other cis men have going on

hes a little effeminate but the principal is Utterly oblivious to it. thinks max mustve been a football star in his youth or somethin. on a rant about kids these days or whatever & goes "now This is what REAL masculinity looks like" & max just about chokes on the ibuprofen hes trying to take. he just inexplicably thinks max is some kind of Manly Man & max CANNOT wrap his head around Why. his best guess is that its bc he dresses well (and boring) but he has no idea where hoffstetter gets the impression he was ever anything but a quiet outcast who spent like a third of his life getting called a sissy

hes a little sensitive about homophobic slurs bc he spent so much of his youth getting bullied for Seeming gay & getting called every name in the book. & like alfie got a lot of shit too (tough masculine butch gf + shy awkward effeminate bf perfect combo to pick on) but he was more the type to bite back or get into fights about it or laugh it off & be like "yeah and what if i am a [insert slur here] Fuck You" rather than let it get to him even if he was sometimes upset about it deep down. hes more the type to fully reclaim them. also i think max got bullied worse bc nobody was ever under any illusion that he was gonna fight back whereas alfie had a reputation for gettin rough. Any Ways max doesnt mind As much if say like a very close friend jokingly calls him a fruit but he still looks uncomfortable enough that they wont call him stuff like that

sometimes max is a little bit Too overprotective with junie & kinda stifles her a little bc he doesnt wanna take any chances & she gets frustrated about it but feels bad saying anything bc she knows he has plenty of reason to worry after they lost half their family

he calls junie Juniper when shes in trouble/when hes bein Real Serious (normally if shes goin out with friends & hes lecturing her about bein careful), Junie normally, & Junie B Jones when hes bein silly

hes got the whole pharmacy in his desk drawer. hes got the aspirin hes got the tylenol hes got the tums hes got the pepto hes got the mucinex hes got the nasal spray hes got the dayquil hes probably got some prescription shit. he gets a lot of headaches & tummyaches & back pain & joint pain & once in a while the occasional migraine

i havent posted him much. but max has been one of my #1 little guys to rotate in my brain for months now