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jinwoosbabyboo · 28 days ago

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Trippin', Fallin' With No Safety Net

My headcanons of the lads men with a clumsy reader [Requested by: Anon]

��𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

this man is damn near giving himself an anxiety attack worrying about you when you're not with him

covers the corner of the table with his hand when you lean down to pick something up

cuts your food for you now because you cut your finger one time and gave him a heart attack

his reflexes have sharpened from having to catch you every time you trip

keeps a pair of sneakers and flats in his car in case you drink when you two are out because he knows you'll stumble and fall in a pair of heels

would switch out his sharp cornered coffee table for an oval shaped one because you kept hitting your knee on it

places all your extra pillows on the floor on your side of the bed after you rolled off one night

keeps first aid kits everywhere because you're a walking hazard to yourself

does not let you grab a glass from a shelf you can barely reach

doesn't let you carry more than one bag because you tried to make one trip with the grocery bags and fell head first into a wall

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

still laughs every time you trip or fall "are you okay?" "stop laughing!" "I'm sorry the noise you made was funny"

holds your hand or waist when you walk up/down the stairs because you've fallen one too many times

if you drop something at the table he'll pick it up for you

gets rid of the rugs you somehow keep tripping on

is fighting for his life trying to keep you off the counters when you can't reach something

you slipped in the shower one time and gave yourself a concussion now he won't let you shower alone

subtly childproofs his house

is always confused whenever you trip, fall or get stuck "now how the hell did you do that?" "I don't know Raf help me!"

constantly pretends to toss you stuff "Think fast!" " STOP IM NOT GONNA CATCH IT!" he's already cackling on the floor

side steps you to throw you off balance on purpose; always catches you when you start falling

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

you fell down the stairs once and now he happily carries you up and down them whenever he's with you

covers the corner of the table with his hand when you drop something and lean down to pick it up

also showers with you now after you slipped one time

doesn't let your carry more than one plate

gets a google home or Alexa so you can speak to turn the lights on because you tend to run into walls looking for light switches

grabs everything you can't reach after you pulled an entire shelf down on yourself in public

sends you check-in texts to make sure you haven't hurt yourself when he doesn't see you (not that you'd admit it anyway)

is so used to your clumsiness he can almost sense when something is about to go wrong

secretly finds your clumsiness cute and now he has another reason to have you in his arms at all times

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

Sylus is probably the perfect man to be with because his evol would be perfect for protecting you

places his hand on your head when you lean down to pick something up to stop you from bumping it on anything

buys you fluffy slippers to wear around the house so your pinky toe stops banging everything in the house

wraps his evol around you when he catches you climbing on something

you cut yourself with a knife once and he hid them for only him and the chef to use after that

has the twins keep an eye on you when he's not around

replaces any tables with sharp corners for smooth edged tables

has his shower renovated with pebble stone flooring so you don't slip

takes your heels and carries you when you start stumbling

keeps a hand on your waist when going up or down the stairs

is so used to you falling all the time its almost like his evol acts on it's own to catch you

uses your clumsiness as a reason for why he should go with you everywhere

gets rid of every rug in the house and opts to get heated floors because you keep tripping on the rugs, but he knew you'd complain about the cold floors

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lnds rafayel #lnds zayne #lnds xavier #lnds #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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heich0e · 2 months ago

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"I find you exasperating."

You go out of your way to step on a particularly dry looking leaf along the path—stained a deep, golden colour and curling at the edges where it rests waiting for the weight of your foot—just to hear the way it crunches beneath the sole of your shoe. At your side, Kakashi's attention is still on the book in his hand, the pages spread open only with his thumb and pinkie finger while the other three support the cracked spine. He doesn't spare you a glance, but he does deign to respond with a curious little hum.

"That's an awfully big word."

The lazy way he says it is enough to irritate you, but his condescending words are almost too much for you to bear. You stop in your tracks, fists curled tightly at your sides, and the white haired young man doesn't so much as slow in recognition of it.

It's fall in Konoha, and while the days are still warm and bright, the breeze that whisks through the village's winding streets is cool. The annoyance you feel prickling under your skin is enough to insulate you from the chill. To numb you to its bite.

You swoop down, dragging your hand lightly along the path to retrieve a handful of small, smooth stones—no larger than the tips of your fingers. Without a moment's contemplation, you launch one at the back of Kakashi's head, and watch as it bounces off dully.

He keeps walking.

"Irksome."

Another pebble hits the ground after ricocheting off the back of his headband.

"Vexatious."

The next makes contact with his right shoulderblade.

"Antagonistic."

He catches this one—just like he could have caught any of the previous three—without even turning around to watch you throw it. His hand, the one not holding his book, shoots up to protect his ear before the pebble can make contact. He holds it pinched between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, still leisurely walking away from you, before he flicks it to the ground.

"You're being so childish today," Kakashi calls back over his shoulder. "Are you sure I'm the antagonist here?"

You hear it then, the smile in his voice, and even though it would only serve to legitimize his accusation it almost makes you stomp your foot petulantly.

"Kakashi!"

Finally, he turns to face you, and even though his mask conceals most of his expression, you can tell it's hiding a grin beneath it. He tilts his head to the side, as though waiting for you to continue.

"How many times have you read that stupid book?"

The familiar novel is closed now, and his page marked, though you're not entirely certain when he did either of those things. He glances at the paperback, as though considering it carefully.

"How many times am I allowed to admit to before you call me a pervert?" he asks.

"You are a pervert," you answer, immediate and sure, while slowly walking towards him to close the gap he put between the two of you. "And you would be even if you were illiterate."

"That's not very nice of you to say," he says, tipping his head back and sighing profoundly as though your insult caused him great pain.

"It's the truth, though."

Kakashi peeks down at you from the corner of his eye as you stand by his side. Without thinking, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket, averting your gaze.

It's quiet for a moment. Just the two of you, the fall breeze, the scattered pebbles, and that atrocious romance book.

"You've been gone for a month," your voice is quiet when you finally speak again. So soft it risks being carried away with the wind.

Kakashi didn't even tell you he was leaving before he was sent off on this last mission; you had to find out from another shinobi the next morning, and all they could tell you was he was gone and they weren't sure when he'd be back.

This isn't unusual with Kakashi. It's happened more times than you care to count. Missions that force him to leave the village at short notice are unavoidable—assignments like that to be expected for any shinobi, but particularly for one of Kakashi's rank.

It doesn't make it any easier.

You've thought about bringing this up to him before. Thought about asking him to tell you when these sorts of things come up. Thought about explaining to him how awful it feels to be the last to know. Thought about telling him what those long days apart feel like in this village without him.

But you don't.

Part of it is pride, you think. You're too stubborn to be the one to show your hand like that. To be vulnerable in front of him in such a mortifying, humbling way. Somehow the mere idea of making any of those admissions seems more embarrassing than trailing along behind him tossing rocks at the back of his head.

Another part is fear. You don't want to be the one to speak this thing between the two of you into existence. To give it shape. To breathe life into it by giving it a name. You and Kakashi have always lived in intentional ambiguity. A certain uncertainty. You're not quite friends, you're not quite lovers, you're not quite anything at all.

You're just the one who's left waiting for him to come home.

And then there's the last part—the biggest part—that holds you back. The part you don't quite know how to explain. The part that tells you to bear the pain of missing him, to swallow down your longing, for his sake if not your own. The last thing Kakashi needs is the burden of knowing his duty makes you ache while he's away. That his absence keeps you awake at night. He's got enough he needs to shoulder without you adding to the weight, and this is the least you can do to try and help him carry it.

You let his sleeve slip from your grasp.

"Sorry," you mutter under your breath, shaking yourself from your momentary stupor.

"Are you acting out because I haven't given you enough attention?" Kakashi asks, only his voice is different now than it was a moment prior. Sincere in a way that upsets you more than when he's being intentionally annoying.

You finally bring yourself to look at him, but only to shoot him a narrow-eyed glare.

His own gaze is disarmingly soft when you meet it. Unexpectedly tender. Perceptive in ways you usually choose to overlook.

So much so, in fact, that you're too stunned to even flinch when he taps his book against your forehead.

"Ok, ok," he says with a shrug, spinning on his heel and continuing on down the path at an idle pace, leaving you dumbfounded in his wake. "If you wanted to borrow it, you could've just asked!"

#kakashi x reader #hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto writing #naruto drabble #writing

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sun-kissy · 3 months ago

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crystals | r.b.

regulus black x whimsical!reader

“Baby,” Regulus’ voice comes out two parts affection and one part exasperation as he feels your knees pressing down into the bed on either side of him. You hum distractedly in response, mind wandering to places he knows he can never follow.

He cracks his eyes open, a small smile involuntarily making its way onto his face at the sight of you. You’re as pretty as you always are, so pretty he wonders if you’re actually a dryad of some sort. You certainly look the part, with daisies braided into your hair and miniature toadstool earrings.

He watches as you outstretch your fingers to fiddle with the chain on his neck, your eyebrows bunched in concentration. Your tongue juts out of your lip adorably as you bite down on it, and he resists the urge to kiss you senseless.

The chain Regulus was wearing was nothing more than a thick black string, but it was knotted around various small crystals, courtesy of your hobby of collecting them. When he had first asked you out with a ring, you had shyly given him this string with a single crystal hanging from it – a rose quartz. “For my unconditional love,” you had mumbled, blushing so hard he thought you mirrored a rose. But the pink that coated your cheeks was a lovelier shade than any flower he had laid his eyes on.

From then on, you would knot new crystals onto the string whenever you found them. Regulus was pretty sure some of them had to have been rocks or pebbles, but he loved you too much not to indulge you.

“Mon chéri,” he tries again, amusement seeping into his tone. “It’s 5 in the morning.”

“So?” you ask distractedly, your fingers still tugging and pulling his necklace from side to side. “5AM is when the crystals are most active, you know. This is when they pull the most power from the core of the earth,” you explain matter-of-factly, so dedicated to your task that you don’t notice his smile widening.

You sway forward slightly, unable to balance on the balls of your knees. Regulus silently wraps his palms around your hips, tugging downward until you’re comfortably seated on his stomach.

That was when he noticed you had odd-shaped stones in one of your hands, sunlight reflecting off of them to give a pale blue glow. “What are those?”

You perk up at his question, abandoning your task of trying to tie the stones onto the string. Your head tilts upwards to give him a sunny smile. “They’re aquamarine crystals, obviously.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his smile softening. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, it’s always just as endearing to him. The way you smile fondly at him – like he’s silly for not knowing.

“Yeah,” you beam. “I found these in the stream nearby, the one next to the big daisy field with all the horsies.”

“You walked into the water again, then?”

It’s too laden with fondness to sound accusatory, but you turn slightly sheepish anyway, nodding. Your hands find their way back to his necklace, and this time you manage to loop the string around a crystal successfully. Your face lights up, obviously pleased with your work.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to run his hands down your long skirt. As expected, he finds it damp and sticky. “You’ll have to take a bath, mon amour.”

“In the stream?”

“No,” he mutters, trying but failing to conceal his amused grin. He presses his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself upwards to press an amorous kiss to your forehead. He can’t help himself, the blush on your cheeks and the shy smile too much for his heart to handle. “In the shower, baby.”

“Oh,” you reply as a way of answer, and Regulus can’t help but chuckle at the slight disappointment in your voice. “Maybe I can shower in the water tomorrow, then? With all the ducks. These ducks are nice; they eat the bread I throw at them. You can come too if you’d like.”

“Maybe,” he replies indulgently, with absolutely no intention of letting you bathe with the ducks instead of with him — but he was never one to deny you anything you asked for.

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inknopewetrust · 11 months ago

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𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰

summary: in the blistering summer evening heat, you and felix play a little game. [felix x fem reader. WC: 2.6k]

warnings: smut. minors dni (18+ only). p in v, fingering (fem receiving), saltburn bathtub, slight voyeurism, dirty, dirty talk, some degrading language, not the dirtiest thing but still like… kinda hot?

Though the sun had set long before, the lingering scorch of the sun sat like a film on your skin. Its thin veil dry and aching to shrivel against the boiling water of the tub. You felt the sticky nature disappear under the trails of steam that painted the surface of the water.

A bead of sweat pebbled from your temple to cheek to chin to neck.

But you lit a cigarette anyway. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the crackle.

A blistering bud sizzles; the porcelain was drawing cool waves against the skin of your arms and for once, in the vast nothingness of the bathroom, the heat that rose from its surface made the ghosts vanish.

It made them disappear in house once home to Kings.

Now, as it boiled under the night sky, it was home to something other. It had bled itself into the walls and the ghosts wished to witness not the haggard scrounging of wealth that festered within.

But you imagined Henry the Eighth liked to stare as you bathed. They all did. Felix had told you that once a few summers ago.

How they all wanted to touch you in the ways that he did. How they wanted to whisper in your ear that they were better than him. No one truly was and it kept you crawling back with the poor souls who got sucked into a heated whirlpool of pity each and every summer.

Nevertheless, you envisioned Henry in the corner itching to touch.

They all trembled to flutter their hands onto your skin, onto your breasts, squeezing pieces of you dipped below the waterline.

If his ghost could smile, Henry’s ghastly teeth gleamed.

‘Fuck off, Henry,’ you saw the paunchy apparition lounging in the chair in the corner with a bead of sweat dribbling from his own temple.

Oh, envy, King Henry.

A bit of ash fell onto the tiles below.

“You’re making a mess of it.”

You tapped the cig on the side of the tub as another bit of ash wilted to the cold floor.

Felix hummed.

Stocky Henry vanished. If you gazed toward him, Felix’s eyes bore deep. Heavy and brooding, downcast at a peak of what existed beyond the bubbled suds.

Dinner had long passed. Everyone was supposed to be in bed.

He could feel you in inches. The soft skin of your back, the plush thighs that laid between his own. A hand of his traced over the skin of your collarbone gently as the ash continued to drift.

You were nearly on fire. In the swelter of the stone walls and the patterns of the paper before him, you glowed in a red sweat.

“You’re letting it die.”

“I was thinking,” you murmured.

“About what?”

“King Henry.”

“King Henry?” Felix’s voice peaked. His head leaned to rest on your shoulder, his smile leaving a trail as it grew. His nose drew a delicate line on your dampened skin.

You liked Felix in this way. So quiet and removed. But Saltburn always kept pace in the background.

“Yes, King Henry,” his hand glided along your own, gently taking hold of the cigarette and placing it between his lips.

The smoke of the puff rose high into the air beside you. It’s curls twisted like your insides aching for a touch too far but never too close.

“I like to imagine them sitting… staring at us now.”

“Now?” Felix questioned. “So erotic in an ugly tub. I can see him now,” he pointed to the corner of the room, “he just popped one. Can’t you see it? In his trousers there.”

You grinned. Your laugh filled his chest with a shuddering life. So fulfilled and free yet trapped in this same world as he.

And he was never far away. Here, in Saltburn, always waiting in the same shadows for the opportunity to strike while the others weren’t around. No sister or friends or parents or mewling poor fighting for his attention. They were retired for the evening; all snuggled in beds with curtains drawn and fantasy dancing in their heads.

“He isn’t the only one.”

You tipped your head to the side. The profile of your face meeting his forehead as he dipped his own downwards. The cigarette still burning from his fingertips. It was a mere bud now.

You could feel what waited for you on your lower back.

“I can feel that, you know?” You feigned an innocence he liked. Keen and blatant, but cunning with sin.

“Is it Henry that makes you feel that why?” You whispered, lips ghosting his chin.

Felix breathed in deeply. The same chest that shuddered with joy in anticipation.

Every summer.

The excitement would stir within his bones as the gates would open wide and beside his family would be the one steady thing he had everything to give.

“I hope,” Felix hushed, “for your own sake that’s not the fucking case.”

“So it’s me?”

Felix groaned as you pushed against him. The gentle pressure of your body arching into him without a touch, he begged to put his hands on you.

The cigarette fell to the floor in its end.

Felix took his hand and turned your head back to face him with a firm grip on your jaw. The water around you sloshed. It cleared the bubbles from your chest.

“I want to play a game,” he suggested in a dusty, breathless tone. “Want to play, darling?”

“Can I win?” You suggested. His hand loosened, letting the fingers dance along the column of your neck before beckoning up toward your mouth once more.

His index finger traced the outline of your lips. In a slow glide, Felix pulled your lower lip out slightly, gathering the wetness with his finger before inching it back to the space where your lips had parted.

You kissed his finger with your tongue as it found purchase in the suction of your mouth. The plushness of your tongue, the slight drag of your teeth as it emerged from between your lips.

“I don’t want to play if I can’t win, Felix,” you whispered.

His eyes now hooded with a thick want. He watched his finger redraw the lines of your lips again as you begged with doe eyes to win. A near child’s play of a woman’s ability to seduce.

“You can win,” Felix huffed as his other hand snaked itself from the edge of the tub to your torso under the water. “But I’ll need you to be quiet. We have guests and as much as I do love our dear, sweat guests, I can’t have them imagining the way I fuck you, can I?”

“No,” you relished in the way his hand returned to the base of your throat and squeezed with the slightest amusement. “I’ll be quiet.”

“Good,” Felix smiled at you. Your heart squeezed in the same way your cunt ached for his fingers to gather the strength to follow through.

“What do I win?”

“Whatever the fuck you want. You just have to be quiet.”

You smiled deviously that the thought.

“I can’t see how we’d be able to look a boy like Ollie in the eyes if he heard the sounds that come out of your mouth.”

His hand swooped past your center and to your leg, drawing one over his own which sat you straighter in his hold. You felt his cock jump at the pressure of you pushing on him. Felix flitted his finger tips from your knee to waist, switching hands to bring his wet palm to your breast while the other perched your opposite leg over his other.

The pebbled nipple was taut as he kneaded the skin in circles. He pressed down hard, pulling up on your nipple to elicit the sounds he wanted so badly to hear but knew you’d repress.

You were like him in many ways. He too wanted to win a game of control.

With you in his hands like a play of putty, he felt in control but with one hand on the wheel.

As he palmed your breast, his hand gripped your thigh. His mouth traced a pattern of hot breath along your neck as his tongue relished the salty sweat that had gathered at its leisure. The goosebumps that rose from your skin welcomed his breath kindly.

“I want this house to ourselves,” Felix moaned. “So we don’t have to be quiet.”

“Tell me what you’d do,” you asked him, placing your hand over his own and bringing his fingers to you. He cupped your heat as you groaned, guiding him back and forth to gather the wetness he could feel different from the water of the tub.

“Tell me what you’d do to me.” You spoke faintly. “Tell me and I’ll be quiet.”

You guided one of Felix’s fingers in you as he shushed the sounds that threatened to speak themselves into existence.

He put his lips on your ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you with a slow glide. So plush and tight, he thought to himself. It sucked him in and dared not to spit him out.

“I would fuck you on the floor,” he breathed out against your cheek. “I’d spread you wide and taste your sweet pussy as the sun bathes the floor. And when I’m done, we go to the pool-“

Felix pulled out his finger, tracking it along your folds before going in with two. You arched against his back, drawing up as he pulled you back down and rested his hand on your waist.

You curled the toes of your right foot down the edge of the tub.

“-we’d go to the pool and sit out in the sun. You’d give me head in one of the chairs and I’d paint your fucking face with my cum.”

You clenched around his fingers. His thumb pressed into your clit, another jolt aching to send you squirming but he held you down as he patterned circles on the gentle flesh.

“You like that, don’t you?” He breathed in the smell of you. “And maybe we’d go for a walk through the maze after dinner. I’d fuck you in the center and you could scream as loud as you fucking want. No one could get to us. No one would hear us.”

“F-F-“

“No, no, no, shh,” Felix shushed. “Good girls only win by being quiet, yeah?”

You nodded, clenching onto his fingers again as a strangled ‘fuck’ tumbled out of his lips. He could imagine the coil building. Felix wasn’t going to let you finish alone.

Felix pulled his fingers from you and felt the disappointment in the wither of your body.

“But I don’t want to imagine what’d I’d do if we were alone,” Felix blanked. “Turn around.”

As the water sloshed around you, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. Like you, Felix had sweat beading from his jaw that glimmered in the red light of the bathroom. He looked intoxicated, entranced but in control of what he could.

“I want to see you ride me like the fucking whore you are.”

You weren’t a whore. But for Felix, you could be anything.

At the nape of his neck, you gripped the back of his hair and drew his head back as your other hand gripped him under the water.

Hard and lengthy, his cock was a welcome intrusion every time. You pumped him in your hand slowly. The sounds of water creating currents was soothing against the sounds of your battered breaths kissing his own. You lifted yourself on your knees, leaning against Felix as he squeezed your ass tightly, watching as you lowered yourself onto him under the water. Slender and veined, your cunt molded to him like art. You both would never tire of the feeling so profound.

It would never be like this with anyone else.

Loose pants left his lips as you sat completely full of him. A fit for a King in his own home, he supposed. Once you had settled with him inside, you moved above him.

The water moved languidly too. Meeting the fiery skin of two intoxicated minds too oblivious to see the peering eyes between the crack of a door.

“Right there, baby, right there,” Felix mumbled as you rose again and again, drawing him in and out as he stretched you with every swell and spur he could muster on his own.

“You’re such a good girl, darling. So good for me.”

You could peer down at him from above. Your breath fanning his face and lips but never seeking to truly kiss him as your hand tangled in his hair.

Bits of water spilled over the tub and splashed onto the floor. It soaked the ash tray and the speckles of ash and bud that littered the floor.

“Don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop,” Felix crooned in the room’s empty sounds. Only the pleasured sighs and gasping breaths filled the air.

You bounced on his cock with a measured pace. Each stroke of his manhood against your velvet walls lured him deeper into you, entangled with the missing links of a year gone by.

“Felix,” you broke the rules to whisper in his ear. He was taken away by the insatiable need of his rapture. He listened. He beckoned to your call.

“Tell me that you love me.”

From the shadows, Oliver Quick felt his blood run as hot as the sun. He loved Felix.

“I love you.”

Whom did not love him back.

“Tell me you need me.”

He was enamored by the idea of Felix.

“I need you.”

Who was enamored with the idea of Oliver.

“And what do you want from me?”

He was taken by the sight before him.

“I need you to cum, baby. I need you to fucking cum for me.”

Oliver was taken by the gleam of your skin. The way Felix’s throat bobbed as a strangled groan escaped his lips and the way your own melted onto his forehead in a silent struggle to come down from a high.

You placed both hands on his slender chest, careening like winged victory in a heated satisfaction.

Your fingers shook.

He had never seen a woman shake so elegantly before. The tremble of your lips as you breathed in shaking respite, the jolt of your shoulder blade as Felix ran a hand up your back.

Oliver licked his lips at the sight.

Felix lifted his head from its position against the tub. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away in the slightest.

And Felix smiled.

You returned the grin with one of your own as his still sat erect inside of you. The bubbles of the tub had long ceased to exist and the water that was left was filled with the combined spent of you both.

“I don’t think I won that one,” you chuckled quietly, pushing hair out of Felix’s face before cupping his cheek in your hand.

“I’ll take pity on you, I guess.”

“The water’s gone cold.”

Felix kissed the inside of the palm of your hand. He cherished the high that lingered.

“The water’s gone cold,” he repeated. “But we could stay here forever.”

“Pruned and sweaty? Not a chance in fucking hell, Felix.” You laughed a bit too loudly. Oliver disappeared at the groan Felix let out as you pulled off of him.

You stood before him as the water dripped from every piece of you. Marbled and finite of the most precious carvings he only wished to hold forever.

As you exited the tub and the throb of him began to settle, you grabbed his linen shirt from the floor, draping it over you as it stuck to the wetness of your skin.

“The bed is just the slightest bit more comfortable.”

And you disappeared behind his doorway with call for more as the walls of Saltburn added another sordid story to add to it woven trims.

But it was never just the walls of Saltburn watching.

A/N: as always, the best gift of reading is likes AND reblogs and why not, we love comments too. Thank you for reading and feel free to check out my other works on my masterlist here. xo

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #felix catton x reader #saltburn felix #felix catton #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x female reader #saltburn spoilers #this is self indulgent

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writers-potion · 6 months ago

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Writing Weapons (4): Clubs, Maces, Axes, Slings and Arrows

Clubs & Maces

Maces are refined versions of clubs, usually made from steel and flanged or spiked.

Perfect for smashing and plate armour and for crushing skulls.

When used on horseback, the rider uses continuous swining motion and leans to the side to hit.

Type of Fight Scene: gritty, historical fiction, smashing armour

Typical user: brawny male with broad shoulders nad bulging biceps

Mostly used in: historical fiction - Stone Age to Middle Ages

Main Action: smash, crush, bludgeon, batter

Main motion: downwards

Typical injury: crushed bones, crushed skull

Strategy for lethal fight: crush skull

Disadvantages: heavy, need to get closer to the opponent

Batle Axes

Used by a peasant or lumberjack

Special battle axes are bigger and heavier, with longer handles

A weapons for attack rather than defence, good at cleaving through armour

Can break through enemy shields and kill a charging horse.

They require intense training, so users are highly skilled elite soldiers, often aristocrats.

Types of Fight Scene: gritty, brutal, battles, attack, historical fiction, fantasy fiction, cutting through armour

Typical User: tall brawny male with broad shoulders and bulging biceps, courageous, elite soldier, Viking, Saxon

Mostly Used In: European Dark Ages to Middle Ages

Main Action: cleave, hack, chop, cut, split

Main Motion: downwards

Typical Injury: severed large limbs, split skulls, cleaved torsos

Strategy for Lethal Fight: severe the arm which holds the sword or the shield, or cleave torso from top to bottom, or cut off a lef then split the skull

Disadvantages: big and heavy

Bows and Arrows

They are weapons of mass use. Hundred of arrows are shot at the enemy to inflict as mcuh damagne as possible from a distance.

In the middle of the battle and for close combat, they're useless.

Castles were designed for the use of bows and arrows, with narrow windows called 'archer slits'. The top of the outer walls were desgined so archers could shoot while remaining under cover.

Arrows are relateively cheap and quickly to produce. Tips an be metal or sharpened stone, wood, bone, glass splinters, etc.

Pieces of feather at the end help the arrows fly better, but knowing which part of the feather to attach how and where is much -treasured knowledge.

Characters can learn the basics of archery can be done quickly at an emergency. However, to be really good it takes years of practice.

Most important skill is to be able to shoot many arrows in quick succession.

Stone Slings

Stone slings are cheap to make - it only takes a piece of leather, string and ammunition are simply pebbls lying around.

This makes it good for low-tech historical periods and for characters of all ages and physical capacities.

Doesn't require great physical strength, but a lot of practice is required to achieve accuracy.

Different cultures have different techniques for holding and releasing, none of which includes the continuous frantic whirling around beloved by moview makers. Rotatin is usually done once or twice, or not at all.

(1) the slinger hooks the end of the sling over her fingers (2) holds the hand above the shoulder so the sling's bag with the stone in it hangs down behind her shoulder. (3) flings it straight forward.

Blunders to Avoid

Depicting an axeman as an unkilled brute who chops blindly.

Battles where the archers shoot when sword fighters are already engaged in close fighting

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