#minor discomfort strikes again

[thunderon]

being tired as hell but still being unable to sleep has to be a top 5 worst feeling. right fucking up there with “hungry but too nauseous to eat”. experiencing both at the same time? literally need to be put down like a dog

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[cynic-spirit]

Accidental hurt

During one of their playful duels in the training arena, the atmosphere was electric with laughter and banter. Aemond and Y/N were both fully immersed in the friendly competition, their swords clashing with practiced precision. Y/N’s laughter rang out as she danced around him, her movements fluid and graceful.

But in a split second, as Aemond aimed to parry her strike, he miscalculated. The tip of his sword grazed her arm, leaving a small cut. The laughter died in an instant, replaced by a shocked silence as Y/N pulled back, eyes wide in surprise.

“Aemond!” she exclaimed, her tone shifting from playful to concerned.

He froze, his heart dropping as he processed what had just happened. “Oh no… Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Panic flooded his veins as he stepped closer, his eyes darting to the small, crimson mark on her arm.

Y/N quickly examined the cut, which was minor but enough to cause concern. “It’s just a small nick,” she reassured him, but the worry in her voice was evident.

Aemond felt sick to his stomach. “Just a small nick?” he echoed, his voice strained. “What if you had lost your hand? What if you couldn’t play the piano anymore?” He hated himself for being so careless, his mind racing with the worst-case scenarios.

“Hey, it’s really not that serious,” she said, her tone calming but still edged with concern for him. “I promise I’ll be fine. It doesn’t hurt that much.”

But Aemond wasn’t convinced. He gently took her arm in his hands, his fingers brushing over the cut with utmost tenderness. “I should have been more careful. I should have been watching.” His voice was low, filled with self-recrimination.

“It was an accident, Aemond,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his, trying to reassure him. “You don’t need to blame yourself. I’m okay.”

He looked up at her, searching her face for any sign of discomfort. “But what if it had been worse? What if I hurt you badly? I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, grounding him. “I know you didn’t mean it. Accidents happen. You’re not the kind of person who would ever intentionally hurt me.”

Aemond closed his eyes, leaning into her touch, but the guilt still lingered in the pit of his stomach. “I just hate that I let it happen. You mean too much to me for me to be reckless.”

“Then let’s make a deal,” she suggested, her playful spirit returning. “No more reckless swings from you, and I promise to stay out of the way. Deal?”

Aemond cracked a small smile at her lightheartedness, grateful for her ability to ease his guilt. “Deal,” he replied, though the seriousness of his earlier feelings still hung in the air.

As he carefully checked the cut again, he couldn’t help but think of how lucky he was to have Y/N in his life. Even in moments of guilt and worry, she was the one who could bring him back to a place of calm. With a soft sigh, he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss on the spot where the cut had formed, as if to seal the promise of his care for her.

“Just know I’ll always protect you,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers.

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection for him. “I know, Aemond. And I’ll always be here to challenge you.”

As they shared a tender moment, Aemond felt the weight of his guilt begin to lift, replaced by the warmth of their bond—a bond that made even the most chaotic moments feel right.

[peachsayshi]

deadass started reading ‘the way you love me’ after seeing the news abt gojo and i ended up pulling an all-nighter on it 🧍‍♀️ i wasnt intending on smut I just happened upon it bc of the ‘gojo satoru needs a hug’ tag on ao3 but now im a little bit obsessed and i just wanted to pass along a hug of support to a fellow gojo luvr<3 and also ask if u could maybe write something bittersweet with him bc im still grieving immensely.. can be canon compliant or an au or a lil fix-it blurb i just need to feel Something JSJSJD …..💔💔

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni /this blog is 20+ for follows

⥽ notes: nonniee!! ahhh, first off I'm sending you such a big hug after reading the leaks (because it's what we all deserve right now).I love this string bean so much :c he's the reason why I started writing fanfics again :c thank you so much for taking the time to read my gojo fic! I really appreciate the feedback & support xo here's a little bittersweet blurb xo

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags: angst/fluff; canon doesn't exist here; in which gojo wins but at a cost; reader has a little anxiety; in which you are both healing together; mentions gojo as a dad; manga spoilers

the image of him on the ground, tattered up like a torn up doll, has your body springing upright from your mattress. your legs go numb as your throat tightens with a discomfort that has you struggling to catch your breath from witnessing the soul of your lover descending into an unknown abyss where you couldn’t follow.

why did he look so real?

the visual sends tremors down your spine, making your heart bang heavily in your chest as your ears ring. you instantly reach for him; your hand desperately seeking out his warmth, but instead your are met with the cold touch of your pillow.

the space beside you is empty, and your heart whispers a low, and petrified: no.

you kick off your bedsheets to stand on your two feet and even though the abrupt gesture makes you a little lightheaded, you catch your balance as you swiftly walk out of your bedroom.

it’s just a dream…

one quick turn to the kitchen is where you find him.

you reach your arm around to pinch your skin just to make sure that you are awake...

...that everything around is what is real.

gojo angles his neck towards you, his gaze softening at the sight of you and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"I thought you were asleep," he addresses, the gentle tone of his voice prompting you to march right up to him.

the front of his brows pinch with concern when you reach for his tee and bury your nose into his chest to breathe in the cozy scent of spice and citrus.

a scent that always smells of coming home, of safety, of love...

hot tears prick your eyes; it was just a bad dream, you remind yourself, just a bad dream.

you tilt your chin up, sighing with ease when you meet those familiar irises, all the while thinking that he's still as breathtaking as ever.

you love that he's letting his hair grow out, the snowy length just grazing the base of his neck while the shorter, front layers frame his face nicely.

it's cute seeing him experiment with different looks in this very new process of self discovery - a stage which he was robbed from entirely in his youth.

his once striking, prominent eyes are now soft and muted, a hint of grey glazing over the sparkling blue. the tear in his right pupil reminds of you of that fateful night three years ago, when the weight of the world hung heavily on the broad shoulders of the man before you.

his perfect hands return the gesture of your touch as they seek out your waist, and the simple contact makes your lashes flutter with relief.

he may no longer be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, the possessor of six eyes, the untouchable with an infinity that garnered his protection...but he is still forever your satoru.

the last three years had you counting every single blessing, with the roots of your happiness blooming all over your home. it's in the gold band that sits comfortably around your ring finger, in every single photograph which has been thoughtfully framed and the bundle of joy sleeping quietly in her bed just down the hall.

yet, despite all of is, you can't shake off the vile cursed king who haunts you like a ghost, especially when you think about the true cost of that battle. if things had taken a turn for the worse then the last three years wouldn't even exist, and everything around you would have been a simple fabrication-

"hey," gojo squeezes your waist to grab your attention, a worried pout forming on his pretty pink lips, "why do you look so upset, angel?"

you swallow the hard lump that's been stuck in your throat since you've woken up. "I had a really bad dream," you proceed to explain, but your voice wavers instantly as a single tear trickles down your cheek, "I had a dream that I...that I lost you..."

your husband arches his brow, but you feel him relax against your touch as a cheeky grin lights up his face. "but I'm right here" he teases with a playful tone that instantly triggers you to feign annoyance.

"Ugh, obviously, satoru..." you scold, gripping your digits against the material of his shirt.

you try to pull away from him, but he simply secures his arms behind your lower back to keep you looped into his frame.

you don't deny the comfort of his embrace, and instead fold by circling your own limbs around his waist as you rest your cheek against his chest.

"I meant losing you for good, as in...never seeing you again..."

"ahh, I see..." your husband acknowledges.

"it scared me, satoru. it really did," you vent with a tiny sniffle. “I thought you were really gone for a moment…”

he draws small, soothing circles with his index finer on your lower back, allowing you to hold onto him for as long as you need while you softly let out your small sobs as the quiet settles around you.

“I can promise you one thing..."

"what's that?"

he releases you for only a moment to cup your cheeks. his face is full of love, showered with devotion that helps wash away your distress. he carefully wipes the rogue tears that fall from your beautiful eyes, before arching forward to tap the tip of his nose against yours.

"you're not getting rid of me that easily" he smiles tenderly and lightly pecks your lips.

his words are laced with confidence, dripping with a strong level of assurance that only satoru gojo can deliver.

it’s lighthearted but full of meaning, because the last time he said that sentence was right before walking into battle.

you curl your fingers around his wrist, parting your mouth this time when he searches for a second kiss. your ears burn when he firms his hold on your jaw, a low flame igniting in your belly as he glides his tongue across yours and releases a satisfied hum in the process.

the kiss is a little extra sweet tonight, like you're savoring the saccharine syrup of the ripest candied berries-

"hmph, 'toru?" you mumble into the kiss, your mind slowly leaving the shrouds of darkness as you rest your forehead comfortably against his. "were you…were you eating the treats that I got for 'ume?"

"what?" he dramatically scoffs in disbelief, "no..."

"satoru..." you reprimand.

"you really think I snuck out here just to eat izumi's candy?"

a tiny giggle escapes you, "you taste like I'm biting into sugar granules..."

"that's cause I'm made of only good things, sweetheart" he smiles as he nuzzles his nose against yours.

for whatever reason that answer brings you immense comfort. despite how much of him has actually changed, you're happy to know that satoru is still himself in many, many other ways.

"I now see where our daughter gets her exceptionally cute charm from," you concede with a roll of your eyes.

"mhmm," satoru agrees with a level of pride that makes your heart swell.

you know just how much that little girl means to him.

he straightens his back, his hand still cradling your face as he calmly strokes his thumb back and forth over your cheek. "feeling a bit better?"

you exhale, "yeah, a little-"

"you want to head back to bed?"

you nod your head, tilting it only slightly for you to kiss the inside of his palm.

“c’mon, let’s get you tucked in”

you’re not quick to let him go just yet, and satoru has to fight back from smiling like an idiot when you lock your arms around his waist.

he stays entangled, draping his own across your shoulder as he leads you back into the bedroom.

you don’t have to tell him where the source of your pain stems from.

he knows it all too well himself.

as a matter of fact, it’s now ingrained at the very core of satoru's soul because even he can’t deny the severity of what happened.

that night stripped him of everything he's ever known, of everything he’s ever believed himself to be…

but he doesn't care about the loss. he doesn’t mull over the depths of his sacrifice when the exchange of his divinity for his mortality meant the reward of living out the rest of his life with his one true love by his side.

it’s a decision he would have made a thousand times over.

[knightyoomyoui]

The 1% Of Chances | TWICE Jeongyeon x Male Reader Fanfic : CHAPTER 11

One chapter left to go and that is the finale of the next update, but before that, some revelations must be unveiled first to further enlighten how these all started. The outline I made for this chapter is probably the shortest of all, but I tried to write it longer since we’re already at the climax of the story and its importance. Expect that the questions raised by most of the parts from the hints I’ve dropped through the previous chapters will be finally answered here. Enjoy reading!

The person who was sitting on the spare chair beside his hospital bed froze when he rotated his body to face the patient. He dropped the plastic bag on his hands and quickly lunged at his friends, as the latter was still recovering his eyesight. YN can hear gasps and amused reactions coming from someone who couldn’t believe what he’s seeing.

YN! You’re awake! Oh god, just wait here, bro. I’m calling the nurses! ”The person quickly pats him on the arm before he sprints his way out of the room. As he opened the door to disappear, YN’s consciousness regained, as did his senses. Analyzing his current situation, he confirmed that he is indeed still in a hospital gown laid flat on the bed in the center of a boring, white, plain room.

He tried to straighten his posture and prepare to sit up, but YN suddenly felt a throbbing pain on the back of his head, causing him minor discomfort. Just as when he had it, the person returned along with two nurses and a doctor with him. They caught YN shutting his eyes and holding his head irritably, which encouraged them to come in support of the suffering patient.

"Hey, YN, does it hurt again? ”The person asked you as he approaches beside you. The doctor excused him from lending him the way to check up on you, and he did, letting the experts determine what you’re feeling.

 "Mr. LN, don’t force yourself, please. Try to recline your head back on the pillow,” the doctor said as he gripped both of your shoulders to guide you down. As the nurses focused on helping you, the doctor confronted your guardian. “You bought food for him? ”

“I did, doc.”, he nodded. “:Good, he’ll need it. We brought some painkiller medicine in case a scenario like this happens. If he calms down, then it’s good that you must feed him and have him take the-” “W-where am I?” Their conversation got interrupted when your words caught both of their attention, one with curiosity and one with surprise. The two nurses became speechless, as they all knew already what this hint meant for them to discover. They just looked at each other and then into the two other guys with them who were monitoring your clueless expression.

Your eyes swayed back and forth to their presence around you, eyebrows furrowed as confusion strikes you in. “Who are you people? What am I doing here.”

“D-doc, is he-” “You’re in a hospital, Mr. LN. “ The doctor cuts him off and directly answered your curiosities. “You are currently confined here because of the accident you got involved into.” “Accident?” Your brows knitted deeper. “Yes. You don’t remember what happened to you?” “I-I don’t. I don’t even know why am I here.” You shrugged, still confused at what they’re pertaining at. Your friend’s heart felt like it dropped hearing that.

“How about us, especially him. Do you remember him?” The doctor pointed at the guy beside him who is just observing the interrogation. You looked at him and was eagerly waiting for the response he’s hoping to hear, but instead his smile fades away when he heard the opposite.

“I don’t either.” The guy looked back at the doctor, who glanced at him seriously. He shook his head, like it conveyed something. He gestured for him to come closer to him and lead themselves away from you as they discussed privately. You did nothing except just watch him chat while the nurses even had to confirm if you didn’t really know your guardian. “D- doc, what is this? Did that really happen?” The guy had some more thoughts needed to be let out. “Calm down, Mr. Choi.” The doctor advised the guy who is evidently panicking deep inside and worried for his friend. “Yes, what we just saw happened. He really can’t remember what happened to him and even… you.” “Then what is this, does it mean he has amnesia now?” The latter uttered in disbelief. “Could be, maybe its just temporary… or not.” The guardian’s face fell into shambles. “But, we can’t figure it out how long his memory loss will be. But one thing’s for sure, that injury he had in his head probably damaged his brain’s structure of the limbic system. It’s not just a concussion that he took from the accident so that why it’s most likely that his brain will get affected worse by it and unfortunately, it’s the part that controls his emotions and memories.”

“D-doc, there’s still a way to help him regain everything he doesn’t remember, right?” The guardian questioned full of hopefulness.

“Yes, as long as we guide him through it. But first, we have to run some tests for him to help us understood exactly his head injury and what are the effects it brought to him.” “Okay, doc. As long as it will do anything good to him, I’m willing to cooperate for the sake of my friend.” He said with confidence “You’re a real one for that, Mr. Choi.” The doctor agreed. They stopped their conversation to return back to the patient who is still questioning what’s going on right now. “Alright, Mr. LN. We had a brief talk about you and I just want to inform you that due to the condition or behavior you’ve been showing to us… it seems pretty obvious you are currently unwell, right now.”

“Unwell?” “Yes. You don’t remember anything as of the moment. You can’t remember what happened to you, nor this man who is a close individual of yours in your life, and that’s crucial, because that’s not a good sign to suddenly forgot something important like they didn’t… exist.” The doctor explained.

“Wait… so does that mean I-” “You have sustained multiple injuries in your body, but the most critical is your head. Mainly that’s why it brought you to forgot everything because of the impact it received. But don’t worry, Mr. LN. We’re here to guide you through your recovery, so please I recommend you to calm down and participate with us.” You just nodded understandably at what the doctor said. As they excused themselves, the guy sat beside him and looked at him with worry and sadness enveloping his feelings. “Hey, man. Sucks that you have to be like this for god knows how long but, I’ll never leave your side as long as you need me, like through this tough time we’re going at.” You looked attentively at the unfamiliar person in front of you, but you know that everything that’s coming out of his mouth is purely sincere. He really does make it felt like he’s a loved one who takes care of him much.

“I’m ready to guide you recollect all the memories you lose, including everything we’ve been through. Don’t waste it man, we had some fun times together many many times before your accident.”

“Accident?” You asked. “I really didn’t expect that I’ll be like this. All I know is that my head wasn’t doing good but not like this.” “I think it’s because as what the doctors said, man. You have fo-” “No, but I’m sure I haven’t got to any accident. I still know what brings me here.” Your friend became puzzled at what you’re trying to say. “I had a severe headache then suddenly I got placed here but not looking like… this.” You said as you glanced around your body almost made your appearance like half-mummified. “And there’s this… someone who I was talking with, and she… she cries for me…” Your friend’s eyes widened as he immediately recognized who you are referring to. “S-she?”, he had to repeat to clarify if what he heard was actually right.

“Yes. She seemed… very concerned of me. She was too afraid that I’m gonna die but I assured her that I won’t. I slept and then when I woke up, she’s not here with me anymore.” You said while staring straight at the blank wall in front of your distance. “D-did you see or atleast… know her? I don’t know her name… or even her face.” Your friend choked on his breath as he had to witness your tears drop from your eyes. He doesn’t know why, but seeing you emotionally had brought him easily to let loose of his own. You've been his soul brother since you were kids; that’s why everything that you feel is what he also shares with you. 

But what brought him to feel bad for you was that... he knows why you are crying, while at the same time, he feels sorry for you that you still even had to keep her on your mind even in the depths of your despair.

Help me understand everything, please,” you begged for him. He nodded and gripped your hand. “I will, I promise.” “And if I do… can you… atleast introduce me to her, again?” He stared at you and was about to release another tears of pity but he tried his best to remained composed and tightlipped for you. “I’ll try my best.” You smiled timidly, feeling satisfied for his choice. “Sorry if I couldn’t remember your name, but I can tell that we had a lot of history together.” “Oh we are.” He chuckled. “We’ve been through a lot, man. I’ve known every bits of you, because I’m the only person you have to share your stories with. Looks like this time, it’s my turn to re-tell everything you have told me back to you.” “And I’ll listen to everything just like what you did for me.” You returned the appreciation. “You don’t know how happy I am that you are now fine, dude.” He huffed in relief and finally, his voice sounded delightful and vibrant again because of his stable condition. “You’ve been like in a coma for… 2 weeks already.” “What?” “Yeah, I was like fearing that you might never wake up but… my prayers proved it wrong. You did woke up but sadly you couldn’t remember me, but that’s fine. What matters is that I still have my bestfriend around, right?”

You chuckled and agreed to him, entertained at his kind and amusing personality. “Yeah.” “I’m Choi Somin, by the way. Take note of that name always, it might became handy for me to start bringing back everything you’ve lost.” “Will do, Somin.” “Nice!” He smiled. He ducked and grabbed the plastic bag that he dropped on the floor a while ago. “Oh, by the way, I bought you so foods to eat. The doctor said you have to eat since you’ve been unresponsive for 2 weeks so… eat as much as you want then you can take the prescribed medicine after, okay?”

“Thanks, Somin.” Somin takes out all the supplies he bought to satisfy your hunger, and he prepares them himself for you as part of his responsibility as a guardian. You were watching TV as he wanted to ease your boredom at least by entertaining yourself watching those shows being flashed on the screen that you may have seen before, but now you have no idea what they are. Your focus then shifted to Somin, who cooked you some tteokbokki and japchae, in which he assisted in feeding you with a spoon. 

After you munched the spoonful of food in your mouth, you proceeded to ask Somin, who was also eating his plate of food, for his turn. “How did I got into an accident?” Somin paused from eating and viewed you who is staring back at him, wondering with that question. He sighed and placed his plate on his lap and swallowed his food before giving you a reply. “All I’ve heard is that you’ve been involved in some collision of a van and a carrier truck. But then when I watched the news that reported what happened, that’s where I got the entire story based from the witnesses who were there to see how did you became into one of its victims…” Weeks ago, after you had finished your job interview, you were about to leave when Somin called you on the phone, asking about how your interview went and your plans with him for tomorrow morning. He then mentioned on the phone that “2 years have passed since that happened."

Somin was actually referring to your late mother, who passed away due to cancer. You grew up with a single mother, and your dad was nowhere to be found after he abandoned you and your mother. You once tried to search for him, but as you matured, you realized that it was his wrongdoing, and he's not worthy to have you both again.

You stopped looking for your dad and fully accepted that your mom decided to continue being a single parent just to raise you and build a better life for his son, even if he didn’t have an ideal family. You didn’t care at all instead, because your mother is enough to consider your family to be rather strong than perfect. 

However, it all vanished when the unfortunate circumstances had to unfairly happen for a woman like her.

The only woman who fought till the end just to stay by your side... even if it costs her life due to her unselfishness. You both love and hate her so much for that, but even if you argue with her over and over again about that, you know she'll always win. She loves you so much, and that love is your weakness, which was her strength, but... fate went upside down, as it was instead the one who pushed her to the risk of disappearing forever.

Despite having colon cancer, she never stopped assisting you, even if you were already a young adult. Even at those remaining times she has left to live, she used it still to make you feel cherished and be the proudest son ever to her. 

That’s why when she passed away, it was never easy for you every single day when you'd think about it. Every day until the 2nd consecutive time, you have been visiting her grave with flowers and everything as a treat together with the only person you have left who became super close to your mom too, your childhood neighbor turned to be your best friend, Somin. After Somin mentioned the time you and him talked about your mom on the phone, he recalled that you said goodbye to him because you were about to buy flowers to bring to the cemetery.

And that’s the last conversation he had with you before that accident happened. 

At the time you stopped driving to follow the red light as people were granted to cross on the street, you were checking out the latest posts of your favorite K-Pop girl group TWICE for their comeback, which you couldn’t remember anymore.

Based on Somin’s narration to the reports he learned from the news, just as the traffic light turned into green, a truck being driven by a driver who lost its brake had its wheels to roll uncontrollably by itself and led the truck to collide on the back of the van, which then forcefully bumped it to the one lining in front of it.

And the one that’s in front of the van was you riding your motorcycle. 

You flung from your motor due to the heavy impact, causing you to smash your head and face first on the trunk of the car before your body got twisted badly at the motor, which your legs are still tucked in. As you were about to fall off the road, the van caught your arm mid-air and pressed the now-reversed motor through it, sending multiple fractures and injuries mostly through your arm, waist, and legs. 

However, your head took a lot of damage, making it possible that you might lose memories from the external force your head took on the trunk of the car. Somin couldn’t confirm what type of injury it is, but he hopes that it will result in temporary memory loss for you. 

He was about to mention more when both of you heard a knock on the door. “Wait here, okay? ”You just nodded and let Somin attend to this on his own. As you took your time to process the story that Somin has shared to you, especially grieving and saddened about the truth of your loving mother’s death 2 years ago, Somin opened the door and got alerted of the person who is standing in front of him. He immediately closed the door and stepped out to confront the lady who decided to visited the patient. Knowing that the identity of this woman is now unknown to you, Somin better chose to keep this one distant from you to discuss it first about your state. “How is he?” “He just woke up an hour ago.” The woman covered her gasping mouth and got teary eyed. “Oh my… thank God, h-how is he? Can I see him?”

She was about to peek on the door and open it but Somin blocked her way, making her confused. “N-not yet. I don’t think so.” “Why? Is there something wrong?” Somin sighed and looked around him problematically before he faced again the curious individual. “There is.” “What is it?” “H-he… he couldn’t remember anything.”

“What?” She muttered. “He doesn’t know how he got his injuries, me personally, and probably… you.”

“Oh no…” She expressed distress similar to what Somin has been going through. “The accident really a took a toll on him.” Her face then stretched in astonishment as she realized something. “Wait… don’t tell me…”

“He wanted to remember her.” Somin confesses. The latter gazed back and a large frown plastered across her lips. She was on the verge of crying at how the accident horribly affected both of them.

“He said that what he knows instead is that he has her rather guarding him while he’s confined and not me.” Somin couldn’t help but to let a crack on his voice as he looked away from the girl who is already sobbing at how heartbreaking it is for the both of them to learn what a depressing fate their friends had ended up into.

He hooked her around his arm and engulfed her in his embrace to let the poor friend writhe in agony as he rubs her back gently for comfort. Somin then whispered near to her ear. “But… Nayeon, how are we supposed to tell him about her?”

[syrcus]

FFXIVwrite 2024 Day 1: Steer

Non-WoL OC. No major spoilers. Pre-Calamity, minor setting spoiler for early 7.0 zone. 868 words ao3 link

Ask a dozen sailors what the most important part of a ship is, and you'll be given a dozen answers. You may be told of the mast, and how without it the ship can make no headway; you might hear of the galley and the comforts of a warm meal and good company after a long day's work; others still will tell you of pieces of a ship's anatomy you never considered, paints and metals hidden beneath the waterline to protect the hull from barnacles and the caustic effects of ocean salt.      Soley Torunn never cared much for all that. Then again, he was never much of a sailor, and never felt at peace on the ship he called home his whole sixteen years.

     It's a curious feeling, he realises, to stand on Tuliyollal's dock and watch the place he grew up slowly drift away. A handful of paces to his right stands a shetona woman with dark hair and bright eyes, waving enthusiastically, yelling at the top of her voice without a care as to whether it will carry to the people she's calling for.

     "Be safe out there, Salka! And bring back something fun! And-" she catches herself and laughs, seeming to realise the futility of her effort, before lowering her voice and turning to Soley with a fond smile. "Well. I suppose we're left to hold down the fort."

Soley finds himself at a loss. She's a nice enough woman, too nice to be his mother's closest friend on this, or any, side of the world. He always wondered how that bond was formed, how someone so unkind could be loved by someone so her opposite. Perhaps they were living through each other in a way; his "aunt" had always wanted to go out and see the world, perhaps she in turn has some quality his mother values, though he struggles to imagine what a woman like his mother might find endearing. Maybe she's just a useful connection to those in power.      He looks at her uneasily, all too acutely aware of the differences between them. She's smiling, warm and bright; staying in Tural this year had been her idea, she'd said it would do him good to strike out on his own a little. He had leapt at the opportunity at first, but standing here now he barely knows where to start. He takes a breath.

     "I… What do I do now?" he asks quietly. He's spent his whole life a sailor's son, 'Árni and Salka's kit', never having the time to put down roots somewhere. Now that he has the chance, he can't help but feel like a ship with a broken mast, forced to weigh anchor far from home.

     "Well, we can get you set up in a room, or get some food, or-" Not the mast, he realises as his aunt chatters on, it's the rudder I'm missing. It's a discomforting thought, to be directionless, unable to change course by his own hand.  At sea or on land, his fate always seems to sit in the hands of those around him.  I need to get out of here.

     "I'm sorry, Auntie," he cuts in. "I think I need some time alone. A walk perhaps." He doesn't wait for a reply before turning to leave, and doesn't say goodbye. He knows his aunt well enough to know she'll find him again sooner or later, she's persistent and well-practiced at hunting down lost boys. Her own child, as far as Soley knows him, also prefers solitude more often than not.      He pays little attention to where he's going, just a vague sense of 'upwards'. He cuts through the markets and the plaza, and avoids the residential district, his mind racing and empty all at once. The only thing he's sure of is that he needs distance, from the Aalto and the person he was aboard it, from the docks and the sea, from anyone and everyone. Tuliyollal is, he thinks, a good city.  It's bright, and colourful, and its people even moreso.  The towns of Aldenard and Vylbrand seem grey and small by comparison, and for all its colour Kugane has always been so rigid.  For as long as he can remember, the months spent in Tuliyollal between long days at sea have always been his favourite.      A small mamool ja child runs past him, giggling, their mum chasing behind and telling them to slow down.  What is it like, Soley wonders, to grow up loved?  To be tucked in to a soft bed a night, one that doesn't sway to and fro until nothing feels solid anymore?

     As he walks, his thoughts turn further to his own life, a ship as its metaphor.  For as long as he can remember, someone has manned the helm; he may have had no choice over the direction he took, but his course was charted and mapped.  Now, it seems, the wheel spins wildly, every path and none at all open to him in unison.

Ask a dozen sailors what the most important part of a ship is, and you'll be given a dozen answers.  Ask Soley Torunn, though, and he will say,

     "Where it's going."

[sleepingdeath-light]

a matter of trust ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 635

content ; sexually explicit content, breath play, cock warming, use of collar to lightly choke shirou

fandom ; brand new animal

pairing ; shirou ogami x gender neutral reader

read also on ; ao3

note ; this isn’t really characterisation heavy due to its length, and because i haven’t written much for this fandom (or for shirou specifically), so apologies if that’s what you were looking for.

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

It had taken years for you to get to this point (Shirou wasn't someone who trusted easily or treated love lightly, after all), but being here with him made all of that worth it: the feeling of his cock, thick and long, stretching you to the brink as you tried to stay as still as possible on his lap was incomparable; the stern grip of his hands on your hips, forcing you to stay in place after one too many teasing rolls of your hips against his, was enough to send a pleasant heat sprawling out across your cheeks and throat; the longer strap of his well-worn collar was heavy in your hand and difficult to keep a good grip on for its size, the old leather scratchy and thick against your palm as you absentmindedly toyed with it — struck with the realisation of just how much he trusted you. That he trusted you enough to let you choke him, even after everything he’d been put through over his long millennia of life.

It wasn’t as if you could kill him of course, but the gesture still held a great bit of weight to it and that wasn’t lost on you.

So, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you pulled the collar taut and fastened it one buckle tighter than before. Not enough to have any real chance of restricting his breathing like you’d agreed upon, but it was a start; something quick and safe to test the waters, and to give Shirou the chance to back out whilst showing him that you’d accept that in an instant.

But he didn’t.

So neither did you, giving him a few moment’s rest before reaching forward once again to tighten the collar by another notch. Gaze flitting cautiously between his pale throat (or, rather, the still lingering marks you’d left there a few weeks prior), the collar, and his face to watch for any signs of discomfort or hesitation. Signs that never came as you went on, slowly tightening it buckle by buckle, notch by notch, until you felt you could go on no longer.

And then you couldn’t help but lean back and take in the result: pale skin flushed a pretty shade of pink from the slivers of his exposed collarbone up to the tips of his ears, silver-white hair all messed out of place, pupils dilated as he stared straight at you with that same intensity you’d come to know and love, lips parted to let out a string of huffs and grunts and pants that were a sinful mix of heavenly and pornographic, bare hands grasping so tightly at your hips that you feared they’d leave substantial marks in their wake by the morning (though that was your fault for moving too much despite his instructions), cock throbbing and twitching so much inside of you that it took everything in you (and his hands on you) not to just ride him to climax. A perfect combination of erotic and vulnerable, beautiful and striking, animalistic and restrained.

For a few moments you pulled the collar tight — far tighter than before, enough to properly choke him for those brief seconds — and delighted in the way one of his hands flew up to grasp your wrist (not to stop you, not even holding you roughly, seemingly more out of instinct than anything else). Then you smiled reassuringly and let go, returning the collar to its usual tautness as you settled back down on his lap, content to just stay there in that moment with him for however long he’d allow. You’d had your fun (and so had he if what you could feel was anything to go by), but now it was time to rest.

You didn’t actually want to hurt him, after all.

[deadend-if]

Okay look,, this was a lot longer than I planned it to be,, it was supposed to be half the length it is now, but oh well 💪😔

Anyway, I said I would post it today so here it is, the first of (possibly) many short stories. 💥💥

Santi's apprenticeship short story (under the cut)

There's nothing wrong with being a little early. Making a good impression on their mentor is more important than any discomfort from the blazing sun and honking cars. June Ko was someone Santi had been following for years, this is a dream come true. Her art style was something they always admired. The tattoos she creates move flawlessly with every curve and ridge of the body. They're bold, sharp, and elegant in a way Santi can only hope to recreate one day. The only reason they're not as nervous as they probably should be is, well, they've met her before. Evidence of their meeting is permanently etched on their body. They instinctively trace the dancing swirl of black and grey smoke that wraps around their body from shoulder blade to forearm. It weaves around a wilting bouquet of butterfly jasmine on their bicep. It cost them a pretty penny, but they don't regret a single cent.

This meeting was their first step into finally doing what they've been wanting to do for years. Even during their college years, art was the only thing on their mind. Now, after too long, they can finally prove that their fine arts minor wasn't pointless.

Santi checks their watch, sleek with brown leather and black accents. It was a graduation gift from their grandfather and about the same price as one month's rent. Santi pulled at the earrings on their left earlobe. Guilt prickles down their shoulders as they picture his disappointment, ceaseless in its haunting. He expected more, but what else was there to give?

A shout breaks their train of thought, whipping their head around at the sound of a slamming car door.

“Is that you, Vega? You're way early, dude.”

Oh, shit. Was that not right? Santi blanked for a second, thinking up a response as June leisurely made her way over. Strike one. They didn't think 10:45 was that early.

“Nothin’ better to do. Just thought I'd get a head start,” they finally respond after what feels like an eternity of June twirling her keys on her finger. They check their watch again as their new mentor unlocks the door. It's only been a minute. This day is far from over.

A bell jingles on their way in, and the first thing June does is flip on the lights. They flicker before settling into a bright, sterile white, illuminating the concrete floor and exposed brick walls. The shop is sectioned off with half-walls just past the front desk. Checkered tiles cause Santi’s boots to echo in the open space and they stand for a moment, taking it all in. They’ve been to a handful of different tattoo shops. It never gets old to see frames upon frames of art and knick-knacks stacked over the walls. The old-fashioned feel of Velvet Ink has got to be one of their favorites.

“Did you bring your portfolio? Tell me what you've been up to since we last talked.” June doesn't waste any time weaving through the lounge, grabbing a single folding chair leaning on the side of the wall beside the red leather couch. She doesn't need to look back to see if Santi is following, they trail after her like a lost puppy.

“I got it right here-” they lift their shoulder bag in emphasis, “I've been practicing on fake skin since we spoke, I have a few I wanted to show you, but they're nothing huge.”

“Wow, you're on that shit, huh? Sounds about right, knowing you.” June chuckles as she sifts through her desk. She swipes a few things into a drawer, making space for Santi's portfolio.

“Okay, hand it over. Let's see what you've added.”

“It's not that much-”

“I didn't ask how much it was, kid, I asked you to hand it over,” she retorts, tapping the table. Santi sits down in the folding chair June dragged over and begins to sift through their bag. They feel a twinge of annoyance, smothered by embarrassment. They haven't been called kid in a long time, but seeing the peppering of grey in her long black hair makes them feel a little less patronized.

Instead of responding, Santi dropped the binder on June's desk. They dug around for a few of the fake skin sheets. When they pulled it out, June took it, her thumb tracing a circle to feel the texture. She huffed in amusement but didn’t comment. It's not like they bought the expensive stuff, just a cheap machine kit, black ink, and a few sheets of fake skin. They learned only to buy the nice stuff once they could actually draw a line without ripping through the material. Having a heavy hand while sketching never bothered them, but it's a nightmare when tattooing.

“Looks good for a first attempt,” she said, breaking the silence of the empty shop. June traced a finger down some of the darker portions. She admires the piece depicting an animal skull, a bear, being carefully cracked down the middle by human fingers on either side.

“You need to be lighter in some places, but your art is beautiful. You have a real understanding of technique, but it won't transfer to the body the way you're thinking it will.”

That's high praise coming from someone as skilled as June, Santi gives her a weak smile as they tug their tongue piercing with their teeth. They spend another half an hour discussing their art with June and getting a very short lesson on how to use the transfer paper printers in the shop.

The bell rings in the front as two people walk in, nudging each other and laughing up a storm. Santi sits up straighter to get a better look. It then clicks that they both work here, their profiles are on Velvet Ink's website. The both of them have unique styles from what they can remember.

The taller one with short, choppy blonde bangs, known as Sawyer, has a neo-traditional style. They use a lot of bright colors and bold lines, their style is something Santi has never considered having a tattoo of, but they couldn't help but attempt a few neo-traditional artworks after they spent almost an hour scrolling through their social media.

The other artist dabbles in many styles, but they're popular for their watercolor tattoos. Santi thinks idly that her multicolored pastel hair makes her look exactly as her art does. What was her name again? It was a flower, that's for sure. Lily, maybe? They can't remember.

June greets the both of them as they walk in, and they cheer her name in sync.

“June! Is that your new apprentice?” Sawyer asks, B-lining it over to them.

“Yeah, Sawyer, Iris, meet Santi-” June gets quickly interrupted by who they now know as Iris.

“Woah! That’s sick, can I see that?” She leans over the half-wall, pointing to the many sheets of artwork on June’s desk.

“You alright with that, kid?”

“Yeah, go for it, some of them are kind of old though,” Santi gathers a few of their favorite pieces in their clammy hands and passes them over to Iris, they can only hope she didn’t notice them shaking. Sawyer peaks their head over her shoulder to make their own assessment at the same time, reaching over and pointing out a few details. Santi can’t see them from where they sit, so they wait (im)patiently for them to finish their appraisals.

“Huh, you took classes, didn’t you?” Sawyer has their eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed by what they see.

“I got a minor in fine art, yeah.”

“I can tell, this is some good stuff, let me know if you need a canvas-” their striking green gaze pans to the torn-up fake skin, “actually, on second thought, I’ll wait a bit longer on that.”

“Ah, I’ve got a heavy hand,” Santi responds, sheepishly tugging on their septum piercing with a wide grin.

“That's fine! You’ll just need tougher clients,” Iris jokes with a wink.

“Don’t give them any ideas, Iris. It’s their first day,” June cuts in, fondly exasperated with her coworkers.

“Just because they’re new, doesn’t mean they get any special treatment. Isn’t that right, Sawyer?” For a moment, Sawyer stares off into the distance as Iris pats their forearm with a cheeky grin. They grow quiet when June doesn’t respond right away. She looks at the practice design from earlier, something soft smooths the crow’s feet around her eyes. There’s a flutter in Santi’s stomach, making a home right below their ribcage as June traces the lines for a second time.

“You’ll get used to it, Santi. I have no doubt you’ll fit right in,” June says, and Santi can’t help but agree.

[skinnyazn]

The Masks We Wear

Ch.4 Takes place after In the Bleak Midwinter Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader (Jaguar) Chapters: 4/4 Notes: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT THIS IS EXPLICIT SHIT, We did it folks!, the final chapter, Ghost realizes he's just body slammed Jag into the floor, what's he gonna do???, very very smutty chapter, thanks for sticking to the end!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | AO3 | MASTERLIST

Violent coughing filled the room as you struggled to get air back in your lungs. Your vision burned white, like blinking in the dark after staring at a light for too long. Specks flickered across the room while you struggled to focus. It felt like the corset was constricting tighter against your torso, squeezing all your organs to mush. Couldn’t breathe. The wood floor was cool against your palms as you sucked in another gasp of air.

The towering man in the skull mask stood motionless in front of you. Wide eyes behind blonde lashes stared down at your convulsing body. You’d never been on the receiving side of his violence; it was terrifying. People you know can hurt you the most. Stupid, stupid. The lack of oxygen and sedative were really messing with your head now. The beast of a man turned and strode soundlessly to the door.

You wiped the back of your hand under your nose and leaned flush against the wall, limbs heavy beside you, chest heaving. Simon hesitated between the doorframe. His bulk blended into the blackness; you couldn’t tell where the room ended and he began. He squeezed his hands into fists by his side. The leather groaned in dark.

Whipping around, he closed the distance in the blink of an eye. You immediately scrabbled for the knife as he crouched down, placing the point of its blade against his chest. Right over his heart. His eyes burned into yours like coals, smoldering and too hot and suffocating. Your hands trembled now. Couldn’t fucking breathe.

He ignored the discomfort of the knife as he leaned forward slowly, tugging off his gloves with fluidity. It was like you were frozen in place, heart threatening to burst if you moved—waiting to see if he’d strike you again and finish his job. What a way to go. But then, with the softness of his first kiss, he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks, smearing the black mascara that had run down. An apology. The tears had come from the coughing but now they wouldn’t stop.

“Jag…” Simon breathed, low and shaky and full of regret. His gaze darted to the blooming marks across your neck, then to your ruined face—eyes overflowing with shame behind those blonde lashes.

A warm hand covered both of yours. Your knuckles were white from how tightly you were gripping the knife. He hesitated—a silent ask for permission, then slowly pushed the blade away from his chest. Against your better judgement, you let him disarm you; the weapon thunked against the floor.

“Always making me cry…” Your voice faltered as you spoke.

He let out a shaky exhale, still holding you like some delicate thing.

“Sorry, luv.”

Love. That must be why.

You leaned back against the wall. “What are we doing here, Simon?”

“Was on a mission.” He didn’t remove his large hands from where he held you. “Four months to set up, Jag. Four.” Couldn’t meet your gaze anymore.

You shook your head slowly. “But I beat you to Ludovico.” It came out hoarse.

Simon sucked in a breath. “Nope. Was 'ere for someone else.” He paused. “Can’t get ‘im now, though. Mission failed.” The words enunciated; his eyes, back on you.

You sobered under that gaze, blinking to clear your lachrymal face. 

“Oops.”

Simon let out a sharp exhale, nodding. The gold mask glinted in the darkness. “Yeah. Oops.”

You couldn’t breathe again, but for entirely different reasons this time. Heavy under the hollows of the skull, Simon’s gaze pierced you hotly. He always had such expressive eyes… You reached up and removed the gilded mask, disarming him now. All the rough edges and sharpness gone; only thin black fabric left. A calloused thumb stroked over your knuckles.

“You never replied…” he murmured.

Gentle hands lifted the rim of the black fabric, exposing his full lips and scars—your favorite part of his face. His bulk gravitated closer to you, closing the rift between your bodies. How could you find the words to convey the impossibility of it all? I was scared. I’ve never had a liability before. What we had burned too quickly, too intensely. I haven’t known peace since you.

“Oops,” you said instead.

And then his hands were on you as he pulled you onto his lap, kissing you to make up for the year’s absence. 

They were wet and hot and thorough. His large hands worshiped you, caressing down your arms and over the binding of your corset, while yours punished him—clawing over the thick fabric of his costume.

“I missed you so fucking much,” you whispered in a moment of vulnerability. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t tell what from anymore.

He held your face still, pulling back to look into your eyes. You melted under that gaze. “So fucking much…” he agreed, kissing across your jaw and down your neck.

Moans filled the room as he grazed and sucked at your pulse point. Your hands fumbled with the back of his mask—fingers craving the softness of his hair. Despite all the fabric of your costumes, you could feel him getting hard as you straddled him and moved your hips. Moments ago you were terrified of the man under you but now you couldn’t feel safer in his arms. Stupid, stupid.

Simon stood in one swift motion, lifting your lean body up with ease. You wrapped your legs around his torso as his mouth fell back on yours, consuming it with hasty kisses. He stumbled over to the bed, lowering you onto the surface, but you let out a hiss at the contact. Being body slammed into the fucking hardwood floor earlier left you back aching. He pulled away.

“Tender?”

You nodded.

“Turn around, then.”

You obliged. 

“Loosen this fucking thing,” you awkwardly reached for the corset strings as you bent over the bed.

His chuckle came out low and rich, and it sent a flush of heat throughout your body. But his touch was gentle as he undid the laces, kissing the bend of your neck while loosening the garment. You could finally breathe again. 

Leaving it halfway undone, Simon moved to your pants—a much easier endeavor. He slipped them over your hips. Your skin prickled with the contrast of the exposed air. 

“Fuuuucking ‘ell,” he said under his breath. It sent more goosebumps across your flesh.

You glanced over your shoulder as best as you could in your current, bruised state. It was worth it. Simon’s face was dark, filled lust and want—no, need; like you were salvational for a man lost in sin. He wasted no time before delving into your folds with his tongue and mouth. Your knees buckled and you pressed into the bed.

“Fuck, Simon,” you moaned into the surface, gripping a fistful of the sheets.

His hot tongue laved over your pussy, drenching it with a mix of his saliva and your wetness. Hungry, slick sounds filled the room as he sucked and kissed and worked you with his mouth. It felt so fucking good. His big hands squeezed your thighs, spanning almost their entirety. Rough and calloused, they chafed your sensitive skin as he moved them upward, spreading your ass apart. He dragged his tongue up to taste you further.

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasped into the bed, canting your hips as he sloppily ate your ass. His thumb massaged your clit and rubbed the slick between your folds while his tongue teased your entrance. All the pleasure was dizzying.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, luv,” he murmured against you, pulling back slightly to watch you writhe under his touch. He pressed harder circles into your clit before finally sliding his thumb up through the folds of your soaked pussy. Your legs buckled.

He switched to his middle and ring finger as he continued to eat you out. Loud moans were all you could manage at the pleasure of being finger fucked by him. You felt the heat building in your core as he undulated them inside you while thumbing your clit.

“Thassit. Need you to come for me, doll,” he said against you. The squelching sounds that filled the room were obscene. “Come on, take what you need…”

You pushed the building pleasure from your mind, concentrating on your breathing and the discomfort of the corset digging into your ribs.

“Need you to fuck me, Simon,” you ground out. “I wanna come on your cock.”

A growl was the only way to describe the animalistic sound that Simon emitted before yanking down his pants and replacing his two fingers with his dripping hardness. The breath was knocked out of you as he sunk all the way to the hilt. You missed how delicious it felt being stretched open by the Ghost.

His grip was tight around your hips as he pounded into you at a relentless pace. Each thrust threatened to split you in half as something primal took over him. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you blithered incoherently into the sheets.

“Yes, fuck! Use me. Just like that,” the syllables were pounded out of you. “Please don’t fucking stop!” Your cries were muffled into the sheets.

Simon groaned and fucked you even harder at your begging. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours permeated throughout the simple room. You couldn’t hold back the orgasm that burst through your body as you came hard on his cock. His thrusts stuttered as you pulsed tightly around him.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl. Take everything you want from me,” he practically mewled. But you were so lost in your orgasm that you couldn’t even make out the rest of what he said as you spasmed underneath him.

It wasn’t long before the behemoth of a man followed. Hot cum filled you painfully deep, dripping out of you between each finishing thrust. You wanted to forever be ruined by him—to let him break you. Maybe he already had. Simon groaned into your neck as he sunk down on top of you—the weight of him crushing your small frame. He reached for your hands and ensconced them under his. It was perfection.

“Stay inside me forever,” you said as you felt him eventually get soft.

His breath warmed the side of your face as he actually laughed. It was a blissful sound. You clenched around him; he pressed you deeper into the bed.

“Anything you want, luv,” he murmured into your neck, slowly thrusting into you again. You could feel him growing harder as you moaned under his weight. 

Simon traced small kisses across your cheek, over your ear, down your neck. The fabric from his mask scratched at your skin. Each thrust was languid, relaxed. Like time didn’t matter. It was maddeningly gentle. Your lips parted softly.

Twisting around to kiss him, a sharp pain shot through your spine and stopped you.

“Ahhh,” you hissed, and buried your face back into the bed.

“Sorry, doll,” Simon muttered, carefully getting off of you. The absence of him left you feeling hollow. He rolled to his side; your wetness and his cum shimmered against his massive thighs under the diffused moonlight; his cock somewhat hard.

You groaned as you righted yourself, sitting up ungracefully on the bed.

“Apology accepted.” You moved toward his trunks for thighs and licked up his length, tasting the both of you mixed together. Simon sucked in a breath—his dark eyes heavy on you. You placed a soft kiss on the head of his cock.

“Dangerous, Jag…”

Smiling, you got up and reached over on the floor, sliding your computer from the mess of your belongings. Simon watched as you took the hard-drive from the pocket of your pants that were still pooled at your feet. With some effort, you reclined on your side and inserted the drive to the computer. Its electronic glow illuminated your face as the data transferred. He chuckled at your resolve.

The beautiful man laid on his back, exhaling and pulling his fabric mask back down. Simon pressed into his comm. 

“Soap, how copy?” It came out gruff. Un-composed.

You watched him over the rim of the screen. So that was Soap in the green and black.

“Soap, how—” Simon tensed; his jaw shifted under the mask. “…Heard all that?”

You smirked. What you would give to see the blush creep across his cheeks. Shifting your computer to the side, you climbed toward Simon, leaning in close to his mic.

“Hi Johnny.” Simon’s hands squeezed your ass hard as his breath hitched. All you could do was bite your lip in return. His gaze was lustful on you.

“That’s for sure,” The beautiful man cleared his throat, looking away now. “What’s the status of Yosef?”

Watching the way Simon’s chest rose, and how his eyes were now focused and sharp, made you think that maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe everything you wanted—needed—was right here. Laying calmly in front of you.

“Copy. Pull out and let’s meet at the rendezvous. This mission is over. We’ll find another way to secure Yosef.” This time he clicked off the mic.

Pushing away from the bed, you slipped off the rest of your costume. His cum dripped out of you; it’s tackiness on your inner thigh. You wiped it away before sliding on new panties, jeans, and a black turtleneck. You began to pack your things.

Behind you, Simon shifted on the bed. You could hear the rustle of fabric as he stood and dressed. He crouched down next to you and began collecting your belongings he had spilled earlier.

He handed you the computer. The transfer was complete.

“Thanks.” You secured it in your duffle.

“So.”

“So,” you replied, standing now. The skull mask was back on; all that vulnerability locked away.

“This is goodbye, then."

“Yeah… Suppose it is.”

“Right.” His eyes lingered on yours for a moment, wishing that there was more, before he turned and briskly walked toward the door.

“Simon?”

He paused.

“Where’s the rendezvous point?”

The colossus of a man turned around; his stance as rigid as earlier.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

“Well, seeing how my mission here is done, and how you’ll need my expertise catching this Yosef man again…” you trailed off and looked at him mischievously.

Simon walked back to you, cocking his head as he looked down. The outfit suited him; such a gorgeous man.

“Thought you worked alone, sweet’eart.”

“I did until I ran into this big pain in my ass—” but you were cut short as he lifted you and brought you back to the bed, his mask buried into the crook of your neck. You giggled as his hands found their way under your shirt and over your breasts. “What about Johnny?”

“Johnny can wait.”

“Should we switch the mic back on?”

He pinched at your nipple, giving you daggers for a glare.

“Easy now, Jag.” He continued kissing your neck. “Don’t want to make the boy too jealous.”

“Of me or you?”

But Simon only gave a gruff chuckle as he took his time undressing you again.

__________

I hope y'all enjoyed it! Here's the banter between Soap and Ghost while he was on the call.

“Soap, how copy? Soap, how—”

“You’re out o’ your mind, L.T..”

“….Heard all that?”

“Aye. Every single grunt and moan.”

“Hi Johnny.”

“Steamin’ Jesus. You’re both out o’ your minds.”

“That’s for sure. What’s the status of Yosef?”

“He’s still in the palace, but they’ve found out the data’s missing. Shit’s getting a wee bit squirrelly here.”

“Copy. Pull out and let’s meet at the rendezvous. This mission is over. We’ll find another way to secure Yosef.”

“Feckin' hell. We were so close… Heading to the rendezvous.”

__________

For those who asked to be tagged.

@deadbranch @k4marina @solidly-indulgent @embers-of-alluring @shuttlelauncher81 @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @tomhardy41

[im-ovulating]

Kinktober Day 3

Reblogs are appreciated🛐

Hope you enjoy~❤️

Word Count: 1,008

Summary- Who is your boyfriend to deny you when you both oh so love the beautiful art of pain?

Navigation

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

Warnings: Spanking/Caning, Slight Masochism, Leather/Gloves, Aftercare

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Fanart Credit

Mr. Compress x Sub! Male! Reader

----------------------

Your cry fills the room as Atsuhiro's cane comes down on your ass for the nth time that night. The soothing touch of the cool leather gloves he wears follow the biting pain of the polished wood. As much as it hurt, it fed the fire licking at your insides even more. The pain leaving an almost sick, sadistic amount of pleasure in its wake. He knew it too and didn't hold back. Each strike of the rod finding its mark on your already red ass.

You've cum twice from the beating alone, but you can't help wanting to continue. Especially when you feel the hardness of your partner's cock pressing against you as he leans over your form.

"Color." Atsuhiro demands as he reaches around to stroke at your cock.

Never one to deny pleasure, you don't hesitate to answer. Not when you know that's your signal that the real fun is about to start.

"Green." You can't help the bucking of your hips as he continued to rub you off.

Your third orgasm of the night rips through you with a deep groan when Atsuhiro cups your balls, massaging them before giving them a borderline painful squeeze.

You can hear the clank of the cane hitting the floor before the noise of his belt being undone. He leans over you to ruffle through the drawer of the bedside table, producing a bottle of lube and righting himself once more. You hear the pop of the cap followed by the squelch of it squeezing out into his hand before he reaches between your thighs, spreading them a bit more to expose your puckered asshole.

You'd feel embarrassed at being on full display while Atsuhiro was fully clothed, but he's got his slicked finger circling your rim in the most delicious way, so you can't bring yourself to care too much. Definitely not when you can feel the lubed-up leather-clad digit start to breach.

As he starts to piston his finger in and out of you, you can feel yourself start to rock back in attempt to take it deeper as the tension dissipates. Before you know it, Atsuhiro's adding another digit and begins scissoring you.

You're panting at this point, feeling so close to yet another release but unable to push over the edge. Yet another finger joins the first two and the sinful moan that leaves your parted lips only serve to make Atsuhiro's dick even harder. After scissoring you a bit more, he deems you ready for his cock.

He slicks himself up and lines it up with your now gaping hole. His hand drags up your spine to push you deeper into the mattress, your face pressing into the pillows as he teases you, rubbing his tip around before shoving his full length in in one go.

Not giving you time to adjust, Atsu immediately sets a rough pace, jackhammering into you and forcing moans to leave you. Your breath is punched from your lungs with every hit to your prostate and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to tipping over the edge that's been toying with you.

He's grunting lowly in your ear with each thrust as he holds your hips in a bruising grip, going impossibly deeper and deeper with each piston.

All it takes is one more hit to that bundle of nerves and your cumming all over the sheets once again. The oversensitivity of everything has you crying out in discomfort to the point of pleading with him to at least slow down. Your pleas are met with nothing but a condescending "You know your safe word, if you really want me to stop all you have to do is say it."

He's right, you don't want it to actually stop. You relished in that pain just as much as the pleasure. So, when you feel that pressure mounting before the last of high of your previous climax has worn off, you do little more than bit down on the pillowcase beneath you in protest.

Sobs are racking your body as Atsuhiro continues to pound into your tender ass, his grunts turning into full on groans. The constant abuse to your prostate both hell and heaven sent in a way that has you seeing stars. You're babbling a mixture between asking the magician to keep fucking you and to slow down or stop. Either way it's incoherent.

The universe answer both of your requests, though. You can feel as Atsu's hips start to stutter and lose their rhythm before he spills his hot and heavy load into your ass.

The sensation pulls one final climax from you before your limbs give out and you drop to your stomach.

Atsuhiro lazily thrusts into you a couple more times to ride out your highs before pulling out and watching as his cum spills out of you, slowly dripping down to your balls. He's got to hold back a groan as the sight threatens to get him hard again.

He shuffles off the bed to haphazardly pull his slacks back on before leaving the room. He returns shortly with your favorite snack and a bottle of water.

"Not right now... M'sticky.." You mumble out as you slowly shift on to your back.

"I know, just eat this and drink some of the water, hm? I've already got a bath running." Atsuhiro coaxes.

"I used your favorite bath bomb~" It's a last-ditch effort short of just forcibly carrying you.

Once you're fed and hydrated, he's carrying you to the bath before sliding in behind you. He grabs your favorite shampoo and conditioner and washes your hair as you sleepily relax against his chest.

He guides you to sit up a bit when he has to wash your back, cooing out a soft "I know, I know..." when you hiss as the washcloth passes over your sore ass.

By the time the sheets are changed and you're both back in bed, you're softly snoring as Atsu holds you tight to him.

[twistedisciple]

Before the Scars

Bishop Mastery drabble: 682

cw: gore

Everyone had to be good at something. Otherwise, you would die. Get thrown out, technically, but in the snowy wilds of Elusia, everyone knew what that meant. Back then, fear had not yet hardened and calcified into a defective, useless organ inside of Griss. It used to pump his blood so full of adrenaline that he’d spend his nights praying that Lord Sombron not abandon him, spend his days with a desperate sleeplessness in his sunken eyes. 

Like the other monks in the monastery, he’d been taught magic under the priests’ whips, and he’d watched the older cohorts split into two groups as the years passed: those that were awarded some modicum of prestige and a minor title within the church, and those that turned into grey monuments in the snow, fingers and toes blackened, eyes frozen wide open, waiting for a spring that would never come for them. Death did not scare him, and indeed the fear of death was counted among a handful of cardinal sins, but the souls of those that had succumbed as the defects had were trapped within the rejected flesh for eternity, never to decay, never to be a vessel for their lord’s power, their existence immortalized in a pillar of shame. Eternity was a long time, Griss knew that, but he saw it hurtling at him faster than he could run.

Each day, angry red welts were added to his arms and back, and each day he had nothing to show for them. Sometimes, he could conjure a little bit of a breeze, enough to sway the scraggly grass under his feet. Sometimes, a spark. But always the whip’s fierce lashing. He lacked focus, one of the priests said. He didn’t know how when he prayed every night. He kept praying, because there was nothing else he could do. The flagellum had even started to lose its edge.

Torn flesh fascinated him. He ripped his own open, stitched it together in pretty red zigzags, dug his fingers into the wounds of others, plucked out splinters and fragments of bone like an archaeologist, and closed them all up again. Curiosity cultivated an uncommon fearlessness which bred an even greater curiosity for all the different ways the body could be bent and broken, the sensations that came with it. How it could be put back together again. His own. Others. It didn’t matter whose, in the end.

No great epiphany had preceded the glow of the Heal staff under his palm one morning in the monastery’s iron-scented infirmary. It’d been abandoned by one of his fellows for just a moment, and Griss had swept in to prod at the swelling around the patient’s mangled elbow, searching for a source like an explorer charting the frontier, ignoring sleepy moans of discomfort even as he pressed his thumb hard against a lump and pitched the cries louder. Then it gave. The cries subsided. The fever heat cooled. The man treating him returned and chased Griss away with a few solid strikes from the staff’s blunt end.

It came with no fanfare, this talent. From that day on, he intuited his way around a variety of staves without picking up a book, driven by a curiosity toward the flesh and a resonant listening gifted to few - a kind of perfect pitch that he would never recognize as a gift until years later, with Zephia’s observation. He could recognize each staff by a series of shapes. Heal was a single, simple triangle. Recover was a red thread, three loops, ringed by seven triangles. And these were inarticulate instructions his body simply knew. A gift he learned to take for granted.

His lessons with the priests and their whips never stopped though, and neither did their criticism. There was nothing special about learning to use a staff, but there was nothing really special about learning to cast spells either. These were givens. The expected minimum to allow one shelter within Lord Sombron’s grace. Everyone had to be good at something, after all. Otherwise, you would die.

Griss did not fear death, and he never would again.

[mamichigo]

⚠️ (minor fighting/violence)

--

"You've gotten sloppy," Cyno comments coldly on the first night at Aaru Village that they get with no one else around.

Alhaitham looks up from his book and across the table. The General Mahamatra stands stiff at the corner, the figure of him intimidating and imposing. He hasn't changed one bit. That harsh way of giving feedback, too, is the same as ever.

"I'm assuming you're referring to our fight," Alhaitham hums. He returns to his book. "I'd say I held my own well, given I'm still alive and uninjured."

"Not for any merit of your own."

Alhaitham turns the page unhurriedly, and hears the irritated click of Cyno's tongue. He smirks.

"So you did go easy on me. I didn't think you had it in you."

Cyno doesn't fall for the provocation. "I didn't teach you how to fight just for you to ruin all my efforts. Your form was wrong."

"For what reason, then, did you teach me?" Alhaitham snapped his book shut. "We all know how busy the General Mahamatra is, why should he spend his time on just any stupid brat in the Akademiya. Isn't that right?"

"You acted as if you had a death wish."

"That was still none of your business."

They stare at each other, neither willing to back down. Alhaitham feels that familiar discomfort between his ribs, the need to get under Cyno's skin, to move that distant and ever righteous heart of his. If Cyno never admits to care for him, then Alhaitham will haunt his every waking hour until he can no longer ignore Alhaitham's existence.

"Draw your weapon," Cyno orders abruptly.

"And why should I? As you might remember, we're under strict orders not to get into more fights."

Cyno chuckles, dark and sardonic. It sends a shiver down his spine.

"I've never known you for following orders."

Alhaitham returned his smile in kind. "Perhaps you don't know me all that much then, General."

Cyno's eyes narrow.

"Draw your weapon and I'll teach you again. Properly this time, so you won't dare forget it."

He makes no move to summon his weapon. "You said it yourself, didn't you, my Mahamatra? I'm not very good at following orders."

He barely has the time to put his book away before Cyno lunges at him. The air crackles as he moves, but he barely makes a sound as he jumps perfectly over the table. The chair falls to the floor as Alhaitham dodges to the side, just barely out of range. One of Cyno's nails nicks his cheek, the sting of it sharp on his skin.

They exchange a look before Cyno is on the move again. He's more precise, more vicious than in their previous fight. It's only muscle memory that allows Alhaitham to perfectly parry every punch. There's no opening at all; Alhaitham can see now Cyno didn't lie about holding back before.

But is he supposed to be happy about that, satisfied that at least Cyno didn't want his head?

(This frustration, too, is familiar.

It's like being back at the Akademiya, doing anything to get the attention of the taciturn senior who wouldn't look his way. He had been young, and foolish too.)

As the adrenaline boils to the surface, so does the simmering annoyance. When Cyno moves to strike, Alhaitham steps to the side, and catches a fistful of his hair, close to the neck. Cyno gasps when he drags him close. They both come to a stop, panting.

Alhaitham is under no illusion that Cyno couldn't break loose if he wanted to. However, for that moment at least, Alhaitham has him. Fuming, yes, and glaring at him. But still willingly in Alhaitham's grasp.

"What do you want from me?" Alhaitham asks lowly. He's done with the games, with the pointless dancing.

Cyno looks up at him, eyes burning. "Nothing. I've never wanted anything from you."

Alhaitham drags him even closer, until he's pressed to his chest and hanging on his tiptoes. Alhaitham tilts his head and smiles without humor.

"Too bad, because I want everything from you."

The press of their mouths is painful, unforgiving. They stumble gracelessly towards the table, where Alhaitham pushes Cyno up onto it, allowing him better reach, better access. He scrapes his nails along Cyno's scalp, down to his neck, delights in his responding growl. As if to get back at him, Cyno bites down on his lip close to bleeding.

Alhaitham chuckles against his mouth, and the ease of it somehow gentles their movements. He puts a hand on Cyno's naked waist, thumbs at the firm skin. Cyno moves to the side for air, their noses nuzzled together. Alhaitham quickly claims his mouth again, enjoying the haziness of oxygen escaping his lungs.

If Cyno had any protests before, they died in his throat. Instead, he watches Alhaitham through his lashes, soft in a way that he doubts anyone else is privy to.

"Everything?" Cyno asks between kisses.

"Everything," Alhaitham promises.

[bmodiwrites]

You Light My Fire

Hi friends! I'm checking in with a shameless little smutty 3(+1). I'm trying to get over my block so I let my mind go where it wanted. Here's hoping I find some more words soon! This is pure naughtiness so minors, please don't do the interacting thing. You can read a little tease of it down below and catch the entire thing over on AO3!

Two years into their relationship, Eddie finally lets Steve top him. 

Despite Steve’s overall disposition, he’s quite the fan of becoming a needy pillow princess if the occasion strikes. Eddie has a way with his hands that makes Steve send up a little nod of thanks to whoever decided to give Eddie his taste for music. Learning the guitar gives Eddie the most nimble hands and Steve is there to selfishly reap the benefits. 

In fact, things are so good in that department that Steve doesn’t even think about the disparity between them. He’s satisfied with everything in his life. From the job at the sheriff’s office to where he and Eddie are in their relationship, Steve’s genuinely satisfied. There’s nothing missing. 

Eddie, however, doesn’t feel the same. 

One evening they’re sitting on their couch after dinner when Eddie brings up the subject. “How come you never try to fuck me?” It’s said so innocently that it takes a second for Steve to understand the question. It takes even longer for the weight of Eddie’s inquiry to sink in. Eddie is hunting for something and Steve’s on the other side of his scope. 

“It’s never crossed my mind,” Steve eventually answers, shooting for honesty over any other babbled excuse he might come up with. For a second it seems like the wrong move but Eddie eventually carries on without finding offense. 

“Why not?” Eddie’s eyes are wide and filled with open curiosity. 

Turning a little on the couch cushion, Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Our sex life is amazing. You’ve never left me wanting. Why should I question what works? I figured if you wanted something different, you’d ask.” 

Eddie huffs out a sarcastic laugh, then says, “well, I am.” 

Confused, Steve quirks a brow. “You are what?” 

“Asking. I’m asking you to fuck me,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes like Steve is the obtuse one. Never mind the fact that this whole exchange has been the definition of awkward and obscure. 

Pushing past that, because Steve knows this is hard for Eddie, he simply nods. Even adds a soft smile in for good measure. “Okay.” 

Eddie looks at him, staring longingly into Steve’s soul, before he nods, too. His eyes roam over Steve again for a second longer. Then – “okay.” 

Despite getting that out of the way, Eddie doesn’t fall onto Steve’s cock right away. It takes another couple of weeks for Eddie to slip the lube in Steve’s direction instead of opening the cap to do the work himself. 

Steve learns, after several emotional conversations, that Eddie had a bad experience with someone who tried to take what wasn’t being given. Since then, the thought of anyone making him vulnerable is nausea inducing. Steve is the only person Eddie’s told, let alone felt comfortable enough to try and push past his discomfort with. There’s a reason why Eddie was a virgin when they first met. 

That little piece of truth makes Steve even more excited for that moment to come. Such a special thing like trust isn’t always given. Especially after something earth shattering like attempted assault. Steve is honored to know Eddie’s mind, soul, and body want all of him. It means a lot to be given such a gift and he wants to make the most of it. 

Read the rest on AO3

tag list (message if you’d like to be added): @infinite-orangepeel, @thefreakandthehair, @corrodedcoughin, @prettyboisteveharrington, 

[iinafarawaygalaxii]

Assassin's Creed Valhalla | Freyja’s Promise

Forever Bound: Chapter 4

Summary: Being blindsided is a feeling most people find discomforting. For Eivor? It was a direct sting to her nerves. She was one known for her blinding rage but this unexpected turn of events lead her to new, unfiltered feelings she had yet to experience. Requiring more than just time but space. Will she say yes and become Queen of Mercia? Or continue her regular life as the Jarl of her bustling Kingdom of Ravensthorpe?

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, Angst, Fluff, SFW

WC: 5.6k

Notes:

-My wattpad has more uploaded if you would like to read further!

Assassins Creed Valhalla | Eivor Varinsdottir x Vili Hemmingston

'I tire of these mind games',

Tears streamed down her face, whipped away by the wind as she urged Aesir to her limits. The forest blurred around her, a desperate flight fueled by the overwhelming information that threatened to crack her open and expend her limits. "Damn it-", she muttered, a fierce determination replacing the despair in her eyes and with a final crack of the reins, surging Aesir forward- bursting from the trees into the open expanse of Eurvicscire.

Into Freedom.

The sun had blessed their voyage, guiding her through the fresh blanket of snow as fast as they could go and as far as she could. When she closed her eyes she had instantly spawned vivid memories of her first arriving at Jorvik with the dew of slaughter on her back and Vili at her side. It made her feel restless when opening them again to see the small indent of the trail they took up to the mountains together, covered by snow from the amount of time that had passed since her slumber, slowing Aesir down to reminisce when times were simple.

Though it was so quiet.

The wind- a relentless drum against her ears, and the frigid air were her only companions. Surveying the barren landscape in melancholy. A pang of longing striking her for Ravensthorpe, a place teeming with life. Here, there were no drones of bees, nor fragrant lavender blooms painting the spring air. Absent were the watchful calls of Synin's ravens circling overhead and the industrious clamor of her clan building their new home as they celebrated day after day for their achievements. This desolate expanse felt sterile, a frozen tomb encasing her nostalgia and a burgeoning regret.

With a flick of the reins, she spurred her mount deeper into the forest, seeking solace in the familiar embrace of the trees ahead, "Ah... Here it is-" She exclaimed riding up to waterfall stream she saw nearly a month ago, where she would make camp for the day and take time for herself to unpack everything she was told only hours ago. Though the hunger that gnawed at her stomach since she woke showed its unbearable face- a sharp contrast to the turmoil churning within her mind.

Pausing for a moment, she casted a fishing line and quickly snagged her meal bringing it back to the fire for consumption. A small, defiant spark against the encroaching darkness that seems to cloud her fate as she calmly prepared her meal.  "There, there-" She murmured to her stomach, a strained attempt at normalcy despite the urgency to feed the hunger gnawing in her gut- feeling her hands tremble as she prepped the fish, bearing the weight of her thoughts that threatened to topple over.

A mere month ago, the thought of relinquishing the title of Jarlskona or saying goodbye to her clan, would have been unthinkable.  Had she known, every moment would have been savored, a celebration of the life she was leaving behind.  But the dream she'd nurtured for her people had blossomed into reality in a way she did not wish to. Thrusting her into the role of their more than just their Jarl- but their Queen... The very tip of the spear that would guide them towards their destiny.

Here in Jorvik.

An unsettling feeling simmered in her akin to the lingering resentment she still harbored towards Sigurd. The choices he made without her input as the will of their clan, still stung. Yet, looking at the state of Mercia and Northumbria, she couldn't deny the logic behind them. It was a decision she would have likely made herself, given the circumstances. "Nows as good a time as any," she muttered under her breath, frustration tinged with a touch of acceptance as a sigh escaped her lips, focused on cleaning the fish she'd caught. The repetitive motion a temporary balm to the turmoil within.

The moments she enjoyed the most.

The prospect of independence – the freedom to raid, pillage, take long forest rides, or even fish at her whim – was intoxicating. She was a free spirit, and surprisingly, so was her "best friend."  Despite the chaos he caused becoming a Jarl. Vili's acceptance of the throne brought a smile to her face. "Just like him," she murmured, a touch of amusement in her voice at this unexpected turn of events between her own liberation and Vili's rise to power seeing how fate had set the stage for an interesting future.

Now truly feeling what it was like in his moment of obscurity first becoming a leader against his will. Either way, she understood the pressure he was in- after all if the picts invade England- Northumbria is the first to get hit, which Mercia cannot allow. She threw the stick in the fire- watching it burn with the same madness she felt inside of her as she plucked the fish meat from its bones till it was dry. "Bass has never been better." She exclaimed casting its carcass into the fire and watched it burn.

Continuously, endlessly-

The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows that mirrored the turmoil within her. On one hand, the weight of her parents' words echoed in her soul, urging her to fulfill their dream of a unified England and the other in prospect of marrying Vili- felt like a shackle, an unwelcome burden amidst her freedom but a desire she has longed for. With a resolute sigh, she rose, kicking dirt into the dying embers. "Aseir!" she yelled, the name- a summoning to action. She mounted her wolf, her gaze hardening with determination. They wanted a Queen, and a Queen they would have. But the crown wouldn't come with a forced marriage. That, she decided, could wait. Now was the time for war... and war?

Was something she was exceptionally good at.

-

She arrived at the grave site of Halfdan the Great. To apologize for not being there when he needed it. Leaving her to simmer in a pot of guilt as history kept repeating itself in the most atrocious ways. First her parents, then her friends- her clan, Ceowulf- Ubba.... A tear streamed down her cheek. Freezing solid in the air before it even make its drop, "Im sorry old man..." She said to the stone overlooking the capital city of Jorvik, in the cold of day, where his funeral was held. "Till we meet again, old friend..." She said placed a winter flower at the bed of the rock leaning in for prayer to gods she knows doesn't exist in the way they were raised to believe.

It was hard to think about where the people go who aren't Isu. It was even harder to keep a secret as hushed like this- especially from the man everyone wanted her to marry. The one who may or may not be Isu himself- after learning these... species of humans are naturally attracted to each other. Nevertheless- She had finally accept that, she is going to be Queen and she would run her kingdom with honestly and humility- like her parents did for her clan long ago, starting first with Vili. "I need to speak with him..." She whispered to herself as she spun around and saw the culprit behind.

"Im sorry, if I startled you-",

A flower from Vili found its place next to hers on Halfdan's stone and she grinned. The two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder as Jorvik stretched out before them in silent contemplation. The wind, turning ever chillier and equally biting, whipped their hair gently across their faces. Vili let out a sigh, breaking the stillness that was forming in this never ending battle of silence.  "Do you remember, A few years ago, in a scene like this when we were sending my father off to Valhalla?" A mischievous glint entered his eyes, "You stood boldly- confidently next to me as I announce my heirdom and acceptance to lead the people of Snottinghamscire... As I recall- you slapped me back into thinking it was the right choice..."  He turned to her, a playful grin splitting his face.

"You needed it."

A chuckle escaped her lips as Vili finished his story, chest puffed with mocked pride as curiosity flickered in her eyes awaiting his next move standing adjacent to each other. Then, with lightning speed, his hand shot out, connecting with her cheek with a SLAP that echoed like thunder claps of Thor shooting across the barren landscape. 

She reached up with her fingertips, stunned- brushing a burning red patch where his palm had met flesh feeling the wind sweep across her bruising skin that sent a jolt of a freezing numbness through her.  But the shock was quickly replaced by icy fury.  Her smile vanished, replaced by a stony glare and a raised brow and with a swift movement. She hooked an arm around his neck, a primal snarl escaping her lips.

"I already came to the conclusion, Ergi!"

She growled playfully, digging her fist into his head with tough swirls as till they toppled over on a snow drift in the infinite struggle of flirtatious play. Their laughter echoed across the barren plains as they engaged in a playful fight. An age-old dance of flirtation disguised as combat.

"Eivor! Eivor- Okay... stop!", Vili sputtered, his voice muffled by the snow now packed into his face feeling her straddle him, gripping thee fabric of his chest in one hand while shoveling snow into his face with the other. He retaliated, grabbing a handful and launching a counter-attack, successfully smooshing the cold paste against her cheek. Her laughter turned into a shriek as she tackled him, their chuckles mingling with the wind. She continued straddling him, her smile devilish as she, pile by pile, shoved the icy pellets down the front of his shirt- relishing the sounds of his muffled groans and playful struggles.

For only but a moment, they weren't King and Queen- burdened by a crown stuffed to the brim with duty and destiny. Here? Now? In this snowy haven Eivor once carried regret for, they were simply- Eivor and Vili. Two Drengr rediscovering the simple pleasure of shared laughter and playful connection- two friends with everlasting respect for one another and a growing love they fear to admit.

"Ah yeesss, take it in Ergi- Let it be a lesson on your foolishness- Ha!"

He recognized the truth in her words as he stopped resisting and let her continue when she realized he was no longer in a playful mood, "You're right Wolf-Kissed... Im sorry-" He said as she dropped the snow from her hand- Her fingers red from the cold and cheeks pink with envy, watching his calm himself so quickly so... elegantly that spoke to his growth in his time as King thus far- feeling his hands, surprisingly warm despite the snow, brush against her waist as he lifted her to their feet.

The snow clung to him like a second skin, revealing the impressive contours of his muscles beneath his dampened tunic.  A slow smile played on her lips as her gaze wandered upwards, meeting his.  There, in the depths of his eyes, a spark ignited – a look that spoke volumes more than words ever could- The playful battle had turned into a different kind of dance, one laced with unspoken desire and a hint of what could be.

"Later... for that Wolf-Kissed."

He said kissing her frozen fingers after taking note of her seductive glance, "Not necessary..." She responded as a small sneeze ensued tucking herself into her cape to avoid anymore...touching. He chuckled from her candor, "Come on, lets get you inside before you fall ill again. Never thought the great Wolf-Kissed would be so... feeble-" he joked watching her fist shoot for him with a hearty punch. "-Owe!" A guttural laugh rumbled from Vili's chest as he rubbed the spot where her playful assault had landed.  The sound vibrated through her, a mix of amusement and something deeper.

Her gaze lingered on his hand brushing against the reddened area when their eyes met and a silent conversation passed between them. "You calling me weak?" She chimed with a raised brow, circling him enticingly before taking to her mount as they both took off towards Jorvik and back to their campaign against the picts. And as they were trotting through town, the locals were curiously watching- wondering if this would be the day England would unite under one banner, or still be ruled as two separate entities. Excited- to see the two childhood sweet hearts so close. Some even jealous the raven holds the belt of the king himself in one hand and his heart in another, igniting a bitter sweet envy across the land that couldn't fathom seeing their prince loving someone other than them.

"You seem to have a lot of admirers..."

Eivor exclaimed hearing Vili's voice, rough with laughter, drift back to her ears as he pulled the reigns on Bjonir's to ride in tandem, "There's only one I truly need..." He murmured, with a wink. Their eyes meeting and sharing a grin that bloomed on their faces as their playful banter resumed- a familiar dance they'd known for years. Yet, beneath the surface, everything had shifted.  This easy camaraderie was beginning to feel like a dangerous tightrope that was barely understood.

A glance at Vili, radiating charisma amongst his people, sent a familiar warmth blooming in her chest forcing a soft smile to escape her lips, but it was a struggle to mask the depth of her emotions. Every touch, every stolen glance, chipped away at the wall she'd so desperately built and with each passing moment, the lines blurred together, threatening to shatter the carefully constructed barrier altogether.

Eivor and Vili thundered into the longhouse grounds, side by side. As they pulled their mounts to a halt, Vili's voice boomed, "Alright Wolf-Kissed, What do you say we plan a war?"  The playful nickname, meant to rile her, yanked her out of her contemplative mood watching Vili dismount from his wolf, who nudged him playfully with his snout, further shattering her focus.

He extended a hand to help her down with a mischievous glint in his eye.  "Seriously?" She deadpanned, feigning exasperation. Vili simply winked, nodding towards the gathering crowd who wished to see better things than what they were experiencing, his gaze holding hers for a beat too long as a silent plea for her cooperation. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Eivor took his hand with a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips.  The spectacle, she realized, might just provide the perfect distraction they needed... for now.

"You know... I can dismount on my own Arse-Stick..."

She placed her hands on his shoulders accepting his gesture out of respect for the locale watching, letting her down with a plop as she felt her energy begin to dwindle. "Let's plan a war" She winked entering the longhouse in haste with Vili at her side as the leaders looked to the new royals, genuinely relieved that their first issue was resolved in anticipation for Eivors guidance and wisdom in the upcoming battles. Hoping.... she would make the right decision to unite England.

Although Sigurd was still salty...

Staring at his sister with contempt as she joined them at the war table. "Looks painful." Eivor grinned to her brother who rolled his eyes wondering about only one thing. "Whats your decision little sister, or did you want to use me as a personal punching bag for your temper again?" He clapped back forcing the raven to raise a brow and fold her arms. "Tempting..." She quipped returning her attention to the map whilst hearing the chatters of the horde skirmishing around the halls in preparation of a war as Ceowulf approached placing a hand on her shoulder,

"We do need to know your decision to plan accordingly Wolf-Kissed. Im hoping you would humble an old man and spare him from the frugalities of war-",

A single, fleeting glance at Vili was all she allowed herself before her hand splayed across the table, tracing the lines of the pict map with a furrowed brow. Her father's voice boomed in her memory: "Conquering England is your destiny." A stark reminder of the grand tapestry the fates had woven for her, a path far removed from the playful banter she'd shared with Vili moments ago.

"It could be worse,"

She murmured, forcing her shoulders back and straightening her posture. A weight settled on her heart, a heavy counterpoint to the growing warmth in her chest whenever Vili was near as she scanned the faces gathered in the hall, her gaze finally settled on the King. With a decisive thump of her fist against the war table silencing the room to hear her speak. Many already drawn by her charisma with the promise of glory, but others needing her commitment whole heartedly- seeing them flock towards the King's stage in haste. In that moment, Eivor, The Legend, took center stage. Pushing down the growing emotions that threatened to unravel her carefully constructed resolve;

"I know my death." she says, "I have see it in a vision not long before I came here with my brother and clan- to England-" Eivor's gaze swept across the hall, lingering on the weathered faces of the gathered leaders, then settling on the expectant crowd. The weight of their hopes and unwavering belief in her destiny, pressed down upon her like a ton of boulders with no escape in sight. "-And because of that, I carry no fear. The only thing I hate- is not knowing how I got there or what I had done to deserve it... But let it be heard-"

Confident grins blossomed across the crowd's faces. Some crossed arms, settling in to listen, while others vibrated with anticipation, on the brink of celebration. The raven's pronouncement hung heavy in the air as some began to hold their breath. "-That I, Eivor Varinsdottir- Jarlskona of Ravensclan, can control my fate and make my life as I see fit- to protect those of my clan and my allies... family and friends. I thought being a Jarlskona would do just that, but it seems fate flys on swifter wings that we. So here... Now- Eivor Varinsdottir the Jarlskona of Ravensclan is no more. She will be now known as Eivor, Wolf-Kissed-" She panned across the crowd, striking confidence into them and herself as she goes to announce,

"The Queen of Mercia."

"SKALLLLLLL!" The hall erupted in celebration bringing joy to everyone faces including the leaders as Eivor turned to see Vili smiling graciously and bowing in her direction. She blushed a little, preparing herself for the next part as she turned back to everyone in silence- who all took note of her poster, pacifying themselves to hear the rest. "And....as my first ruling-", She continued, igniting deep thoughts of Vili as she panned back to the crowd confidently, placing a hand over her chest;

"The Queen of Mercia... accepts the King of Northumbrias marriage proposal."

"JAAAAA!!!!!!" The crowd grew in an uproar- a cause for celebration as the leaders felt a great weight lift off their chest, solidifying the forces they need to battle the adversaries who threatened her and England's safety. It was almost too hard to quell them- letting news be spread far and wide as more people from around the city drew in to hear the disclosure,

"But first-!"

Vili held a hand up to quell the crowds as he took Eivor's and pulled out a golden arm band- showing it to the ton. "This is our symbol of an oath between both our great kingdoms-!" he took her arm and moved the cape out of the way, sliding the arm piece up to her bicep. "A token of loyalty and trust.... and this-," He pulled out a second beautifully adorned silver arm band with gold trimming and crystal clear gems that could be seen at a distance by the naked eye- fitting for, not only a queen, but for someone special- meaningful to him.

"A token of our commitment- A gift fit for a woman such as yourself..." Sliding the second below the first showing his own arm bands with designs completely parallel to her own- signifying their union. She grazed her fingers across the delicate artwork in awe from such a appealing sight, "Its beautiful..." She murmured as the locals groaned- green with envy, some even crying whom known the royals since they were children... Relieved that they finally came together as one- as it always should've been.

The unexpected gift left Eivor speechless. It wasn't just the craftsmanship...The way their family sigils, the Wolf and Raven, intertwined in a stunning tableau with the wolf running and the raven hovering above- two separate entities charging through Midgard as one. Here, in this intricate design, their separate journeys representing their strength of intertwined independence, would've taken years to procure as it carried a saga of its own. "The Wolf and the Raven", she whispered tracing her fingers across the ornament. This...was them- It had always been. Their Saga.... feeling her eyes weld when she realized the truth behind their relationship.

He pulled her out of her thoughts by grazing a finger across her cheek as her eyes shot up now sharing an intimate moment with him in the way they always do without realizing. "You went through great lengths to procure this for me Arse-Stick. Are you trying to tell me something?" She grinned flirtatiously, cowering behind their title as 'childhood friends' that Vili has been so desperately trying to change since the first day she saw her in Snottingham.

"I told you... Its King now-"

He murmured, kissing her hand before returning to the crowd, leaving the blushing raven in silence. "England will be whole one day. We only ask for your patience through these difficult times and most importantly.... to have courage. For all those who stand here today....know- that during our rule, EVERYONE matters. From the smallest fisherman to royalty- From Saxon to Dane. I swear to you... no-" He walked up to Eivor taking her hand with confidence as they've done many times before, showing their unity to the ton. "We swear, that we will put you all first." He finished watching Eivor grab the closets horn she could find, raising it up to the Northumbrian King.

"Skal-"

She exclaimed as everyone followed suit, igniting an involuntary feast of celebration now setting aside their worldly problems to celebrate the, 'Reign of the Future'  bringing a warm smile to Ceowulf who finally gets the reprieve he so desperately needed to explore the world as he sees fit- till the day his saga ends and joins his wife and son in the afterlife. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, 'I am no longer a puppet King.' He thought feeling his freedom sore as high as his spirits as he watched Eivor and Vili lock horns, finishing multiple cups of mead to celebrate.

"Come lets us feast!" Ceowulf exclaimed.

The tables filled to the brim, roasted lamb and pig, exotic fruits and nuts piled high. The bard's music swelled, filling the hall with a joyous energy that sent feet stomping and voices raised in song. Mead flowed freely, fueling laughter and merriment for hours watching Vili and Eivor move effortlessly among their people, two figures bound by destiny and a growing connection that mirrored the peace they brought to these diverse clans.

Ceowulf watched with a smile tugging at his lips remembering his own wife in political union- blossoming into love. Now, as he observed stolen glances and hidden smiles between Eivor and Vili, a familiar warmth kindled within him. But beneath the amusement lurked a hint of concern. He knew their hearts, their desires, even as they valiantly fought against them and was worried about the outcome of Eivor compartmentalizing enough to make it all fall apart. He had only one mission now- to make her realize it. He wanted her to know-

That he knew.

"Tell us a story about devotion Eivor!"  Ceowulf drunkingly exclaimed ousting Eivor to embrace her feelings as the crowds agreed and wanted a good story to solidify the night, turning to England very best Skald who holds many names- Eivor the Silver Tongued, she is now.

"No, no... I cant!"

She exclaimed downing another horn of mead before wiping the remnants off her face as Vili picked her up and sat her on the war table, filling her next cup. "Oh come on Eivor- humor an old man- my wife and son are gone... remind me what its like to first experience the fruits of affection-" Ceowulf begged raising a glass to her as he signaled the bard to stop playing, forcing the hall quiet. She rolled her eyes knowing where he was going with this but- carried a soft spot for the old man, bending to his will with ease

"Oh alright..."

She gave into the pressure... although she had no story to give. All she could think about was the first time she had felt passion in a new light as everyone huddled close to the stage, keying into their new Queen and ready to hear a tail of someone who discards love every chance she gets. A fitting story- given the celebration. "Right well..." She threaded her hands through her head instantly thinking of Vili as an immediate blush rose to her cheeks.

'No'

She told herself wanting to keep her feelings at a minimum for a story she feels so strongly about...but it was the only story she had. The only one that fits whats Ceowulf seeks as she pondered- glancing at Northumbria's King and back to herself wondering if sharing something so...sensitive was worth it. She threw a horn of mead down, ready to give this story as a gift, that she will now regale by tale; A saga she shared with the King of Northumbria that still remains special to her till this day...

"Come, Gather round and let me regale you of a tale to satisfy your hugr. My King-" she raised a brow and hopped off the table- facing the ton. "There was a time... Many, many, winters ago. Where a girl had lost everything. Her family, her friends, her clan... From an oath breaker- too fierce to comply and too ignorant to see reason-", She paused now making eye contact with the crowd as she continues her story remembering her early years. She started slowly pacing along the stage with a horn of mead in hand- grinning from a memory that showed itself so clearly,

"The girl.... managed to escape but was later caught on the edge of death herself, hearing the hoofbeats of Valkyries carry out into the distance- coming to guide her to the Grey Land. It wasn't until the beautiful women appeared before her in their gold gilded armor, emerging from the smoke that smothered the air dry from the raid; that the Valkyrie cupped the little girls cheek, whispering. 'It is not your time'... as the Odin sent goddess placed her hand over the little girls wound making a bright white light appear-"

Eivor reached her hand to the sky, reenacting the scene from her own flesh to heighten the story as she continued;

"The girl laid bloody on a sheet of thin ice, reaching her hand to Valhalla- to her family.... as her vision began to fade from the loss of blood. It wasn't until a boy, with eyes as blue as her own that glowed in the moonlight, slid down a mound of snow and carefully trekked across the ice to pull her ashore.... He immediately applied pressure to her wound and took her hand- "every things going to be okay", he whispered, wrapping her in the cape he came with to keep her alive as long as possible, until help arrived... and by the time that little girl woke up- seeing what little remained of her clan, her hugr went blank and her voice- silent.... for many many moons."

Randvi and Sigurd began to recognize the origins of this story, looking to Vili who was grinning to his childhood sweetheart in surprise she would share something so private. His memories began to flood at this time, recollecting the first time they may have actually fallen in love forcing his world slow. He watched as Eivor peaked to the side- looking down at the ground with a chide smile before continuing- building tension between the two royals at an astonishing rate;

"The girl vowed nothing but revenge on the oath breaker- to free her family from the dishonor he casted upon them and the whole of her clan, ready to train as hard as she could for the simple pleasure murdering the bacraut who took everything away from her and when the girl announced her intentions-  it was the boy who pulled her from the ice that stood at her side declaring his intentions to protect her from harm and aid in her excursion. A foolish request from a child so little- but one nonetheless. Her first oath...."

She balled her fist realize their bond after all these years had never broken regardless of distance, regardless of location and now they were here- engaged and ready to pacify an entire country together. Who would've thought- being brought back together again by some higher power she didn't understand would make her this happy as she slowly started making her way throughout the ton and continued.

"It wasn't long before the girl and the boy formed an unbreakable bond- getting in trouble with the clan leaders at every turn, going on adventures that children their age wouldn't do. They were inseparable for as long as 10 winters, growing up together... Until rumors carried of a land so green you could spit on the ground and grow crops- making the flood of norse and dane alike flee for greener shore. The boys clan was one of many that decided to venture off to these new lands beginning the creation of the Great Heathen Army- setting up home here in England due to the instability of where they had been then...."

Eivor's mind began to falter as her heart skipped a beat, remembering the first time she ever felt true devotion. She fell silent and started making her way back to the Kings stage- back to Ceowulf and Vili. Her hair glistening in the fire light as the shadows of the objects around casted along the room some of which highlighting her curves through her tunic. The belt that wrapped snug around her waist made Vili look at his own hands. Remembering the feeling and gentleness of her skin the first time their bodies touched under the waterfall many moons ago.

The mead really started to kick in when he panned back to her and only seeing desire, feeling his breath became heavy and his heart thump forcefully each step she took, hypnotized by the gods sent raven while praying to Freyja for resolve. Eivor recognized this behavior, now realizing the truth behind the volvas words because she too felt the warmth grow the closer she got to him.

At the end of the day, when she thinks of love and the pathway to it... He is the first person she sees as a blush emerged on both their faces when she walked by. She took her place back on the stage before turning to the crowd with a soft smile- one Eivor does not give that peaking everyones interest as it now came down to the part the old King desired;

"On the day the boy set sail, the winds were gruesome- inviting chaos on the waters between here and 'greener shores'. But the boys clan did not care, putting their faith in the gods to carry them to this bountiful land by water steed. A formidable journey across the salt licked seas that wasn't one to take lightly... It wasn't until moments before the boy boarded that the girl finally stepped up yelling, 'Dont go!' when the panic set in- facing death of her loved ones, all over again... The boy looked to his father who gave him a quiet nod before he walked up to the girl on the dock, embracing her into his arms- if only but a moment. His tightened embrace was calming, a place where she felt safe and secure, somewhere... she always wanted to be. He looked down to her, seeing Freyja's tears drip down her soft cheeks as the boy he.... he-"

She paused, looking at her hand as the blush that sat idle on her cheeks rose to her ears, now realizing how in love she was from oversharing. Something she never thought could happen in the slightest, leading her to blame it on the alcohol to sooth her concerns that made the pause last longer than before. She felt her heart start to race from the revelation- rendered speechless, till Vili intervened- saving the night by finishing the story himself.

"He grabbed her hand- calloused and beaten from the sheer amount of hunting and wooden sword fights they battled and kissed it. Like this-" He walked up to Eivor on the stage, finishing his horn of mead before placing it on the table and took her hand, kissing it gently and faced her as he continued, "He asked her plainly, 'Is this what death feels like?' and the sodden girl responded-"

"Eerily familiar...."

Eivor cooed locking eyes with Vili in a nostalgia only known to them as Ceowulf had finally felt secured in his decisions seeing soft grins emerge from their face. The masses hearts beginning to explode out of their chest while others lay jealous from their union. Surmising that this story was based off their past as the King of Northumbria continued;

"The boy had a decision to make, a childish one- to stake his claim over her in front of all those clans who saw the boys clan off or tell her to forget him. But the amount of admiration he held for her-" He covered his chest with his hand and turned back to the crowd who saw the candor in his eyes as he shook his head and looked back to her "-couldn't let the latter happen... and needed to speak his truth." He slowly strolled back to Eivor seeing her eyes narrow and trying her best not to smirk, "He tilted the girls chin with his finger and said 'Well...let me show you what love feels like.' And kissed her-"

Villi hovered before her , bringing her lips close as an 'example' for the crowd, even though he wanted to do this for selfish reasons as her hands went up to his chest, in turn, kissing in front of all the leaders and civilians that were here today. The sudden shock to everyone left gasps in the room as the hall fell silent, watching Vili slowly let go of her and take a few steps back before turning back to the crowd and finish the story seeing Eivor's fingers graze the bottom of her lip;

"- leaving the girl in a storm of her own as the boy boarded his ship. And once they began to take the water steed across the whale road, the girl ran to the edge of the dock and yelled, 'Never forget me!', waving her hand in the cold air of Norway for the boy to see, tears streaming down her face from happiness. She watched as the boy thumped his fist over his heart, mouthing 'Till will meet again', before sailing off into the distance leaving everything he's known... and loved- behind"

Vili panned back to Eivor at the edge of the kings stage grinning widely as he continued, "It was many summers before the boy- now a man, saw the girl...now- a woman-" he straightened his back remembering the first time their bodies touched, skin to skin. His mouth parted as they made eye contact trying not to break their promise.... But the more that they story went on, the more that decision seemed faulty- at best.

"Strong, bold, and fierce-" Eivor cut him off, walking up to meet him face to face, "Reunited again..." He finished. "And both became Jarls- soon to pacify the motherland itself- together, in union as King.... and Queen" Sigurd announced at the base of the stage with a horn of mead in hand. "Skal..." He announced raising his horn high in the sky.

"SKALLLL"

The boisterous spirit returned to the hall. Some clutched loved ones close, while others reveled in the simple joy of a captivating tale. Soon enough, the crowd descended upon the newly-engaged couple, peppering them with questions and overenthusiastic well-wishes for their future. Hours melted away as they patiently soothed the well-meaning throng, stealing glances at each other amidst the conversations however, Ceowulf couldn't shake the pang in his heart for his family.

Deciding to bring the long evening to a close as he turned towards his heir with a sad glint in his eye. "There's one final gesture I must make before we retire, Eivor! Come-!" He announced, his voice cutting through the merry din. A hush fell over the hall, all eyes turning expectantly towards the couple watching Vili take her hand and lead her to the old king.

The old man raised his hand to simmer the crowds as everyone watched intently seeing the Raven and King of Northumbria make their way to the stage. "Eivor, my dearest friend..." Ceowulf cupped her face as her hands went up to incase his, welcoming the loving nature the old King gave in frugality- and truly only to her. "A gift...", He reached for the crown on his head and lifted it slowly, showing it to the crowd first, then the raven herself.

"Heavy...sits the head of one who wears the crown."

He muttered, "It will become a burden- but now... it is a burden you can share-" He looked to Vili and back to Eivor seeing her fall on one knee. "-There is no more need for Saxon or Dane kings. Now sits two who will bring change and equality to the land. May you reign with prosperity, compassion, and wisdom. Though I have faith....you will just do that Eivor Varinsdottir of Ravensclan- Our hero of England.", He paused setting the crown on her head.

"I King Ceowulf, First of his name- Name you, Queen of Mercia-"

Previous - Next

[flawsfatal]

if  you’re  hearing  SIX  by  I  WOULD  SET  MYSELF  ON  FIRE  FOR  YOU  playing,  you  have  to  know  HARRIER  “HAL”  BRENNAN  (HE/HIM;  CIS  MAN)  is  near  by!  the  35  year  old  AUTO  MECHANIC  has  been  in  denver  for,  like,  TWO  YEARS.  they’re  known  to  be  quite  IMPULSIVE,  but  being  ENDURING  seems  to  balance  that  out.  or  maybe  it’s  the  fact  that  they  resemble  MATT  BOMER.  personally,  i’d  love  to  know  more  about  them  seeing  as  how  they’ve  got  those  AXLE  GREASE  ON  WOOLEN  SWEATERS,  TORN  OUT  PAGES  IN  OLD  JOURNALS,  MUD  CAKED  ON  SKIN  vibes.  and  maybe  i’ll  get  my  chance  if  i  hang  out  around  the  LAKERIDGE  DISTRICT  long  enough!

tw: heavy substance abuse, brief, undetailed mentions of sa.

it’s  nuclear  family  archetype—his  parents  are  loving,  his  needs  are  attended,  his  wants  are  indulged  when  reasonable,  his  elder  brother  and  he  are  close.  hal  grows  up  with  the  world  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  he  is  bright,  wants  so  desperately  to  work  in  aircraft  engineering,  to  build  and  design  the  jets  his  brother  had  his  hand  in  flying.  

the  exact,  focal  moment  of  destruction  comes  when  he  is  seventeen.  it  comes  with  the  smell  of  cigarette  smoke,  the  feel  of  a  coarse  mattress  underneath  him,  regret,  loss  of  autonomy.  his  first  love,  his  first  crush,  and  he  is  far  too  drunk  to  do  anything  but  survive.  he  leaves  pieces  of  himself  there  that  he  has  yet  to  recover  in  full,  loses  the  ability  to  feel  anything  but  murk,  until—

euphoria,  dissolved  in  a  spoon,  in  the  rundown  kitchen  of  a  friend  of  a  friend’s  apartment.  strikes  a  match  in  his  veins  and  suddenly  the  discomfort,  the  overtightness  of  his  own  skin  fades.  it  was  an  off-switch  to  the  agony  he  could  not  put  words  to,  and  he  lost  himself  in  it,  lost  everything.

it  took  a  very  long  time  for  his  parents  to  cut  him  off  in  spite  of  his  obvious  descent.  his  brother—richard—was  much  quicker  to  stop  enabling  him,  drew  the  line  when  hal  refused  treatment,  but  he  was  their  baby  boy,  no  matter  how  volatile  and  sick  the  substance  abuse  made  him.

after  they  do,  hal  lives  on  the  streets  for  several  years,  struggling  to  get  back  on  his  feet,  not  entirely  convinced  being  sober  is  an  option  for  him.  he  tries  to  get  clean  on  his  own  a  few  times,  more  than  a  few,  but  the  numbness  that  comes  with  sobriety  eats  him  alive,  he  knows  no  other  way  to  feel.  

it  takes  time.  it  takes  hospital  visits,  it  takes  almost  dying.  it  takes  rehab,  relapse  and  then  rehab  again.  finally,  he  claws  himself  to  four  month  sober  and  catches  a  flight  to  denver,  to  start  anew,  perhaps  against  his  better  judgement.  

it’s  not  aeroplanes,  but  it  is  mechanics,  and  hal  proves  proficient  enough.  he  works  engines,  works  cars,  and  there’s  peace  in  that.  his  apartment  is  small  and  lived  in,  he’s  managed  to  keep  nearly  clean  in  the  past  two  years  since  coming  to  denver,  save  some  minor  scuffs  to  his  record  that  he  manages  to  wean  off  of  without  help.

[finniestoncrane]

Lovely Finnie~!! Congratulations~!! 🎉🎊🎉🎊🥳🥳🥳🤩🤩🏆🏆 We're so proud of you~!!

If you've a mind, may I get a #9? Pretty please? 🥺

I am an American, I live out west, and I'm a nurse assistant! (If you've ever been to a hospital, odds are you met one of me! We work with the registered nurses to make sure our patients are well taken care of, clean, happy, healthy, and safe!) (At least I think so, we aren't exclusively American are we?) (Let me know if I'm talking too much >///>) My method of assistance is usually "Show me what you can do, I'll do the rest" mostly because they just got out of surgery. But I also know when to push my patients, and stand my ground if they get too mean or back off if they start getting physical.

In my free time I'm a writer, I write fanfiction, too~! On ao3! I started on FF.net about... lord in heaven, 15 or so years ago? (I'm turning 30 this year, ugh) I listen to music (a lot of musicals and Broadway), play video games (rpgs), and do 3d puzzles and wood kits (lots of them 🙃)!

Fun fact! Before I worked in the hospital, I worked in a prison! XD I have a lot of stories from working there, let me tell you. (Also a nursing home before that, so loots of stories from there, too)

(If it matters, I'm thereabouts 5'5, plus size, and pale. Dark hair and green eyes.)

(If you can't work with this, no worries, completely understand~! Again, congratulations~!! 🥳 have a treat special from me~! 🍪🍰)

🎀 No.9: Ever Fallen In Love With Someone 🎀

tell me a little bit about yourself and i'll give you a rogue pairing a/n: thank you so much!! ;-; 💚 ok this was difficult, i almost chose a different boy (a scarecrow, oddly enough) but then i just knew in my heart this was right 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

ok i don't mean to make comments about his age but hello? when he reaches a point where he can no longer do his cool zippy moves with his gadget, a live in nurse wouldn't hurt to have around. and i think he would appreciate your methods. he's independent, but would be so stubborn and would never tell you he needed help. so you would be perfect for him in that sense

he can also be a but rude and a little bit stand-offish and you seem like you're tough enough to handle that, but understanding enough to know it comes from a place of hurt and discomfort more than hate or malice, which is important to him because he might find it difficult to control his emotions or reactions

he strikes me as the kind of guy who would be very much into quiet hobbies like reading and writing, so he would probably be very keen to read what you wrote, especially if it was a little risque (also side note, i'm also 30 this year and started on ff.net around the same time EEP!!)

and 3D puzzles???? wood kits??? are you trying to give him a heart attack? he can't possible love someone that much, but you whack one of those out on a friday night and ask him to join you and he'll literally be head over heels

the drama this man exudes? you can't convince me he isn't into musical theatre and wouldn't plan special weekend trips with you just to go see as many shows as you can possibly fit in

ah, ok remember i said you'd be able to handle him? with prison experience that just makes you even more capable. and honestly, as much as the various riddlers might not enjoy being held in blackgate, there might be something deeply erotic and kinky lurking within the surface that a commanding tone of voice would trigger well...

he's not very tall, so you're perfect height for him! he can still feel bigger, which would make him feel a bit more dominant (fragile ego, y'know?)

and the dark hair and green eyes? i headcanon that every riddler is so full of themselves that they would fall in love with someone who shares the same features as them, so tick that box too

and look, i think puzzle grampa deserves someone plush to snuggle into, he's all bones, he needs warmth and softness!!